“That’s different,” he says.
“What were youbothdoing?”
“I was betting. On a fight,” Frankie explains.
“A fight? What kind of fight? And how were you betting?” I ask, because she’s underage.
“An underground fight. She wasn’t supposed to be there,” Emilio says.
“Why wereyouthere?” I look to Emilio, who smiles like the damn Cheshire Cat.
“I was the star of the show.”
“You were fighting? In an underground what? Fight club?” I cock a brow.
“Yes. And I won.” He smiles.
I roll my eyes and turn back to Frankie. “Why were you there?”
“I was hoping to watch this asshole get his ass whooped. And I wanted to make money while it happened.” She grins.
“Except you lost. A lot of fucking money,” Emilio grumbles.
“How much?” I ask.
“Five-hundred grand,” Frankie says. “I really had high hopes he’d lose.”
I don’t know what I’m more shocked over. The amount that she bet, or the fact she bet against Emilio and wanted to watch him get his ass kicked. “How did you even pay that?”
“She couldn’t,” Emilio says. “I paid it for her.”
“And how didyoupay it?” Five-hundred grand is a lot of money for a seventeen-year-old.
“Papa has a joint account for us to access.” Emilio shrugs. “He won’t care.”
I highly doubt Tío E won’t care that one of his kids spent five-hundred grand. “Right. So, how did you both end up here?”
Frankie aims an accusatory finger at Emilio. “He’s threatening to tell my dad.”
“You owe me five-hundred grand,” he says. “You can’t pay it, but I’m sure your daddy can bail you out.”
“He isn’t going to rat on you, Frankie. And you…” I point to Emilio now. “…should not be fighting. What would your mother think?”
He grimaces. “She doesn’t need to know.”
“That’s what I thought. So if you rat her out, guess what she’s doing?”
“Telling my mother,” Emilio grunts.
“Exactly. You are both in the wrong. You really shouldn’t be fighting, and you certainly shouldn’t be spending money you don’t have. Especially betting.” Sometimes I hate having to be the responsible one.
“Good chat, Jazzy. Love to stick around, but my dad’s been blowing up my phone for the past thirty minutes. If I don’t show my face soon, he’s going to send a search party.” Emilio stands and walks out.
“You really think he won’t tell?” Frankie asks.
“He’s not going to tell on you, Frankie. When has he ever?” I remind her.
“Never,” she says.