He thought of Charles and the woman he saw him with at the restaurant. Was he really that stupid? His wife had been right upstairs. If Romero didn’t do this kind of shit for a living he might question that what he’d seen, maybe it wasn’t what it looked like. He’d forgotten all about it since then.
It had been a hell of a week so far. Getting little to no sleep at all, mindlessly going about his days. Nothing mattered anymore. Not even when he got the call that morning from Nick to tell him the charges against him had been dropped. It should’ve been uplifting news—his uncles were happy enough. Yet, it didn’t even feel like it mattered. His life was still wretched.
The only thing constantly on his mind was how the hell he was he going to survive without Isabel. It was just a matter of time before her f**king sister finally set her up with someone who interested her. Maybe she’d even give Jacob another shot—or worse—he squeezed the camera he held—she’d go out with Michael again.
Sitting up straight, he felt that familiar heat inundate him. That same heat he had so little control over, especially when it involved Isabel. He took deep breaths and closed his eyes, counting down from ten. Just one of the stupid tips he’d read on the internet the other night on calming techniques. He’d learned from trying it earlier that he had to count super slow or he’d get down to one way before he was even remotely calm. He did what the article said. Identified what was causing the tension and removed it from his thoughts so that he could diffuse the issue.
He smirked when he realized it was actually working. Finally, after several minutes of this, he felt calm enough to open his eyes. He opened them slowly, smiling triumphantly, then glanced over to the driveway only to see the car he’d been watching was gone. “Aww f**k!”
Well, hell. He’d wasted all that time sitting there for nothing. He turned the car on and decided he had no choice but to call it a night.
On the drive back to his uncles’ house, he got to thinking about Charles again. Maybe he could do a little digging and find out what he was up to. If anything, it would give him the satisfaction to know Pat’s husband was cheating on her. Who could blame the sap? He was stuck with her. Pat wasn’t ugly. In fact, irritatingly enough, she looked a lot like Isabel only she had shorter hair. But it was like in that movie Shallow Hal. Her personality was so nasty it made her ugly.
His uncles were both still at the bar when he got home. Aida was in the kitchen cleaning up and closing it down, as she put it. Anyone who ate after she closed it down had better put their shit away or there would be hell to pay.
He said hello to her as he walked through the kitchen into the hallway. He grabbed the laptop from his room and brought it out into the dining room. Some of the software he had should be illegal. It dug so deep into peoples’ private lives it was scary. He didn’t even need to know Charles’ last name. He typed in Isabel’s name taking a deep calming breath from just seeing her name. It immediately brought up all her next of kin, her extended family, even employers. He clicked on Pat’s name bringing up all her info and there it was.
Romero laughed when he saw Charles’ given name was actually Carlos Castro. He’d changed it to Charles years ago, no doubt because he thought it sounded more sophisticated. “Alright Carlos Castro, lets see what you’re up to.”
He sat back to wait the few minutes to bring up Charles’ latest credit card activity. He had several but there was one in his name only from the same bank where he had an account in his name only as well. Always a revealing sign.
Aida answered her phone in the kitchen and it immediately caught Romero’s attention. “What? Slow down, Manny. I can barely understand you.”
Romero turned away from the laptop to listen.
“Oh my God!” She shrieked. “Who shot him?”
Romero jumped from his chair and rushed into the kitchen. Aida was already crying. She shoved the phone at Romero. “Max was shot!”
“What?” Romero took the phone feeling his heart drop. “What happened?”
“The bastards shot my little brother, Moe!” Manny sobbed.
Hearing his uncle sob had Romero choking up. “Who did? Where? Is he still alive?”
“I don’t know! I don’t know! The ambulance took him. I’m on my way to the hospital now.”
Romero managed to get the hospital information from his hysterical uncle. He and Aida ran out the door and into his car. Aida tried to make some sense out of what Manny was still trying to tell her on the phone. “Tell him to just wait ‘til we get there. He’s hysterical enough, he shouldn’t be on the phone while he drives, too.”
“Honey, we’re almost there. You can tell us when we get there. Okay? Just try to calm down.”
Romero was nearly hit by a car in the hospital parking lot as he ran through it to get to the emergency room. Manny was already there sitting in the waiting room bent over, his face buried in his hands. Romero and Aida rushed over to him. Aida sat next to him. Without getting up, Manny wrapped his arms around Romero’s waist and sobbed against his shirt. “What if we lose him, Moe? What are we gonna do?”
Suddenly Romero felt the tears in his own eyes drip down his face. He didn’t even remember the last time he cried. His voice cracked. “What happened? Who shot him?”
Manny moaned, unable to compose himself. “Some stupid bastards got in a fight at the bar. Shots were fired and Manny caught one in the chest.” Manny moaned again, his body shaking as he continued to sob against Romero.