The Divorcee Murder Club

Treinta Y Dos ~ 32

                 It’s amazing how you can spend days, even weeks hating someone’s existence, but then a monumental discovery is made, and you’re reminded they’re just as broken as you. 

I keep stealing glances at Angie, then looking away before she notices.

A soccer game plays on the TV while Jackson and I sit in the living room, and the ladies fry up breakfast. If a neighbor were to spy on us through the windows, we’d look like an average foursome having a get-together midweek. Instead, we’re talking murder while sipping mimosas.

“When Gino gets out of prison, he’ll be staying with his brother, who is a piece of shit like him,” Jackson says and marks an X on the map he just drew. “This is where we sneak into the house and take him.”

“You’ve been scoping the place out?” I snort, but frankly, I’m impressed.

“Yeah. On my nights off, I do a little recon, and his brother always leaves the house around eleven PM for work. So that's when we should grab Gino."

"We're going to need a van," I say.

"Already have it covered. Alma's cousin works at a car repo, so I was thinking we steal a van from there and then scrap it afterward. No one will notice.”

"That could work." I scratch my stubbly chin. "When Kay took me to that warehouse by the water, I spotted a building we can take Gino and Richie to. We should drive over there this weekend and scope the place out."

"Not a bad idea, but I'm on call at the fire station, so I'll keep you posted." Jackson’s gaze drifts over to the kitchen where Alma and Angie are cooking. “I swear, I shit myself every time Angie opens a drawer. If she finds those documents…”

“Let’s do a sting operation. We go in there, pretend we’re stealing bites of the food, and while you distract them, I swipe the contraband.” 

“Deal.”

Rising from the couch, Jackson stretches and heads for the kitchen. I wait for a few beats so it looks less planned, then stroll behind him. Bacon sizzles in a pan while Alma poaches eggs over the stove, and Angie slices fruit. 

“How are you beautiful little chefs doing?” Jackson tosses his arms around them and glances at me, his eyes pointing to the drawer. 

“Fantastic!” Alma kisses the tips of her fingers. “Look at how perfect these eggs are turning out and the hollandaise sauce.”

“You know I love a yummy Eggs Benedict. Smells delicious,” Jackson inhales deeply. “And are you cutting the fruit into little star-shapes!”

Angie shrugs as she arranges the kiwi on a platter. “I thought it would be a nice touch.”

“Look at the two of you being brilliant." Jackson squeezes their shoulders and kisses each of their heads. "How did we get so lucky, Miguel?”

My back stiffens in the middle of sliding the documents out of the drawer. The last thing we need is for him to put attention on me. So I shove the folder inside the front of my pants, and when I spin, Angie collides into my chest.

“Watch it!” she growls, her hands full of fruit scraps as she walks them over to the sink.

“My bad.”

“I’m surprised you’re here,” she says, turning on the garbage disposal. The kitchen fills with its grinding as she washes the scraps down the drain. Then she flicks the switch and turns to me, her expression full of sass. “Where’s your precious Mindy?” 

“Working… for the Abramovitz sisters.”

I don’t know why I share that information, but now that it’s out there, I can’t take it back, and Angie’s jaw drops.