Page 63 of Marks of Rebellion
"Maybe if you were nice to her."
I grunt. "I am nice to her, except for a few occasions we've disagreed."
Ryker crosses his arms and scowls. "You think telling her to get out of the car, or you'll remove her is nice?"
I groan. "Drop it."
"Why wasn't Julieta's husband listed on her paperwork?" Vanessa asks.
"She goes by her maiden name; Interpol must have missed it."
"Has he been looking for her?" I ask.
Ryker picks up a goblet and the bottle of rum. He pours three fingers. "You'll have to talk to her." He downs a mouthful and grimaces.
"There's juice for that."
"Think I'll pass on the Kool-Aid."
"Suit yourself."
We're almost through cooking dinner when Julieta and Miguel come back into the kitchen, having a heated conversation.
Miguel pulls the drawer open and yanks out a folder of papers then slams down a pen. At the same time, a little girl in a nightgown comes running into the room, crying and yelling, "Tata." She looks like she might be five.
Miguel crouches, and she leaps into his arms. Another woman who looks like a carbon copy of Julieta busts through the doorway and freezes.
The woman gapes and finally says, "Julieta."
"Josie." Julieta's voice cracks and her face pales.
Josie puts her hand to her mouth, and tears fall down her cheeks. She speaks, and I don't know what she says, but she gets choked up and can't finish.
Julieta responds, and they go back and forth.
After a few minutes, Julieta wipes her eyes. She turns to us and says, "This is my twin sister, Josie, and their daughter, Liliana."
Julieta picks up the pen then signs her name on several forms in the folder. She motions between Miguel and Josie while talking fast, and the only word that sounds familiar to me isdivorcio.
Did she just sign divorce papers?
She grabs her glass of rum and the bottle before leaving the room.
"What did she say?" I mumble to Vanessa.
"She said she hopes they are happy together, and since she moved into her bed years ago behind her back, she can keep it."
11
Vanessa
"Julieta."I follow her outside.
"I'm fine. You can go back inside and eat." She sniffles, sits on the step, then takes a long drink before pouring more rum in it.
I take the rum bottle out of her hand and take a swig. The alcohol burns my throat as it slides toward my stomach.
I'm already a little light-headed from the half glass I had in the kitchen, but I take another sip.
