Another knock rattled the door. I winced at the bright peephole glow and cracked it open.
“Thought you offered to watch Darius.” I gave Shanice the full up-and-down. Although implied, I decided not to add “for free.” I’d worked six days straight. She had also watched Dariusfor payduring my shifts. She and her seventy-three-year-old grandma, who swore she was thirty-seven. They double-teamed him and her daughter while Shanice got her degree online in medical billing. I gave her a once-over. Her sequined dress screamed Friday night. “You look cute.”
Shanice wriggled her ombré eyebrows. “We ‘bout to pass a good time. Ring in the New Year like the Saints gone win the next Super Bowl!”
“Whenweare included in a sentence, there’s an expectation?—”
“Ugh, don’t get white girl on me.”
I palmed my forehead.Lawd. Montana had tried me with theIsley Brothers reference. Growing up foster didn’t mean I wasn’t Black. It made me more colorful than Skittles and Starburst put together. Strengthened me, too, when I spoke up during residency to get noticed.
And you did. Now you’re on the run with the adorable by-product of said residency.
“Free dinner!” she sang.
Mm-hmm. The melody gave scammer energy.
Hours later, she’d buttered me up and shoved me into a strapless dress I prayed I didn’t sneeze in. Now, I walked toward a neon sign for a … bar.
And not just any bar.
A spot in Marigny, with black-polished brick walls and bright-pink, ornate wrought-iron decor. A sign near the door promoted their private events.
What kind?
Speed dating?—?
Girl, is your mind on Montana?
No,I told myself. Yes, I had a split personality within the walls of my mind. If I kept busy, my little turncoat brain couldn’t?—
Oh, no. It did.
I blinked away the image of Montana’s attractive face and continued to read the poster.Oh, seminars. They hosted 401(k) seminars.
Hands on my shoulders, Shanice wheeled me inside as if she’d strapped me to a standing wheelchair at a psych hospital. “We ain’t here for that, Inspector Journey.”
“I’m leaving at the stroke of midnight.”
“Okay, I get it. You’ll turn into a pumpkin.”
“No. New Year is a tradition for me and mypumpkin.” I missed my baby.
She dragged me across hardwood floors to a shiny leather booth, blessed with shea butter.Ugh. The disturbingly spotless bar didn’t overstimulate my anxiety and keep my mind from … trouble.
Montana’s brother. The son Virginia prayed would get a job stood at the bar. Next to him, grinning like he’d barred the windows to prevent my escape, was the man himself. Big Country.
I cut my eyes at Shanice.
No, she didn’t.
Yes, she did. She’d thrown me into a lion’s den of poor decisions. And according to National Geographic, eye contact with a predator encouraged pursuit. I was tired of poking the king of the jungle with silly jokes. Woulddevouredbe such a bad way to go?
montana
. . .
My eyes drank her in the second she arrived. My brother’s date led her into the bar like Silence of the Lambs. What was her name? Didn’t matter. She’d done her job and brought Journey to me.
