Sometimes life is like a kaleidoscope. With every twist, the image changes into another obscure scene of shapes and colors. It’s beautiful, but it’s not reality, and after a while, it stings to keep looking. 

 That’s how I feel. 

Stumbling into Angie’s world was a misstep. I let my dick guide me instead of my actual head. Yet, not all of it can be blamed on her. The situation with Richie Reddy fell into my lap thanks to my attraction to Mindy. It doesn’t matter that I’ve been sleeping with Angie because the moment I lay eyes on that Bollywood goddess, I fall right back into her orbit. 

And she needs protection from the cruelty—protection from assholes like Richie fucking Reddy.

This is why I’m entertaining Angie by sitting here in this diner with Alma and Jackson. The air conditioning is blowing, but sweat rolls down my back, and Angie places her hand on my thigh, forcing it to stop jiggling. I can’t help it. This meeting is too much. It’s one thing tossing around deadly ideas with Psycho Killer, but bringing on two more people is asking for trouble. So, I might bite the table to break my jaw and go to the hospital as an excuse to get out of this warped shit-hole I dragged my dick into. 

“I mean, ever since that night at Baretta where we joked about offing our exes...” Jackson glances around the diner and whispers. “Alma and I have been discussing how it would change everything for her.”

Yeah, like spending life in the slammer, I think to myself.

“Now, I’m not saying I would do it, but her nasty custody battle would stop, and her ex wouldn’t be able to step foot near her again. She’d finally get to see her kids.”

“Through a plated glass,” I snort, and the three of them dart their eyes to me. Jackson’s nostrils flare, and Angie kicks me under the table. 

Tough crowd. Yet I can’t help but notice how quiet Alma is. 

“That’s not going to happen because we’re going to be super careful about this,” Angie replies.

“Look, I’m not trying to burst anyone’s bubble, but we need to be real about this. Having multiple exes turn up dead—whose spouses attend the same support group is fishy as hell. We would automatically become suspects, and the fact some of us have nasty divorce cases going on would paint a giant target on our backs. Not to mention... Jackson, you’re Black, so you’ll for sure sit on Death Row.”

“Miguel!” Angie elbows me.

“Oh, don’t give me that. If we’re going to discuss this, then let’s be fucking realistic! We all know Jackson would get the worst of it because of his skin color.”

“No, you’re right about that,” Jackson sighs. “Cops pull me over just for jogging in my neighborhood.”

“Yeah, now imagine what would happen if you become a suspect in multiple murder cases?”

“Look, I’m not saying I want Alma’s husband dead, but maybe just rough him up?” Jackson says.

“Listen, I get it. My ex is sending me to the cleaners with this divorce, too,” I reply and do a quick survey of the diner before continuing, and Alma is still quiet as a mouse while sipping a milkshake. “Some days, I would love to slap the shit out of Celia, but I’m pretty sure roughing up our exes would land us in jail too. Even just talking about this makes me nervous.”

“So, if you’re so worried, why are you helping Angie?” Alma cocks a dark brow. The zombie has awakened.

“Yeah, why are you doing it?” Jackson asks, and Angie shifts in the squeaky booth to stare at me, a red-painted smirk on her lips.

“Because of Richie Reddy.”

“Who?” Jackson’s brows lift.

“He’s Mindy’s ex but also the third-largest heroin trader in the Bay Area—”

“I’m sorry, he’s what now?” Alma almost chokes on her milkshake.

“Apparently, he’s a big deal, and after kicking him out of Penthouse on Thursday, I’m on his radar,” I say.

“Basically, Richie wants to kill Miguel,” Angie adds.

“And you want to kill him first? Jesus. So you are serious.” Jackson sits back. 

“I just know I need to get ahead of this if he’s coming after me, but I'm not sure what that entails yet.”

And I'm lying through my teeth because they don't know I've got Richie strapped to a chair in a hidden dungeon underneath my mom's basement. Not even Angie knows the details of what I've done.

“Oh, and not only is he a huge drug dealer,” Angie says, “He’s a wife-beater too. We saw photos and a police report from the last time he attacked Mindy.”

“That wasn’t the last time,” I say.

“What do you mean?” Jackson leans forward.

“After the Penthouse incident, I met up with Mindy for lunch, and she had a black eye. She swore it was an accident, but we know abused women sing that song too often.”

“Then he needs to die.” Alma shrugs her dark, tan shoulders. “Simple.”

“You know,” Jackson says, his eyes searching the untouched Turkey Club sitting in front of him, his fingers fidgeting with the fries. “We could always figure out how to pin everything on him.”

This causes Angie’s eyes to light up, and she leans forward. “Jackson, you are a damn genius!”

However, it's a terrible idea because I've been torturing Richie for the last few days, and by the time I'm done, he'll be fish food. But they don't know that.

“And how the hell do we pull off something like that?” Alma snorts, and my heart is thumping faster as I clutch the burger in my hand. I need to shift this conversation.

“I’m sure we can figure it out.” Angie snags a fry from Jackson’s plate and pops it into her mouth. “We have important people on our side.”

“Angie, we don’t know that.” I shake my head.

“Such little faith. But don’t worry, handsome. I’ll hold your hand until you come to your senses and realize this is the way to go. This will make all of our lives better.”

