“Yeah, baby.”
“Did she do this a lot? When you were growing up, I mean?”
He nodded. He didn’t seem pained, or saddened, just resigned. This was another night at home for him.
“Do you want to go home? To the house on Snow?”
“Do you?”
I kept my face intentionally blank.
“No.” He sighed. “I’d rather sleep out in Mitch’s effing truck again then make you do something that’ll tear you apart. The music should drown out any more noise.”
A few minutes later he yawned, putting his hand over my breast, coming in closer. He was settling into sleep.
“If you get up before me, for whatever reason, make sure you wake me up, Ballerina Girl. You are so light when you move that I don’t feel you sometimes.”
I told him that I would. Then I let him sleep, even though I couldn’t. I was never a sound sleeper, nor was I good at finding it as soon as my head hit the pillow. I had thoughts, so many thoughts that time didn’t always allow for during the day. But they always seemed to find me right before bed.
Once the sun had risen, I rose with it. Golden, smoldering light filtered in through the window, promising another hot one. Emory was set to meet the old Emory today, but before he did, Emory wanted to see the old man. And there was only one place old Emory went first thing on a Sunday. Church.
Intent on getting a jump on the day, I took my things and hopped in the shower. I forgot my clothes in the room, so I slipped my silk robe back on and wrapped my hair in a towel. It seemed like Maggie Beautiful’s guest was gone, so I started breakfast.
I had just taken out a pan full of hot biscuits when a man emerged from the shadows, sniffing in my direction. He was handsome, young, probably around Brando’s age, which was a bit of a surprise to me, and still seemed drunk.
“Ooh,” he said, sniffing even harder. “Those smell good.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “There are plenty. You can take one for the road.”
“Thank ya,” he said, grabbing for one. “You wouldn’t happen to have any jelly, would ya?”
I turned to the refrigerator, to check the shelves, when he said never mind, and pinched me so hard on my bottom that I let out an almightyOW!and fell into the door, all of its contents jingling. The pain was instant, as searing as a burn, bringing unbidden tears to my eyes.
At first, I thought it was Brando who had grabbed him by the collar, but it was Mitch. I hadn’t even heard him come in. He ripped the pincher from the kitchen, and on his way out, he pinched him so hard on his bottom that the guy let out a yowl.
I stood against the counter, rubbing my sore bottom when Brando came in, his hair wild, dressed in only boxer briefs.
“I told you to wake me up,” he said.
“He’s gone.”Keep it together, don’t cry, don’t cry. But my ass was smarting.“Thought I’d start breakfast.” Turning, I started removing the biscuits and putting them on a plate.
“Yeah,” Mitch said, coming back into the kitchen. “I walked him out.”
I glanced at him, my eyes pleading,Don’t tell him.He nodded, only a subtle move, but one I caught.I won’t.I loved Violet. I loved Mick. But I had a strange connection with Mitch. We both knew what it was like to be left behind.
“Tell me what the fuck is going on,” Brando said, staring at my face.
“Nothing.” I lifted my hands. “I hit my back on the fridge. And it hurts.” I wiped my eyes.
His eyes softened, but they still seemed suspicious. “Let me see.”
For modesty’s sake, Mitch left the kitchen, and Brando lifted my robe. The air went through his teeth.
“That’s not your back. And you’re almost bleeding. The blood is to the surface.”
“I need some ice.” I moved away from him, going for the door. “Why don’t you and Mitch start eating? I don’t want to be late.”
“Scarlett.” The muscles in his neck were tight and coiled.
