The Dirty Divorce Read Online Free PDF

didn’t have to witness any of this dysfunctional shit, but Juan hated Rich ever since he went to jail a couple of years ago, so him being home would’ve definitely caused more confusion.
    “Just get out!” I yelled.
    “Sorry about all of this, Lisa,” Carlos said before he walked out and shut the bedroom door.
    As more tears began to flow, the more I began to ask myself questions? What happened to that man that I loved? The Juan Sanchez Sr. I fell in love with would’ve never been this disrespectful. Now, he’d become Rich, the thoughtless, cruel cheating asshole who I couldn’t stand to be around. He didn’t even like for me to call him Juan anymore. I had to call him by the stupid-ass nickname his boys had given him years ago. Our lives were not supposed to be like this.
    After crying for what seemed liked forever, I finally walked back into the bathroom and put on my pineapple Body Shop lotion. I took a deep breath as I opened the medicine cabinet. Feeling helpless, I couldn’t believe that I even considered downing the entire bottle of Rich’s pain killers. I just needed to get away. However, the more my son crossed my mind, I knew that I could never leave him. Walking to my customized walk-in closet, I slipped into one of my cashmere Juicy Couture sweat suits to get comfortable. Normally, I would’ve put on something a little sexier, but the last thing I wanted was for Rich to see me partially naked. After hopping on the bed, I turned to VH-1 to catch up on my reality shows until I passed out.
     
     
    ***
     
    The next morning, the sun peaked through my bedroom window waking me up extra early. I also woke up in the bed alone, which wasn’t surprising. I was so used to Rich staying out all night it didn’t even bother me anymore. Going into the bathroom, I washed my face and brushed my teeth before going downstairs to fix some breakfast. After deciding to skip dinner, my stomach was definitely on “E”, and I needed something to control my nausea, which I was sure came from me taking too many pills.
    When I walked down stairs, I could hear Rich and Carlos in a deep conversation, obviously plotting something. I was surprised to even see them. I just knew they would still be out getting into some trouble. Whenever Carlos came to my house, it usually meant bad news. Carlos was in the game deep and ran shit on the West Coast, from L.A. to Arizona. With them being first cousins they’d been close since they were young. Rich’s father cared for Carlos most of his life due to Carlos’ father, Lorenzo, being in and out of jail.
    With jet black hair and thick eyebrows, Carlos’ Columbian heritage was very distinctive. Everyone always thought they were brothers because he and Rich looked so much alike, but they were complete opposite. Carlos had this rugged side to him. He dressed in jeans and sweats all the time and wore long cornrows that touched his shoulders. He also had tattoos everywhere, and even had tears tatted on his face under his eye. Rich on the other hand, switched his look up more often. He had more variety in his style. He would wear anything from a button up and loafers, to a hoody and jeans. He dressed for the occasion and was classy, while Carlos was hood.
    When I walked past the family room Carlos said, “Good morning,” while Rich said nothing.
    “Why are you still here? Don’t you have somewhere to be?” I asked irritated. “Does Marisol know where you are?”
    “Lisa, mind your fuckin’ business and stay in a woman’s place,” Rich responded with an old-school authority.
    Ignoring him, I went in the kitchen, opened the refrigerator and decided to make breakfast for the guys despite all the drama the night before. As soon as I put the finishing touches on the eggs, French toast, and turkey bacon, Rich came into the kitchen and just stood in the doorway. Since I knew he was on edge, I decided not to say a word and just fixed my plate.
    “Damn, where’s my plate?” he