“I dunno.” I shake my head again. “It’s one thing to joke about killing our exes and quite another to go through with it. But also, my thing with Richie is completely separate and has nothing to do with my ex or either of you. This path you all want to walk down is sketchy as fuck, and I’m not too chicken-shit to admit all of it has me on edge.”

“I thought you said he was on board?” Alma directs to Angie.

“Handsome is just scared.” She glances at me.

“Scared people sing like a canary when questioned by the police.” Alma’s expression hardens as she looks my way with a fork gripped in her hand. “Men, like my ex-husband, don’t deserve to breathe.”

“It’s ok.” Jackson covers her hand with his, and it dawns on me that he’s become more affectionate with her over the last few weeks. Is something going on between them?

“No, it’s not ok,” Alma says. “My ex-husband shoved me into the damn trunk of his car and kidnapped me — he was probably going to kill me, all because I filed divorce papers. I am NOT going to prison because pretty boy over here is scared. Not when men like my husband and this Richie Reddy asshole get to walk around freely!”

“Relax. Miguel is on board with the plan,” Angie replies.

“I don’t think he is.” Alma glares her deep brown eyes at me. “All that muscle, and it turns out you’re just a little pussy.”

The fork in her grasp clatters on the plate as she releases it and stands from the table to storm off. A cloud of silence hovers over the table, leaving us with the whir of the milkshake machine behind the counter as an Elvis song plays through the crackling speakers.

“Alma has been through a lot,” Jackson says. “And her ex is getting released from prison soon, so she’s scared of him coming after her again. Plus, she has PTSD because of what happened to her. And she’s right. Men like her husband and this Richie guy rarely face the consequences. They need to pay, and I’m not opposed to taking matters into our own hands.” 

“Ok. So the plan is we kill my ex,” Angie says. “Then Richie and Gino.” 

“Maybe.” Jackson straightens. “You still haven’t said why you want your ex gone.”

“I have my reasons.”

“Yeah, but if we’re going to do this, then we should know everyone’s reason why,” Jackson says.

Breath hitches in my chest because Angie doesn't know I have Franky digging up dirt on her ex-husband, and for now, I need it to stay that way. So, I'm hoping that one of these days, Angie will trust me enough to tell me about him. She mentioned in our group session that her ex wants kids, but she can't have them, so he cheated on her with his young secretary. However, just because someone is an asshole doesn’t mean they deserve to die. Plus, there's still the mystery about why he's paying top dollar for her sister to live in a care home. So, he can't be that bad.

“Listen, I’m the one moving the chess pieces!" Angie’s gaze flashes between Jackson and me. "And I have all the connections to the people we need, so if I say I have my reasons, that should be good enough. Got it?”

Jackson sighs. “Maybe.”

“Oh, great, so now you have doubts.” Angie swivels her head towards me. “Thanks a lot, Miguel.”

“Knowing why we’re doing this and having a solid plan is smart.” I shrug. “You’re the one who wants a team, but if you can’t answer his question, then how do you plan to get others on board?”

“I tell you what...” Jackson taps the table with his knuckles. “I’m going to go look for Alma and calm her down. In the meantime, you guys figure shit out. Remember, secrets aren’t going to attract anyone to have your back, but transparency will because Miguel is right. This is risky, and we could all lose. So we need to go into this as one unit. We need to know why and how.”

The two of us are left at the table, and I’m about to say something when Angie grips my arm, her nails digging in.

“Shut your face.”

“Angie...”

“Shut. Your. Face. I have my reasons, ok, and I shouldn’t have to explain them to you or anyone! Especially when you've gone rogue with Richie. You're lucky I didn't tell them about that.” 

"And you're lucky I didn't tell them about your secret sister," I snap back.

"She's not a secret!"

"Right. That's why you take a subway, a train, and a bus to visit Ana in an expensive care home that your ex-husband pays for."

"You don't know shit about my life!" Angie jabs her finger in my face.

“Angie, listen," I take a deep breath. "I know you don’t want to, but at some point, you'll have to say your reason because Jackson is right about people needing transparency.” 

"Oh, yeah? Are you going to tell them about Richie, you damn hypocrite?"

"In time."

“In time, my asshole!" Angie rolls her eyes. "I’m ready to leave. Pay the tab.” She stands and adjusts her jacket. “I’m catching an Uber. I’ll be in contact.”

“Angie.” I grab her arm, halting her, and she sears my flesh with a glare. “It’s not just about us anymore. We now have the Sisters involved, too, and I don’t think they’d be ok with things getting messy. Involving others feels messy.”

“Let’s not forget you’re the one who came to me asking for help with Richie. You chose messy by acting like a knight in shining armor who needs to save Mindy and going rogue. These are the consequences. Now, either you strap in for the ride or get the fuck out of my way!”

She yanks her arm out of my grip and spins with her curls whipping behind her. As she stomps off, exiting the diner, it’s hard to believe I allowed my dick to go anywhere near her. 

However, Angie is right. I did ask for her help, and I did take matters into my own hands. But I’m not going to strap in and go along for the ride.

I need to take control of this vehicle before it drives off a cliff. So that’s precisely what I plan to do.