┏━━━━✶ ࣪˖࿐ *━━━━┓

NOT A BREAKTHROUGH

WITH NINETEENTH STREET GETTING BALLSIER BY THE MINUTE, THE SECURITY DETAIL ON THE TURNERS SHOWED NO SIGNS OF LETTING UP.

Meaning that when Ella had woken up the next day and went to pull back the curtains to her window, she immediately spotted a familiar red car posted up across the street.

And she didn't need to see who was in it to know whose damn car that was. She groaned beneath her breath, pulling the curtains closed as she cursed her younger self for wanting the front-facing bedroom. "Fuck."

It was like the universe was playing the largest prank known to man on her. All she'd wanted was a Spooky-free summer— a concept that now seemed wholly impossible given his involvement with nineteenth street and with the task of finding Lil Ricky.

After changing into some suitable clothes, knowing the Gonzalez girl was on her way to collect her for brunch, she peeled the curtains back once more. This time, before she did, she whispered a little plea that perhaps spotting the car had been a trick of the eye.

Only, when her eyes opened after doing so, she immediately spotted it across the street. It looked a little closer than it had just moments ago, but maybe that in itself was the real trick of the eye.

Exiting from her room, bag draped over her shoulder, she found her father in the kitchen hovering over his laptop. She leaned in the doorway and announced her presence by saying, "I don't know how much you're paying him, but there's gotta be someone better than Spooky who can watch over us."

"I know how you feel about it, but it gives me peace of mind these days," he responded, looking up from his computer with a pointed look, "and considering he wouldn't even take my money, I'd say that—"

Ella held a hand up. "Wait," she interrupted, looking at the man as though he'd grown a second head, "could you repeat that?"

Spooky declining her father's money didn't make sense to the Turner girl, not one bit. Protection in Freeridge wasn't cheap, especially at a time like this where gangs were fighting for territory, and she knew that. In her mind, there was no plausible reason as to why he would do so, not when it was taking time out of his day. Not when the Santos never did shit for free.

"Listen, I didn't ask any follow-up questions," he said with his hands raised in defence. "Besides, it's only until things cool down."

She groaned, opening her mouth to say how things couldn't possibly cool down any time soon, but the honking of a familiar car horn outside interrupted her. "That's Pia," she said, thumb gesturing to the front door. "I'll be back later."

"Woah, woah!" Dwayne was suddenly shooting up from his chair, approaching the girl with worry lines already clear on his forehead. "I don't think it's safe for you two to be going off by yourselves."

"Dad, we're going for brunch," she emphasized slowly, before tacking on a, "in Brentwood. I'm pretty sure we'll be fine."

Her father still looked apprehensive. "Can't you take him with you?"

Ella's face screwed up. "You want me to take the dude with a teardrop tattoo to Brentwood?" she asked incredulously. "He'd stick out like a sore thumb."

Dwayne sighed. "Just— just be careful?"

She leaned up to kiss the man on the cheek. "Always am."

With that, she made her way to the front door, merely shouting back to her father so he could lock up behind her. Ella exited the home, spotting Pia Gonzalez's car parked across the street, a few mere feet in front of Spooky's.

Taking a deep breath, she hiked the bag over her shoulder some more and all but rushed toward her friend's car. Out of her peripheral, the man's window was rolled down, his hand that was leisurely hold a cigarette was hanging out of it as he watched her go. The eyes on the side of her temple almost made her steps quicken.

The minute she slid into the passenger seat was the minute Pia's collection of questions started to fire out of her mouth.

"Why's Spooky posted up here? Has he really resorted to stalking you? You know you could get an easy restraining order for that, right? My dad could probably—"

"Slow down, Pia," she interjected with a bark of laughter, seeing the way the girl's eyes were wide at the sight of the red car parked behind her. "I'll explain once we get there."

The Gonzalez girl gasped. "You scared he's got us wiretapped?" she asked, head jolting to look behind them. A honk from the car behind them resonated, and it made Pia jump in her seat.

Ella reached over and manually craned Pia's head back toward the front, and she had half a mind to switch the gearshift for the girl.

"Just drive!"

✶ ࣪˖*

By the time Ella had returned a few hours later, after practically spilling her guts to the Gonzalez girl about the trouble Nineteenth Street was stirring up and her shopping trip with the Diaz man, Spooky was still there.

His car had moved back a little, blocking the fire hydrant across the street which she rolled her eyes at. This time around, Pia parked directly in front of the Turner's lawn, flicking her hazards on before turning to her friend. "Say the word and I'll walk you to your door."

