Jamaica

Gabby laughs, bringing my attention up from the envelope I have clutched in my lap and I smile when I see Santiago frown down at the game board, his sensual mouth pursing as he studies her next move.

I have Bill’s package in my hands right now and I am both dying to rip it open and read everything in it and also throw it into a fire and pretend it never existed.

I don’t know what to do here. If I open this envelope right now and read the things he’s promised to tell me then it’s like a breach of trust that I have fought hard to earn.

Santiago is starting to trust me, slowly but steadily, and with every ounce of trust, I feel the boundaries he’s had up for years creep back just a little more.

I want to nurture that emotion in him and let him find it all on his own because if he trusts me fully and completely, I am convinced love will grow from there.

Oh God, I think, biting into my lip as I clutch at the thick envelope. I need to get rid of this right now and never think of it again. Fran was right!

Okay, well, not completely! She did tell me this isn’t a good idea but then completely blew that out of the water by saying that she’d do it in a heartbeat.

I’m confused, so freaking confused here that I can’t do anything but sit and watch distractedly as Gabby kicks Santiago’s ass in a simple game of Snakes and Ladders, her laughter filling the room while Nona cackles and throws her a wink.

“Your papa is going to sulk if you win every game, Gabby.” She chortles, her eyes twinkling when Santiago frowns and shakes his head.

“I am convinced she must be cheating, Nona. She has trounced me twice already.” He complains good naturedly, looking back at me with a smile.

I manage to give one back but only because if I don’t do something, I’ll give away my angst by crying. Or something just as pathetically weak and girly.

“I do not cheat, Santi! I won because you throw the dice funny and the snakes ate you twice.” She giggles, squealing when he grabs her to tickle her sides. “No! Okay, okay you did not lose twice!”

I laugh at her attempt to concede and laugh harder when he kisses her, steps away from the board and refuses to ever play again.

That’s him, though. The man despises losing so I can just imagine he’ll be teaching her chess soon just to avoid getting himself trounced in the near future.

Gabby giggles and flits over to Nona where the old bat is knitting something in an orange wool that makes my eyes hurt. I hope to hell that isn’t anything she expects anyone in this house to wear or we’ll all be blind in a few months.

“You okay?” Santiago asks, falling down beside me where I’m sitting on the long couch.

I shrug, taking his hand and watch as Nona shows Gabby how to knit with two smaller needles she bought especially for her. I don’t have the heart to tell her that Gabby does it only because she wants to make her happy and not because of any special love she has for the activity.

“I’m good, just busy.” I lie, hating the way I feel when he tilts his head to consider me.

“Perhaps you should slow down, Bella. The investigations will be there for a long time. No one expects you to get through thousands of cases in a matter of months.”

No, but I can’t handle the thought of those children living in shitty circumstances for any longer than they need to just because I need a break.

It’s been a month since the island and the strange confidence we built together and things have been good. I waited a long time, worked harder than I ever had to distract myself but finally Bill sent me what I asked for, warning me sternly to do the right thing and never open the envelope.

Yeah! Like that made it easier, I think, snorting at the thought of being like a child and not being able to push that ever tempting red button.

“I know. I just like the way it feels when we get to see one of those kids in good families.”

He nods, as if he understands and looks over at Gabby.

“I know. But there are four other retired police officers at your disposal my sweet. Let them actually do their jobs and rest a bit. I know you like working but you don’t have to kill yourself for results, querida.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Sorry, I’ve just been tired lately and dammit, I’m a klutz as well. I thought that string of bad luck accidents was just a momentary thing but this afternoon I fell over my own feet.” I gripe, rubbing at the bruise on my elbow with remember humiliation.

I just thank God I was alone because it would have killed me if anyone had seen me bang my elbow on the floor and then piss myself. No honestly, it hurt so much everything in me went completely lax. Like good.

And the floodgates opened, up top and down low.

Damn my klutz ass, I think, clutching the injured joint with a pout.

Santiago doesn’t smile as I expected him to and frowns instead, his handsome face pulling tight.

“You need to go to the doctor, Bella. This clumsiness is not you my sweet. Your balance is perhaps off? Maybe it’s a warning sign or you are getting ill.”

