She cut me off before I could finish.
"Apologize?! You think I still want to hear it?!"
Viciousness gleamed in her eyes.
"Dustin, I've spent eight years spoiling you rotten. Today, I'm putting you back in your place."
She glanced over her shoulder. Dozens of water guns swung toward me in unison.
The jets hit all at once, dense as whips, hammering into my face, my chest, my back.
The force knocked me flat.
Judy reached down and laced her fingers through Howard's.
Howard aimed the water gun straight at my face.
Water forced itself up my nose, flooded my ear canals, burned like fire through every passage it touched.
I tried to rise, but the pressure blurred everything to nothing.
I couldn't even lift my head. All I could do was kneel there and take it—jet after jet of ice-cold water slamming into me, every blast a fresh jolt of agony.
Howard saw what I looked like on my knees and let out a shrill, ugly laugh.
The moment she saw Howard laughing, Judy finally stopped.
She draped herself against him, nestling into his arms with that syrupy, performative sweetness, her voice so honeyed it could rot teeth.
"Howard, happy now?"
"With you, I'm always happy..."
Howard's answer drew a triumphant little laugh from Judy,
but before it had even faded,
he put on a pitiful, wounded look and spoke again.
"But..."
Judy's smile vanished instantly.
"But what?"
"Howard, don't hold back. I'm here. Just tell me what you want."
Howard slid his arm around Judy's slender waist, stroking the back of her hand over and over as he spoke slowly,
"My clothes just got soaked because of Dustin... I'm so cold..."
"That's fine, I'll take you to the mall right now and buy you something new."
"No."
Howard pointed at me, pulling Judy tighter against him.
"I want the one on Dustin. That one. Give it to me now."
"Not a chance!"
I cut him off, my voice hard.
This ceremonial coat was the Sanchez family heirloom—every head of the family wore it the day they took the seat. The family held it as sacred as the name itself. And this one, the one on my back, my mother had tailored to my frame stitch by stitch with her own hands before she died. My father kept it pristine for twenty years, waiting for the day I took over the regional branch.
I clutched my shoulders and staggered to my feet.
The ice-cold fabric against my skin made me shake uncontrollably.
Judy glanced in my direction, something unreadable flickering behind her eyes.