"I love you, but that's crazy," Ella laughed in dismissal, her hand already on the door. "What's he gonna do, ambush me for the millionth time?"

Pia's hand darted out, her knuckles knocking against Ella's forehead twice. "Don't jinx it," she demanded.

Ella fondly rolled her eyes, pushing the door open. "I'll text you."

Her friend gave her a smile. "Roger that, hermana."

With her takeaway container in hand, Ella waved as the girl pulled off, car zooming down the street and soon out of view.

Ella turned to walk up the paved steps that led to her front door when she paused, the container feeling a lot heavier than it once did. Her mind couldn't help itself— how long had Spooky been camped out across the street? Though, it was thoughts of worry like this that got them to where their relationship now stood, because he didn't need her worrying.

But the roll of her stomach made her flinch so subtly, but oh, how familiar that feeling that settled in her gut was.

She spun around, gripping the styrofoam box with fervour as she marched toward the car.

Approaching it, she could see that he was doing something on his phone. She held back an eye roll when her fingers rapped against the glass, gaining his attention. Judging by the look on his face, he was utterly confused.

When he made no move to do anything, she made a motion of the window rolling down. His hand reached to click the button that did so, and once it was down, she all but thrusted the container into the car. "Here," she said, like she was in a hurry. She watched as he took it from her hands with a raised eyebrow. "Ham and Swiss on ciabatta. The thing was massive so..."

She let her sentence hang, going to take a step away from the car and return home when his voice interrupted her. "Come sit, querida."

A protest was lodged in her throat, to the point where nothing was coming out. She swallowed it down, and because of that stupid, self-assured grin on his face, she rounded the car and slipped into the passenger seat.

The pair sat in silence as Spooky investigated the remnants of her sandwich, and despite complying with his request, she felt herself getting twitchy. "How is everything?" she asked, before clarifying, "y'know, out here."

He finished chewing and shrugged. "Ray's gone," he announced, and Ella stilled in her seat. "Your dad should be fine once Nineteenth catch on."

"What do you mean he's gone?" was her immediate inquiry. "Didn't he just come back? I thought— I thought he was staying?"

The roll of the man's jaw immediately told her that nothing good was about to come out of his mouth. "You can't teach an old dog new tricks," he offered up, suddenly putting the sandwich down in the container on his lap. "He didn't like the responsibility then, and he sure as hell doesn't now."

Ray Diaz had up and left his sons for the second time, and Ella could only shake her head. She couldn't say she wasn't shocked, because a part of her was. He'd just gotten a job, one he seemed to be taking seriously based on what her father had told her,

For the first time in a long time, she wasn't angry at him; she was angry on his behalf.

"He's a piece of shit," she deadpanned, before her eyebrows were softening— something that seemed purely instinctual. "I'm sorry he left."

Spooky chuckled, a deep sound, before he offered a one-shoulder type of shrug. "Cesar'll get over it."

"Yeah? And what about you?" she questioned pointedly.

The man was silent for more than a beat before he scratched at his jaw. "No use in worrying about it," he said instead. "It's the same shit with him. It ain't worth my time."

There it was again; he was deflecting away from how he was truly feeling, covering it all up behind this carefully crafted facade that was sitting just to her left. She settled back into the seat, head against the rest. "I think you're upset."

"I'm not," he fired back instantaneously, his tone kept a little too cool.

Ella and Oscar had spent more years together than they had spent years apart, and it was because of this that she knew him. The absence of his father hurt back then, so of course it would undoubtably hurt just the same now. Hell, maybe he was hurting even more, because this time around, she could just guess how well Ray's departure went down between him and Cesar.

That was why her eyes narrowed. "Yeah, you are," she stated, ignoring the flare of his nostrils at her accusatory tone. "You're pissy, because you always are, but at your core you are upset. Own it. I would be too if I—"

"You always think you know everything," Spooky grit out, and it made Ella bristle, "and it's funny because you don't."

The Turner girl scoffed, shaking her head when his gaze switched to the road in front of them. He wouldn't look at her, and it bitterly reminded her of what had led them here.

"The parts of you that haven't changed are the same parts of you that I know like the back of my goddamn hand," she snapped, her hand going to the latch that opened the car door. She shot him a narrowed look once he finally looked at her. "Don't you forget that, asshole."

Ella flung herself out of the car, slamming the door for extra emphasis, and inwardly cussed herself out.

Yeah, she should've just thrown out that damn sandwich.

✶ ࣪˖࿐ *

[ wyn's note ]

not the breakthrough ella was looking for, n that much is oh so apparent

thanks for bearing with me while i've been travelling— write a lil of this on my flight but finally finished it! tis the season x