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The Embittered Ruby (Diamond Estates)

By Nicole O'Dell

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If only heaven and hell shared the same zip code,” Carmen Castillo sputtered into her cell phone as she huddled on the rusty fire escape. Anything for privacy. Even if it did put her at risk of a drive-by.

“You having a tough day, C?”

“To say the least. I mean, I’m stuck here, in Hackensack, New Jersey—some weird version of hades on earth. You’re still in Briarcliff Manor, New York, otherwise known as heaven.” She glared down the street. “Your view is of mansions and rolling lawns; mine is of bars and nail salons.” Could it get any worse?

“Let’s pretend. Close those gorgeous brown eyes, and lay your pretty face on my chest. Now I’m squeezing. And even tighter. Do you feel it?”

Ah. Nate McConnell’s deep, velvety voice massaged the tension from her body. Her fingers tingled as she imagined stroking the stubble on his face and then running them across his prickly blond buzz cut. Next she tried to envision her dark waves lying across his thick biceps. She couldn’t quite grasp the complete visual with the horns blaring and the shop lights blinking. “It’s surreal. It’s like I’m watching someone else’s life fall apart on a TV special. Except it’s mine. All mine.”

Silence.

After all, what could he say to her? Carmen knew he loved her—she’d never had a moment’s doubt. They’d been together since Nate’s junior year and her freshman year. Carmen had never dated anyone else, and though Nate had had a few minor rela- tionships, he said he’d never loved anyone else. She believed him.

The big Castillo move must have hurt him, too—but obviously not like it had destroyed her. Nate still lived in luxury and kept the same address in the elite town they’d both enjoyed all their lives. At most, the distance inconvenienced him— whereas the change, and the divorce leading up to it, affected every fiber of her life. And he clearly didn’t hurt enough to fight for her.

But really, what did she expect him to do? Marry her? Yeah right. Like his parents would ever allow him. Judge McConnell and Hillary barely tolerated Nate dating Carmen because of her Mexican heritage—though Carmen doubted they had any idea their disdain was so obvious.

Wonder if his mom lay in bed at night and whispered, “Well, at least she’s half white,” as she tucked silk sheets around her feet. Then Nate’s dad would turn out the light and mumble, “Yes, thank the Lord for small favors.”

Little did she realize that even though Dad looked white, Grandpa Castillo had migrated right from Mexico. Where did Hillary think the Castillo name came from? And Mom. . .

she was straight blue-collar Mexican. Born and raised in Hackensack. Rescued from her fate by a rich, good-looking business man and moved to upstate New York. Funny how fate has a way of rearing it’s ugly head and sucking a person back into its clutches.

Nate cleared his throat. “So where’s everyone else?”

“You mean you can’t hear the construction racket? I can barely think over the hammering and drilling. Mom and Kimberley are in my—er, our—room setting up. . .get this...bunk beds. Bunk beds? You’ve got to be kidding. I get to play Rock, Paper, Scissors with my little sister over who gets the top bunk. After never having shared a room for a day in my life.” Laugh or cry? Punching something sounded more satisfying.

“Yeah. I bet it’s a pain. I wouldn’t like sharing with Charlie.”

“At least your little brother is cute, and you can kind of overlook his immaturity because he’s only three. He’s still a baby. Kimberley, well, she’s a spoiled brat. I’d almost rather share with Harper. At only eight, she falls asleep early and is still kind of cute in certain ways—though annoying in all kinds of others.” Carmen peered around the cracks to peek in the window.

“Speaking of the diva, there goes Kim now. Towel across her shoulder, off to take a bath in the claw-foot tub. Would you believe she sees an antique tub as an adventure? She imagines she’s an art student living in Paris.” Wonder if she’s looked out the window yet.

“She’s only thirteen. Give her a break maybe?” Nate’s words sounded clipped. “Sounds like she’s trying to make the best of it all.”

Carmen gritted her teeth against her turbulent emotions. Bet he’s glad he called. “I’m sorry. I’m being horrible company. I can let you go and talk to you later.”

“Okay. You know I love ya. But if you want to go for now, I’ll be fine.” The lilt in his voice gave away his relief. “Give me a call when you feel like it.”

Ending the call wasn’t at all what she wanted. Carmen really wanted to discover a genie in a bottle to grant her three wishes. She’d even take just one wish. Or some ruby slippers. There’s no place like home. But if she couldn’t have her ultimate dream of putting things back the way they were, she’d at least take time with her boyfriend. Was even that small a favor too much to ask the universe? Carmen stared at the lifeless phone in her hand. Apparently.

How would she see Nate anymore? Maybe she could talk her parents into letting her live with Dad. A shudder rippled from head to toe. No matter how bad things got in Hackensack, it couldn’t be as bad as being around Cheerleader Barbie and her pom-poms. Tiffany, who turned simple, everyday tasks
into a cheer. “The coffee’s. . .ready? Okay!” Rah, rah. Gag. But Tiffany wouldn’t be around forever. No way. At least not if Carmen could help it. And Carmen intended to help it.

Not ready to go back inside, Carmen closed her eyes. Maybe if she could imagine hard enough, she’d be able to teleport herself back home, taking a dip in the pool or soaking in the hot tub. She breathed air deep into her lungs, somehow expecting the familiar smell of the cedar planks in the sauna. Instead exhaust fumes from the buses and grease from the diner across the street attacked her senses.
No use.

Carmen slipped her phone into the pocket of her jeans and pried herself from the stucco wall she’d been leaning against. Crumbling plaster pelted the metal grid of the fire escape and rained onto the street below.

A whistle pierced the din of traffic.

Shielding her eyes against the sun, Carmen squinted up the neighborhood. Nothing there but two old men on a bus-stop bench outside the drugstore. Down the road, little kids played on the uneven sidewalk. Where had the whistle come from? Finally her gaze settled on four menacing teens leaning on the lamppost across the street. One dark pair of eyes drew hers like magnets. He cocked his head and stared holes into Carmen’s flaming cheeks.

Shirtless, he touched the black-and-gold bandana tied around his bulging bicep. Then he shifted position, and Carmen saw the largest tattoo she’d ever seen in person. A huge lion with a five-pointed crown on its head was inked on his right side, starting at his ribs and winding around to the middle of his back.

Carmen’s eyes roved to take in the garb of the others. All black and gold. The tattoos among them too numerous to count. Latin Kings.

Did they carry. . . ? Oh, yep. Right in plain view. A polished handle stuck out of the waistband of the tallest of the group. How many of the others had guns?

Great. Now she crouched alone on a narrow fire escape, in a place God had forgotten about, being leered at by a gang. Carmen wanted to be safe inside, cocooned on her bunk bed or better yet on the queen four-poster she’d left behind in New York, but she had frozen under their sneers. Too scared to move—too afraid to appear nervous or show any sign of weakness. What were they doing there outside her apartment? More importantly, why were they staring at her?

The leader snapped his fingers, and a cigarette appeared at his lips. Another pair of hands flicked a lighter, and it sparked to life. He took a long drag and blew out the smoke in slow motion. Then he winked one dark eye at her and ran his tongue along his lips.

Carmen shivered as goose bumps speckled her body from head to toe. She flung the sliding door to the side and scurried back through the opening. She slid it shut, latched the lock, and lowered the bar until it clicked into place.

Don’t look. Don’t even turn around. Keep moving, and don’t look back.

She could feel their laser-sharp gaze burning holes between her shoulder blades as she moved though the family room. A quick right and she stood in the hallway. Three more steps to her room. Was she safe there? Were any of them?

Those jerks were going to be trouble. Just what she’d ex- pected when she moved to New Jersey.

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