Fifteen
Nice Tattoo
Jacinta stands at the island, a frying pan held up in her remaining hand. I lock the front door behind me, just in case.
“How did you get in?”
“Laundry room window.”
“You fit through that?” And how did I not hear it?
Jacinta chuckles and slides the pan onto the cooktop. “I’m not sure if I should be insulted by that question.”
“No, it’s just that it’s damn small.”
“And I am damn clever.” She winks. “Now—huevos rancheros. Where are all those tomatoes I brought?”
I smile sheepishly. “I ate them?”
“Gah, just like Cordi. Regular eggs it is, then. Scrambled or poached?”
I climb onto a bar stool, a million questions swirling through my head about why she’s here, where she was before this, the story behind what happened to her hand, and of course, anything she can te
