She starts pacing immediately, phone in hand, firing off texts and making calls like she’s moving chess pieces across a board.
“You’re staying here.”
“I don’t want to be a burden.”
Lady stops pacing and fixes me with a sharp look.
“Girl, you think you’re a burden?” she says. “You’re a headline waiting to happen. Not on my watch.”
My throat tightens. I turn toward the window and stare out at the skyline.
Somewhere out there Diablo is breathing the same thick Miami air.
Somewhere out there Carmen is calm and smiling, wearing his ring.
Lady drops onto the couch beside me.
“You wanna know the crazy part?” she asks.
“What?”
“That man looks at you like you’re oxygen.”
I swallow hard.
“He also looks at me like I’m property.”
Lady snorts.
“Welcome to Miami.”
Exhaustion finally crashes over me like a wave.
I barely sleep that night.
Every time I close my eyes I see Disco’s empty cage.
Every time I hear a noise I imagine Rico standing outside the door.
Or Diablo.
Or Carmen.
Days blur together.
Lady keeps me busy on purpose. She drags me to lunches with people whose names trend online. She sits me in glam chairs while stylists curl my hair and paint my face like I’m someone who has her life together.
She calls it confidence.
I know it’s survival.
We don’t talk about Diablo unless I bring him up.
I never bring him up.
But sometimes I see him anyway.
A black Harley at a stoplight.
