Page 50 of Praying for Thunder

As if learning the biggest secret of all, he shook his head. “And the mystery is solved.” Almost sad, he lifted his hand.

It had a smear of my blood.

I had been cut by the window that saved my life.

⚡⚡⚡

I don’t know all the details of the man with a gun, or the accidental fire that had destroyed Sexy Myths, but from what I gathered, Tiny Cherry had indeed seen a ghost. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been dead, and we paid a heavy price.

Stew suffered serious burns and was in the ICU. Moola had been released from the hospital the day after the incident, but we hadn’t seen her since because she was spending every minute at the hospital. Apparently, my young eyes had missed the love affair happening right in front of me.

Moola and Stew.

Harry was fighting with his insurance company, which was refusing to pay on a technicality.

Candy, finding her breaking point, jumped on a plane and flew home to stay with her sister.

Ani and I were left to deal with news cameras. Dio was in protective overdrive. Bastards helped him get Ani and me from her car and into the apartment stairway while questions and microphones were pointed at us. “Do you feel like a hero, Suzan Semloh? That’s what they’re calling you. Is Miss Moola grateful for you thinking so quick on your feet with the hose? How long have you been an exotic dancer at Sexy Myths? Was your seven-year-old son hurt in the fire? How did you manage the break in the wall?”

Diablo quickly answered, “There was already significant structural damage. They were very lucky. Now, no more comments.”

Another question was asked, “Miss Semloh, were you close to the now-deceased dancer, Tiny Cherry?”

When Ani’s shoulders seized, Diablo snapped, “I said no comment, you fucking cunts!”

We were ushered inside, and the door was slammed in the media’s faces.

Quietly, Dio, some Bastards, and I followed a crying Anita up the flight of stairs that felt like they would close in on us at any moment. That is how brokenhearted my Ani was.

Three days later, we attended a funeral.

Stew couldn’t be there, nor Moola, but an amazing thing happened. Some of the community came to pay their respects. They may not have been fond of a strip joint in their town, but they cared for young women who had lost their way. Even a small church donated its chapel and services.

In the dirt parking lot, I got out of the car. When I didn’t proceed toward the church, and just stood there staring, it was Dio who would explain what I needed to know.

Closing Ani’s door, after helping her from the passenger seat, he asked me, “You okay, Little Guy?”

I kept staring. “Is there lies in there?”

Surprised by my accusing inquiry, he blew out air. “Yes and no.” He stood behind me, his fingers swiping through my longer blond hair. “Some take advantage of precious words, yes, but ‘church’ can be a place to feed a hungry soul.”

Bastards were there to pay their respects, but also as security. Not that any ended up being needed. Only local news media appeared. The story was now old, and we were left to pick up what pieces were left.

At the open casket, Dio held Ani’s hand. She was surprised when he shed a tear, apologizing, “I shoulda got there sooner.”

Staring at her dear friend, who now looked as if peacefully sleeping, she sniffled and wiped her red cheeks. “It all happened so fast. She was dancing…” she sobbed, “looking so beautiful…” She whispered, “And then she wasn’t.”

When Ani nodded to me, telling me it was time, she picked me up. I reached over the edge of the casket and set a piece of paper on Cherry’s chest. It was a drawing of me, Ani, Candy, Ben, Harry, Dio, Moola, and Stew, all smiling.

Crying, I whispered, “Now you won’t be lonely, Aunt Tiny.”

Understandably, almost losing me rattled Anita to her core. I was back to sleeping in bed between Dio and her. This seemed to make Dio feel better, too. Especially when he, eventually, left town, claiming club business, but I knew better. Before he left, he took me for a walk outside, just me and him.

In front of me, he knelt. “Thunder.” He peered at his nervous hands. “You’re my boy.” He peered back at me. “You know that, right?”

I can’t explain why, but I started crying. “Yes, sir.”

He did, too. “And always will be.” He tapped his chest. “Right, Little Guy? But…” He struggled to breathe. “If I had the chance to know my dad was a good person, I’d give almost anything.” He grabbed my shoulder, affectionately squeezing. “So, I gotta find this out for you. Understand?” He choked on tears.