Okay, before I answer him let me make one thing clear; I hate doctors. It started from my seventh year on this God forsaken ball of mulch called earth. When I was seven, these were the days of the Marley hair and reggae shirts of course, I had a particular love for skate boarding that I will never understand because I sucked at it no matter how much I practiced.

Ironically enough, you’re assuming I bailed and got hurt and then had to go to the doctor. You’d be wrong. What really happened was that I had the runs for two days, assumed it was a bug that was going around and went on with my life that way kids do.

I boarded on Mrs. Gallow’s front facing driveway for a good hour because she was nice and she’d give me cookies if I hung around long enough. Anyway, it wasn’t like I was a pro but I liked it and then…I fell.

That’s true and as expected it wasn’t great, I grazed half my face hitting that concrete. Still not why I hate doctors though. See, the pain, as with the incident that occurred earlier - peeing myself and all, something no one will ever know unless they want to die - it was not minimal, but I could roll with it.

Until my stomach decided to give a gurgle and then…yeah, it was not good. Mrs. Gallow was on the front porch at the time, I was crying fit to wake the dead and there was shit everywhere. Literally everywhere because it was the consistency of liquid.

After that, I was, of course, taken to the doctor by the neighbors, not Mrs. Gallow, who had a weak stomach and ended up puking everywhere. Old Faith, my faithful champion, cleaned me up as best she could and put me in her old station wagon.

Even paid for me to go to the doctor who decided that I had to be hospitalized because I had food poisoning from chicken my mother bought on sale at the two dollar or less store.

Still not the whole story, though, bear with me.

So I went to the hospital and that, in and of itself, would have been fine except I’d watched a movie where this girl got attacked by a demon in a hospital and, well…

It was awful. I told the doctor that and he told a nurse who scared the bejesus out of me one night coming in to do her rounds. I almost had a heart attack and ended up losing my bowels again, which, by the way, is how I ended up being called Bowel Marley for two months before I decked Lucy Filo and skewed her pretty nose.

Then it was kids giving me a wide berth, and so on and so on.

Point is I still can’t sleep in a hospital without expecting something to pop out at me, something as evil as that fucking nurse and that all started with one man.

The doctor.

“I’ll go if it persists. Good job with the game by the way. I saw you miscount those snakes and land on them.”

He shrugs and I see him smile shyly.

“She is a delight when she wins. She brags incessantly. It’s…it reminds me of myself when I was young,” he admits.

I grin, liking that he’s opening up more, if slowly, and that he sees Gabby as a person these days and not an awkward responsibility.

Our stay on the island wasn’t long and no, I didn’t get all the answers, but I did get something out of it. Santiago, instead of walking out whenever he sees me and Gabby together, joins in now. Sometimes it’s awkward for him and I see how much of a struggle it is for him to fully let himself be a part of us, but he’s improving day by day.

“She’s trying to fit in with everyone. With Nona she gardens and knits, although Lord knows, she’s told me enough times that she’s not exactly happy to be sitting still for an hour at a stretch. With me, she tries to be this perfect little doll and with you…it’s amazing to watch her find her feet and grow confident in her place.”

He nods, staring at her with a look in his eyes that I can only call love. It makes me both happy and weepy just seeing how much he does love her, even if he’s not the most emotive guy.

“She will learn to be herself soon enough in this family. Just wait till my sisters come down with their brood. It’s shout or be ignored with that bunch.” He chuckles, pulling me closer into his side.

The envelope is burning a hole in my lap and I shift it guiltily, shoving it onto the side of the couch as I snuggle closer and watch him watch our family.

“I can’t wait for Maria to bring Donna down. She’ll love Gabby and I can so see them being best friends.”

“I can see the two of them terrorizing poor Benito and Nero.” He laughs, kissing my head.

We spend the next while just snuggling, being together and watching poor Gabby wrestle with the bright orange wool while Nona tells her stories about her own childhood and a grandmother who used to rap her knuckles with her needles, swearing never to do such a thing.

It’s only later when we’re in bed and I’m sated and sprawled over Santiago’s chest that I remember the envelope and know I’m going to do something I’ll regret.

