"What kind of problems?"
"Uh...well, I..."
"Tell him, you bastard," Annette hissed, as Ray stumbled into, "I'm not sure of the specifics..."
"Liar!"
"I...maybe you better ask her husband."
She shot him one of her signature dirty looks (the evil eye, Enrique had insisted on calling it, no matter how much she complained that that was a specific thing), but the priest had gotten real good at ignoring her lately - gaze fixed on a point just past her, no matter how hard she tried to stay in his line of sight. So she focused on Enrique instead, her brother who she hadn't seen cry over her once, the heartless bastard - who came here in search of her last words. Well, she had some for him.
Fuck you. I died on my way to see you, dickbag, and all you been doing since is playing cards. After all I did for you.
You got a score to settle with me, cabrón.
"Yeah." Enrique licked his lips slowly. "Yeah, I'm gonna do just that."
---
"She was a cunt."
Watching Enrique shoot the breeze with that comemierda Javier had been bad enough, but hearing those words almost broke her. Bastards, she thought as her husband went on and on about what a whore she was, her brother nodding along - hating her noncorporeality, her inability to cry. All of you. Vete pal carajo.
"I mean, I don't like to disrespect the dead, Enrique -"
"Hey, you know what, Javier?" Enrique reached out to grab Javier by the shoulder and Annette turned away, unable to look any longer.
"You never will again."
She turned again just in time to see Enrique slam Javier's head down, then grab him by the shirt and pull him up again, their faces inches apart.
"My sister was a saint, you motherfucker!"
Again and again he smashed her husband's face against the table, shouting and cursing as the guards came for him, struggled to pull them apart. As they dragged Enrique away another guard helped Javier to his feet, and she caught a glimpse of his face - left side bloody and mangled. She touched her own.
"Serves you right," she spat, and his body stiffened.
"Annette?" he croaked, and she couldn't help but smirk.
"What's a matter? You look like you seen a ghost," lifting her cigarette to her lips as his knees buckled again.