At the other end of the line, Debbie recognized the girl’s voice. She smiled bitterly and said, “Put my


    husband on the phone.”


    Megan had been nervous the whole afternoon, worrying that she would be held responsible if Debbie


    was dead. Now that she heard Debbie’s voice, she heaved a sigh of relief. ‘Thank God. She’s not


    dead.’


    “Uncle Carlos doesn’t want to talk to you right now.” Megan Lowered her tone to a whisper. As far away


    as Carlos was, he was definitely out of earshot. The whisper was a voice that only she and Debbie


    could hear.


    The girl nced around warily.


    But Debbie wasn’t happy. ‘Doesn’t want to talk to me? Who’s this bitch to decide whom he talks to?!’


    “Put him on the phone!” Debbie demanded, balling her hands into fists. If Megan were standing in front


    of her right now, she would put one of those fists to good use-punching her in the face.


    “Uncle Carlos is in a bad mood. He really doesn’t want to talk to you.


    It took hours for me to make him smile even a little. Just leave him alone. Moreover, Uncle Carlos told


    me to answer the call for him. He even told me how to unlock his phone. Just go away.”


    “So how do you unlock his phone?” Debbie doubted what she said.


    Anything Megan said was suspect at this point.


    To her surprise, Megan recited the new password to get into Carlos‘ phone-Debbie’s birthday. She’d set


    it only a few days ago. Now, she had to believe Megan was telling the truth. Heartbroken, she hung up


    the phone quickly.


    But Megan’s performance had only just begun. Still holding the phone to her ear, she pushed open the


    door to the private booth and said in a persuasive tone, “Aunt Debbie, hang on. Why don’t you tell


    Uncle Carlos that yourself? Hello? Aunt Debbie?”


    Carlos opened his eyes suddenly when he heard Megan’s words. Megan showed him the conversation


    log while holding the phone with trembling hands.


    “Aunt Debbie called from an unknown number. I thought it was


    Tristan, so I answered it, but it turned out to be Aunt Debbie. She asked me to tell you that she wouldn’t


    be home tonight and then hung up.”


    Carlos took the phone and red at the number silently for a long moment before he called Debbie, but


    he didn’t get through; it went straight to voice mail.


    He hung up in disgust and then dialed the unknown number. A woman answered the phone.


    “Hello?”


    “Where is Debbie Nelson?” Carlos asked coldly.


    “Oh, you mean the young girl who borrowed my phone? She left with her boyfriend.”


    “Boyfriend?’ Carlos stood up abruptly from the couch.


    “Where did they go?”


    The woman smiled.


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    “I don’t know. Her boyfriend carried her in his arms.


    It was so sweet. Lucky her! My husband and I were talking about the happy couple.”


    Jealousy and anger filled Carlos, recing the disgust he had felt before. These were rawer and more


    powerful emotions, and Carlos was no stranger to them. In fact, he felt more powerful, more physically


    imposing when he was upset.