Winger lifts one eyebrow and blinks at me as if my response shocked him too.
“I couldn’t let him have the bag,” I say, trying to recover.
“Why? What was in it?”
I snap my mouth closed. Self-preservation keeps me from muttering another word. I don’t think confessing to murder is the right move here.
“What was in the bag, Max?” he presses, proving I gave away too much with my reaction. He even shortens my name to make it seem like we’re more than enemies. I’m not sure how I feel about it. I’ve never had a nickname. Is it weird I think I like it?
“Nothing to do with you,” I tell him truthfully.
His eyes narrow for a brief moment, as if he’s assessing if he should believe me. I probably wouldn’t believe me, but then again, I have trust issues.
I fire off my own question. “Why did you do it anyway?”
“Do what?” He pulls his head back.
“Stop that guy. Most people would have just walked away.” This is the real reason I followed him, because I needed to know what he got out of it.
“A man was trying to rob you and you’re asking why I stopped him?” I can’t tell if he’s being patronizing or if he’s really confused by the question.
“It didn’t involve you, so why did you step in?” I sound defensive, which is probably not the best way to get answers.
He shakes his head slowly, then says, “Because Icouldstop him,” he replies, implying I couldn’t. That doesn’t really bother me, since I’m sure it looked like I couldn’t stop him. What bothers me is how simple his answer is. I made it into this big thing that took on weight and meaning in my life, but for him, it was as simple as hecould,sohedid.
A self-deprecating snicker catches me off guard before I grab my lower stomach and the chuckle cuts off abruptly. I brought all this on myself because a simple act of kindness is so foreign to me, I had to assign it a bigger meaning. I feel pretty dumb.
“Do you need more medicine?” Winger asks.
My eyes roam over his face, and a sadness I’ve often felt but never really understood until this moment tightens my chest. I’m sad for what I could have had if I weren’t born to a wretched human who thought it was perfectly fine to pimp out her daughter to the highest bidder. I’ve spent so much time pretending everyone is like her, and in turn like me, that at some point, I started to truly believe there wasn’t anything good or right in this world.
“Yes,” I answer. It’s not because I can’t handle the pain in my stomach, it’s because I can’t handle everything else.
He stands up, moves over to the cabinet near the fridge, and pulls down the bottle without question and dumps the pills into his hand. For a second, I think about asking him for the whole bottle. If two help me sleep, then maybe more would be even better. The fear of looking weak stops me from voicing my desire, but I pop the two pills he places in my palm and hurriedly take a sip of water.
When I stand, I remember I’m not his guest and ask, “Mind if I lie down, warden?”
He nods, dismissing me without words.
CHAPTER14
WINGER
Something shifts in Maxine during our conversation, but I don’t know how to describe it or what it means. I also don’t know if I can believe that her behavior has nothing to do with my business. She never gave me a real answer anyway. A big part of me wants to believe her though, which is troubling. I don’t think I can trust my instincts about her. My empathy may be skewing how I feel, and I still have questions. Did she know the guy who attacked her? What is the list she mentioned when she was sick with pain? If not my lifestyle and who I work with, then why follow me?
I don’t agree or push her when she closes the door to her room. Instead, I sit on the couch, allowing me the best vantage point to see the door of her room, and make a few calls.
* * *
Iron showsup at the door a few hours later. I still haven’t heard a peep from the room, but I know she’s still inside. The windows have bars to keep anyone from getting in or out, and it’s not like she could burrow through the wall without me noticing.
“Hey,” he greets with a canvas bag hanging at his side. When he sets it on the counter, it clangs as the contents shift. “I grabbed what you asked for. You could have called out the security company to handle this shit.”
“I’d rather take care of it myself,” I explain while sorting through the bag.
“So where is she?” He crosses his arms, keeping his voice low.
“Who?” I play dumb.
