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Mom bumped her to the side. “Carmen was taught to shoot when she eight years old, and I’m not such a bad shot myself.” She waved to Lamar, a teenager who lived three doors down and who was currently parked at the end of their driveway on his bike, watching avidly. “Hey, Lamar!”
“They straight?” he called.
“Yes, they work for Gavin.”
Lamar threw the peace sign and pedaled down the road. Mom turned back to the guards and waved them inside. “Carmen needs help with her things.”
It finally penetrated that she would be moving again, and this time to her future stepfather’s house, a man she’d met twice in her life. “Maybe I should get a hotel.”
“No.” Mom pushed her toward the stairs. “You have ten minutes. Don’t dawdle. Just take what you need. I’m sure you can always send someone to get more if you need it.”
“Marv doesn’t want—”
“You don’t know what he wants, Carmen Marie. Now, hush and hurry.”
It wasn’t until she felt an uncomfortable breeze that she realized her robe had loosened, giving a glimpse of her modest cleavage and stomach.
“You’re hurt?” the smaller guard asked as he stared at the angry scratches on her chest.
“No,” she said shortly as she cinched the robe and headed upstairs with the shotgun under her arm. She surveyed her room and heard the two guards stop behind her.
“I want those four piles,” she said, pointing at four mounds of shoes, clothes, and shopping bags.
“All of those?” Wannabe Blade grunted.
“Yes.”
She could feel his irritation, but he didn’t argue. He opened her closet, found a duffel she used in high school for cheerleading and got to work. She kicked through a pile of clothes and found a purple velvet tracksuit. She went into the bathroom to change as the guys got to work. She looked in the mirror at her bloodshot, puffy eyes and took a deep breath. There was no time to think. No, once again life was propelling her forward. She found a bedazzled Ed Hardy hat, which she pulled low over her face, oversized sunglasses, and slipped into a pair of black platform sandals decorated with studs.
She packed up her makeup and jewelry and handed it off to the younger guard before she hefted Vinny. She waved them off as she carried the urn to the Aston Martin. Her things had been loaded into an SUV.
“Will one of you drive her?” Mom called from the beat-up Toyota. “She’s under the weather.”
“Mom!”
“Don’t argue, Carmen. I gave them the address. They know where we’re going. I’ll see you there!”
Mom waved as she backed out of the drive. She probably needed a head start to explain to Marv why she was showing up with her twenty-nine-year-old daughter in tow.
“Ma’am?” the young guard asked tentatively.
She tossed him the keys and settled Vinny on the floorboard between her feet. She sat back and closed her eyes as the car began to move.
“I’m Mickey.”
“Carmen,” she said with her eyes closed.
“Of course, we know all about you, Mrs. Pyre.”
She ground her teeth. “Just call me Carmen.”
“Okay.”
She felt congested and lightheaded from her crying fit. All she wanted to do was lay in a dark room and sleep, preferably for a week or two. Her phone rang. She hesitated before she fished it out of her purse.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hey. I just wanted to remind you about Saturday,” Alice said.
