I don’t look at Glory. Ignoring her whimpering, incoherent mumbles. All I can see is Charlie slumped in the chair like she doesn’t have bones anymore. A small, fragile thing breathing in shudders.
I step toward her. One hand outstretched, hovering. Unsure.
She looks fucking dead. I know she isn’t, but the tightness in my chest won’t go away.
I wince when I hear someone yell. The voice sharp and familiar.
“Oh God!”
Chaos erupts upstairs. Followed by hurried footsteps. Doors slam and shouts barrel through the air like a bomb, and she bursts in.
“Oh my God. Stop, stop,stop!”
Deborah, my mom.
Her face crumples as soon as she sees Charlie. “Oh my child!”
She runs straight to her, falling to her knees before her. Then she gingerly holds her head up, assessing the map of bruises already starting to bloom on Charlie’s slack face.
I stand there. Watching her. She’s still not moving.
Mama whispers at first. “Oh God. What have I done?”
She’s still kneeling, hands shaking as she brushes Charlie’s hair off her bloodied forehead.
Then something snaps in her. My mother shoots up like a goddamn firecracker. Her finger jabs into my chest. Hard.
“Why?” she screams. “Why would you do this to a club princess? A child?”
Okay, she’s nineteen. Not a child but I can only blink. My mouth opens but nothing comes out at first. “She—they were stealing from Sinful Chugs. We… we found money in their accounts—”
“Oh, Lord! Glory, I can see. But Charlie?” She shakes her head, wild-eyed. “Charlie wouldneverdo that.”
“Mama, I saw it with my own eyes,” I grit out, the words tasting sour. “There were identical cash deposits in their accounts going back five years and—”
Crack.
The slap lands before I even see her hand move.
My head snaps to the side.
She’s glaring at me, tears streaking her face. “Five years ago, Charlie was fourteen. She hadn’t even started working the register. That was a year later.”
I can’t think. I can’t breathe.
“But Glory said—”
“And you’re believing a club whore now, son?” Her voice breaks at the edges. “That’s who you trust now?”
I grit my teeth, but I’m drowning. “Mama, they hang out together all the fucking time. Swap shifts. We saw the money rolling into their accounts, okay? Maybe Charlie didn’t start this. But she’s been stealing our money. Evidence is clear.”
A ragged whisper cuts through the air. “My money…”
My attention jerks toward Charlie. Her head lolls, and she goes quiet again. Mama stares at her, then drops back to her knees before her. Her hands hesitantly hovering over her cheek.
“Even if she did,” she murmurs, voice shaking, “she doesn’t deservethis.” Her eyes flick to Glory, a sneer forming. “God,I should’ve known. I should’ve done something when Charlie stopped coming to our house and started hanging out here instead. With her.”
Then she sobs—miserable and shattered. “I should’ve paid more attention.”
