Joana
I offered to drive to my uncle’s house for a file I did not care about, because my cousin was there, and I had been wet for his c**k since I learned what one was for.
That was the truth I did not say in the living room.
Aiden sat forward on our couch with his tablet and half a merger in his mouth, telling Mom they could close tonight if he had the other packet. He had left it on Jayden’s desk. He was already calculating the drive back across town, the wasted hour, the way money hated delay. Maria — my mother, his sister — was nodding, glasses on, shareholder brain on, the two of them in that old sibling rhythm that made the rest of us furniture.
“I’ll go,” I said.
Both of them looked at me like I had offered to swallow glass.
They knew the story we sold. Joana and Jayden. Could
