It’s another jack of spades. On the back of the card, there’s only one word.

Boom.

“Carmen, get in the car”, Shane says sighing.

“Shane, I’m okay”, I reply quietly.

“Get in the fucking car”, she hisses between her gritted teeth and I frown.

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a five year old”, I state coldly, and she looks at me for a second.

Then she bows her head and I bite my tongue. We don’t have to panic. We don’t have to panic. This is the only thing I keep on repeating to myself.

Dante approaches us and his eyes are cold and unreadable. There is no trace of the warm, friendly guy I used to know, right now. I have no idea of the kind of things his job made him do, I have no idea of the things he saw, what I know is that he can be scary. It’s just a quick, rapid sensation, but it stings as a burning blade inside of me, and then disappears.

“I’m gonna call Marshall”, he just says, going back to his card, “I’m gonna wait you at your place, guys”.

Shane rests her hands on the car hood, her face pressed on the sleeve of her shirt. She sighs heavily and I slowly brush her back, trying to comfort her.

“Let’s go home. There is nothing we can do, here”, I murmur in exhaustion.

“Yeah, Chase will take care of everything… you know, the insurance, the report… everything…”, she agrees croakily, avoiding eye-contact with me, “…This is hell”.

”Heavy rings hold cigarettes
Up to lips that time forgets
While the Hollywood sun sets
Behind your back
And cant the band play on
Just listen, they play my song
Ash to ash
Dust to dust
Fade to black”

We climb back into the Jeep silently. Nobody of us wants to keep her eyes of the torch that WAX has become. Shane steers like the wheel weights a ton, her dark eyes covering her forehead and, partially, her eyes.

I rest my elbow on the passenger door and stare at the black street slipping rapidly outside the window.

“I’m sorry…”, Shane murmurs after a while.

I don’t turn my head. I start biting my nails unconsciously.

“About what?”, I ask, flatly.