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Under Carmen, Seismic not only got more and better gigs, but they also landed their first major record deal. They hit gold, as well as in their choice of manager. As Ramiro was famous for his outrageous antics onstage, so was Carmen's reputation. She told the greedy record executives to fuck themselves in the ass if they thought of screwing the band from their profits. One magazine put them on the cover and titled it "The Beauty and The Beast." Ramiro was smiling, golden, handsome, and clearly captioned as the Beauty. At the same time, Carmen wore her signature scowl and was labeled the Beast. Neither had posed nor given an interview for the magazine.
Ramiro and the rest of the Seismic thought the title was insulting. However, it praised him and Carmen for "taking the music back for musicians everywhere." They issued a joint statement denouncing the magazine's choice of how they portrayed Carmen on the cover and demanded an apology. They did, but Carmen would later tell them they shouldn't have bothered. "I'm used to it," she told them in a tone that conveyed further questions would never be entertained.
When Ramiro told Temperance about this, his sister smirked. "She's right. You shouldn't have bothered."
Carmen arrived at the station two hours later. Ramiro was annoyed because he wanted to go home and rest in bed. She had never taken this long before. Don again brought him to Carmen, who had just finished filling up the paperwork. Ramiro was ready with a smile, expecting her usual silence.
With hands on her hips, Carmen growled, "Until when, Ramiro?"
She usually picked him up with messy hair and one side of her face lined with sleep. Ramiro enjoyed that, knowing he had dragged her out of bed. This time, she wore a little black dress that showed off her toned, muscular arms, gym-honed body, and unbelievably long legs. She was not curvy - the dress's neckline showed no cleavage, but his trained eye caught sight of her tight nipples - but hell, she looked magnificent.
Despite having more alcohol than blood in his system, Ramiro felt his cock twitch.
"She speaks," Ramiro announced grandly to the police officers. Smirking, he strode toward her. "I thought you'd gone mute, Schwartz. How many times has it been - "
"Ten times. Ten fucking times I've come here to get you. Every time I thought it would be the last. That you're going to pick yourself up and get fixed. Instead you just get worse and worse." In her fury, Carmen's cheeks were the color of plums. She grabbed Ramiro by the arm as soon as he was close enough and yanked him out toward the night.
"Let go of me," Ramiro demanded, quickly shaking her away. He glared up at her. He was tall, but she was taller than him barefoot. In her high heels, she loomed over him.
"Seriously, Ramiro, until when? What the fuck are you doing with your life?" Carmen continued as they stood in front of the police station.
"You know, I liked you until you started speaking."
"I've hated you since the day you quit."
Startled at the venom in her delivery, Ramiro could only watch as she turned away and stormed to her car. Any other day would have him amazed that she could walk steadily in those impossible heels and endless legs. He watched, stunned, as she got behind the wheel. Seeing that he was unmoving, she yelled, "Get your ass moving or I'm leaving you, Brandt!"
He was still drunk but made it to the passenger seat just as she floored it. Ramiro clipped on his seatbelt and glared at her.
Carmen glared at him with fiery blues, then turned her attention back to the road. "I swear to God, Ramiro, if not for recent developments, I'd drive us off a cliff because I can't stand how you keep doing this to yourself."
"Recent developments? You mean you in a dress?" Ramiro glanced appreciatively at the smooth expanse of pale, freckled thigh exposed. "You look so fucking fetching."
"God damn it," Carmen swore.
"You know, I don't know if anyone's asked you this, but who the fuck do you kiss with that mouth?" Ramiro drawled. "It'ssofucking filthy."
"Ramiro, do me a favor and just be quiet while I drive. And think."
She sounded like she was near tears, so Ramiro did as asked.
She pulled up right across his building ten minutes later. Ramiro would generally get out and never look back. This time, he remained in his seat and stared at Carmen. She was slumped in her seat and looking straight ahead.
"What happened?" He asked her gently.
"Do I . . . I mean, by not saying anything, by just picking you up after another arrest, am I encouraging you somehow?" Carmen looked at him, her expression helpless and frustrated. "What happens when you're prosecuted, when you actually have to spend time behind bars? You might not care, Ramiro. I shouldn't anymore." She shook her head and collapsed back in the seat. "That day you told me you were quitting meant you don't care about anyone. Yet here I am. Another thankless night with you."
She sounded both angry and sad but still blunt. Damn, but she knew just how to cut him even when that wasn't what she meant to do. Carmen Schwartz was a hardass, but she wasn't cruel or unkind.
"For the record," Ramiro began, "I am grateful for what you do for me."
"What exactly do I do? Because if this keeps up I'm an accomplice, Ramiro. And I refuse to be part of whatever you're doing to hurt yourself even more."
"I'm not hurting myself," he snapped.
"No? What you're doing certainly breaks the heart." She retorted.
"What brought this on?" Ramiro asked. "You've never spoken before. Tell me."