********************************************************************

I’m trembling as I kiss Santiago and see him stalk to the door, his face set as he listens to Gabby chatter about school and having the coolest uncle who takes her to school in his expensive car.

I wait until they’re out the door and on their way before walking to the living room on leaden feet and retrieving the envelope. It’s heavy as I lift it and tuck it under my arm, the weight weighing me down in my spirit as I make my way to the little office I set up off Santiago’s own study.

Locking the door behind me, I walk to the desk and sit down heavily. I feel drained this morning after an almost sleepless night spent thinking about what I’ll discover and also sick to my stomach after forcing myself to eat a breakfast I didn’t want.

I can’t afford for Santiago to get suspicious so I’ve spent the last two hours getting Gabby ready for school, listening to her chatter through breakfast and trying to remain calm when inside I’m a wreck.

Don’t do this, Jamaica! It’s a bad idea. Just ignore the temptation and be a good girl.

I mutter a curse and tell my inner Catholic Bible thumper to fuck off and reach for the letter opener, tearing into the paper before I can change my mind.

I’m about to pull everything out when the phone rings, startling me so much I let out a screech and fall off the chair, knocking my head against the corner of my desk.

I groan and rub at a fast forming lump, reaching up to grab my phone before it can stop ringing.

“You’re about to do something bad! My psychic says you need to stop doing whatever you’re doing and be a good girl.”

I groan as Fran cackles, her normally exuberant greeting falling short of making me laugh like it always does. My phone beeps again and I murmur for her to wait before checking the screen.

“Shit, that’s Mia, let me conference this.”

I hit the button and regret it immediately when Fran starts going on and on about how her Satanic psychic saw me doing something I shouldn’t and called her to tell her to tell me that I’m in trouble.

I refuse to believe this, seeing as it would necessitate a payment to that shyster and I refuse to pay someone who thinks they can talk to the dead. That’s Haley Joel’s job and if you don’t believe me, ask Bruce Willis.

I should totally watch that movie again I think randomly, grunting when Mia giggles and starts yelling questions at me.

“Whatcha doing that you shouldn’t be doing? And don’t tell me that psychic is a con artist again, she told me that Daphne needed to go to the doctor and then we found out she’s got mild asthma and you know what the psychic said?”

“That she charges by the minute?” I ask sarcastically, making Fran sniff unhappily.

“No! She said that she kept seeing Daphne in a candy store!”

“That could just be because she went to that convention with her daughters! That’s not proof.” I huff.

See, I’m a cop at heart no matter if I have a badge or not and the day I believe a psychic-

“She said not to quack either!” Fran yells, making chills run down my spine because that’s my and Bill’s code for get fu-

“She did not!”

“Yeah, she did. She said you should go see Ben when the bean sprouts. I gotta admit even I don’t know what the hell that means!” Fran mutters, probably not at all happy about not knowing.

A little back story on this issue. Fran has a habit of running background checks on her dates, even checks their dentals because she’s a freak about oral hygiene - why I don’t know since the woman is not an oral junkie, know what I’m saying? Anyway, she does all that and very recently she got busted on a stake out, well a sorta stake out.

It boils down to Fran deciding she’d try a relationship for once instead of just casual sex. But Fran being Fran she wanted guarantees that she wasn’t walking into anything unacceptable, mainly being faithful to someone - giving up other cock, her words, not mine - and being an old idiot in the bargain.

Turns out she decided the best way to do that was following around the guy she was dating monogamously.

I told her what she was doing can be considered stalking so now Fran isn’t allowed to do anything that could be considered an invasion of privacy and if any judge should ever find out she’s more than just interested in a man, i.e., running checks, etc., she’s got a hefty fine and community service to look forward to.

Now Fran relies on Wanda for any and all information and let me just say…the bitch is creepy! WTF, man?

“She’s right isn’t she? Whatcha doing?” Fran crows, making me moan out a curse and rest my aching head against the desk drawer where I’m sitting on the floor.

“Nothing.”

“Liar.”

“Fran, it’s not nice to call people liars.”

“Well, Mia baby, what should I call little Miss I Got Married Without Telling Anyone? She’s hiding something and she’s lying about it.”

“Maybe it’s personal!”

“Who cares? If people really wanted things to stay private they wouldn’t have Facebook pages or Tweeter accounts.”

“Twitter. It’s Twitter,” I mutter.

“Whatever. Face it, privacy is a dead language.”

“Er, Fran? I really don’t think-”

“Like I care what you think, Jamaica! I don’t care, all I want to know is what’s going on with you? You know Nona posted a pic of you crying and clutching your knee yesterday! Is that you pissing yourself?” she cackles.

I groan and fall sideways, begging God to just take me now. I didn’t even know that old fart had Facebook. I thought she still carved out messages on a stone tablet and used a square wheel to transport it.

“No. I spilled my coffee on my lap and stubbed my toe when I jumped up.” I lie, thanking God I don’t see any use in that cloud if my parents are gonna be there, as according to Aunt Sue.

“Wanda said-”

“I give a fuck what Wanda said! That bitch better watch her back,” I yell, sniffling against the carpet just as my phone beeps again.

“That’s Emmie! Wanda said Emma was gonna call too. This rocks. If it’s true, I know Wanda is gonna be right about me winning that car with that lottery we got going at work.”

I mutter something Nona taught me in Spanish that very neatly spells out what Fran can do with that car and check my screen. Shit. I fucking hate Wanda!

“Listen you two, this is Emma-”

“Yes!”

“And I don’t want you torturing her with sex questions okay. Fran, swear to God, if you so much as breathe the word cock I will send out a silent assassin on your ass,” I warn just before answering Em.

“Hey Emmie, listen before you say anything. The two crazies are on the phone, too.”

“Hey, I resent that. That shrink said I was only slightly psychotic and am not a danger to society.”

I giggle at Fran’s defense of herself and truly believe that she slept with that woman to get herself cleared of instability rumors.

Emma squeaks a hello and keeps silent while Fran takes the floor.

“So Emma, my psychic Wanda said that Jamaica is doing something she shouldn’t be doing and short of sucking some guy’s-”

“Francesca!”

“Fine, fine I’ll keep it PG for the little ones. Emma, please if you don’t want me using bad language just get your nut sac cousin to tell us what she’s doing.”

I can hear Emma cringing and I’m surprised when she hums and starts talking with so many ears on the same line.

“That’s actually why I was calling, Jay. I have this bad feeling.”

“Oh, enough, you guys!” I yell, huffing to my feet to fall into my chair. “Fine, okay so I may have taken a leaf out of Fran’s book-”

“You slashed your husband’s tires?”

“No. Jesus, what do you think I am?”

“Fine, you went small. You put Epsom salts in granny Hatchet’s tea? Guaranteed she’ll be speaking to Jesus in a week if she’s pooping herself at her age.” She laughs, making me slap a hand to my forehead.

“Christ, Fran, I don’t want her dead. Not every day,” I say, thinking about that old sneak hiding somewhere and spying on me long enough to upload stills to Facebook.

Maybe a liiiiittle Epsom salts wouldn’t kill her.

“Fine, then what’s up, because I swear to God, Jamaica, if Wanda is giving you readings for free you know something isn’t right.”

God, take me now, I beg, feeling a shot of vertigo hit me. Cripes, I may just have to go see that doctor after all.

“I sorta had a friend of mine to a background and deep dig on Santiago. But it’s all innocent! I swear,” I rush to say, groaning silently when Fran and Mia laugh and Emma sighs.

“That’s insane, Jay. You should trust your husband.”

“Trust is for the weak! Look at poor Julius. He got shanked by his best pal Bruce.” Fran quips making me snort.

“That was Julius Caesar and Brutus,” Emma mumbles, her own snort making Mia burst with laughter.

“Whatevs. Like I even care who those old fossils are. My point is that if you gotsta knows ya gotsta knows. So what did it say? Is there a family cross dresser? I always wanted a cross dresser as my best friend but it’s surprisingly hard to get in with those bitches. They pull hair and bite.” She whines.

I bite my lips to keep from laughing and hear Emma roll her eyes.

“Fran, you’re a nut.”

“I like sucking nuts,” she retorts and I can almost hear Emma’s silent inner screaming.

“Fran.”

“Fine! Jesus, what is this, prayer circle?”

“Jamaica, please tell me you did not have your own husband investigated.” Mia moans.