Prologue #4
“Don’t judge me.” I sit back with a scowl and watch the door like I’m waiting for them to come back.
They said their meeting would take an hour, and it’s been no more than ten minutes.
“He and my mom aren’t together -together.
They used to be together, they had me, then they separated.
Lots of kids at my school have divorced parents. It’s not weird.”
“Were your mom and dad married before?” Elizabeth sets her Mary Janes on my leg, I guess to stop them from dangling. “You said you only just met him.”
“You’re super judgmental, ya know that? Why the twenty questions?”
“I’m not judging! I’m only asking. Geez. If you think I’m judging, then that’s on you.”
“Cop’s daughter,” I grumble. “Cops are always trying to judge without saying they’re judging.
” I pause, because three-quarters of my heart wants to be a cop when I grow up.
The other quarter wants to draw, but Mom’s told me a million times, ‘art never pays the bills’.
“Does your dad ever call himself Walker?”
“What?” She scrunches her nose and giggles. “No. That would be weird.”
“Does he carry a gun every day? Even at home?”
“He takes it off at home.” Leaning forward, she plays with the buckles on her shoe, and because of her new angle, the heel digs into my thigh and hurts.
No way would I admit that, though. Men don’t admit to pain.
Men suck it up and shut up about it. “He has others around the house and stuff. Like, hidden in places he doesn’t think I know about.
But the one on his belt, he takes off when he walks into the house and hangs it up on the hat rack. ”
“The hat rack?” My lip curls back. “That’s not safe. How does he know you won’t accidentally hurt yourself?”
She scoffs. “Now who’s judging? And because if I hurt myself, he’ll beat me black and blue until I learn not to be so stupid. He told me when I was little to never touch his belt.” She shrugs. “I was warned, so if I touch it and blow my face off, then it’s my own damn fault.”
My eyes widen. That was a speech she’s said and heard a billion times in the past. My mom is always busy, always tired, always working, sometimes snappy and mean with her words, but she would never talk to me like that.
That cop I thought was cool twenty minutes ago is a straight up prick.
I take the ruler from her hands and toss it to the desk. “Wanna go for a walk?”
“You can’t do that!” Sour-sister number one pops to her feet and surges forward with her hands on her hips. “You can’t leave this room. Daddy said so.”
I scoff. “Your daddy can go fuck himself with a metal ruler. Now go sit back down and play with your dollies, little girl.”
Her eyes widen and flicker between me and Elizabeth. “She’s just the help!”
“And yet, she’s way cooler. I guess us poor kids have enough money to buy brains and some tact.
Now we’re gonna stick together the way rich folks do at stupid dinner parties.
Let’s go.” I take Elizabeth’s hand, pulling her off the desk and around to my back so she doesn’t have to look at the bitches.
“If my mom comes looking, tell her we went for a walk. She’ll know where to find me. ”
“You can’t leave!”
I stop and swing back around when the girl grabs my arm. She literally growls and bares her teeth.
“Stop me.” Our noses almost touch, and she backs up an inch when her eyes lock onto mine.
“Sit the fuck down and stay away from me. They say we’re family now, but they’re wrong.
You and your sister are spoiled brats, and I like to keep my connections classier than that.
Elizabeth is the only cool person I’ve met since stepping into this club; if I ever walk into a room and find you beating on her again, I’ll flatten you.
I don’t hit girls, but I have no problem taking out a bully.
” I flick her hand off hard enough that it yanks her shoulder and makes her cry. “Stay away from me.”
She slowly backs up until she bumps into her sister.
Holding her arm, her eyes fill with tears and force me to roll mine and drag Elizabeth through the door.
The hallway is empty, and voices fill the office my mom and I went into when we first got here.
I don’t go in there. Instead, I lead Elizabeth to the stairs and down.
“What is this place, anyway? It’s creepy.”
“Club.” She catches up and walks beside me rather than behind. Her legs are shorter than mine, so she has to work harder to keep up. “People come in here and dance every night. They… uh…” We reach the bottom step and stop. “They do naughty things here.”
“Naughty like what?” I continue walking when she looks away to hide the way her face has turned red.
“Like, they sometimes sell pills to people that make them dance faster.”
I frown. “Drugs?”
She shrugs. “My dad never calls them that, but I guess. They also wear guns and stuff…” She hesitates. “But apart from my dad, they’re not the police. So I don’t think they’re supposed to be wearing them.”
“Aren’t the police supposed to stop people from doing drugs and carrying guns? He wears that shiny badge, but he lets people do bad things?”
She flexes her fingers in my hand and hurries to keep up. “I don’t think he’s a very good policeman,” she murmurs. “I don’t think he follows the law like regular people.”
I push the front doors open and glance back toward the club when sunlight floods in and warms my jeans.
Nobody comes running for us, so I lead Elizabeth through and close it again at our backs.
“So your dad is like a vigilante police? A bit like Walker, the Texas Ranger ?” My voice is hopeful, but it drops again when she shakes her head.
“No. I think he’s bad police. He hurts people when he’s supposed to help them.
He arrests people that maybe didn’t do anything wrong.
Or,” she leans in a little closer and whispers, “if their skin isn’t the same color as ours.
But bad people like Uncle can do bad things, and he doesn’t get in trouble. ”
I slow my steps and yank Elizabeth closer until her shoulder touches my chest. “The army guy is bad? What do you mean?”
“I mean…” Her lips quiver. “My daddy will beat me to death if I snitch. It would be especially stupid to snitch about that man when I’m talking to his son.”
“I’m not loyal to him.” I pull her away from the club and toward my car. I don’t have the keys, and even if I did, I wouldn’t want to sit inside. Instead, I lead her to the back and slide down so we sit on the hard gravel and lean against the frame. “I don’t know the guy.”
“But you said he’s your dad. You said your mom and him used to be together.”
“That doesn’t mean anything. I’m eleven and a half, and I met him today for the first time ever. That means he ain’t loyal to me or my mom. That means I’m more loyal to you at this point. I promise not to snitch on you. I won’t be the reason your father hurts you.”
She watches me with those dirty green eyes and tries to find my lies. I think she and I live in a world of complete opposites. She’s fed and has nice shoes, but she knows bad people. I never get new shoes, but my mom is special. She’s kind, and doesn’t talk to bad people…
Until now.
“This club belongs to Hayes,” she whispers.
“Stella and Zoey’s dad. He’s the boss here, which is why they think they’re special, but Uncle is Hayes’ boss.
He’s the big boss that everyone is scared of.
He makes sure everyone is working how he wants them, and I think…
well…” She leans around the car to peek back at the club.
“They sell drugs and stuff. I don’t know what kind, I don’t know about that stuff.
But there was one time I touched this bag of pills Daddy brought home.
They were in a sandwich bag, like the kind I take to school sometimes. ”
“When?”
She shrugs. “When I was little. Like, year before last? I opened the bag, but I was only looking. I touched the pills.” She looks into my eyes.
“They were the size of M&M’s, but not colorful.
I wasn’t gonna take one or anything, I’m not stupid, but Daddy walked in and found me touching them, so I got into big trouble.
He beat me so bad,” her voice shakes. “He screamed so loud and sent me to my room. Next thing I knew, I woke up in the hospital.”
“What?” I shout. “In the hospital?”
Elizabeth jumps and scoots a few inches to her left to create space between us. Her head swings wildly to the left to peek back at the club. “Sheesh! Shut up, or you’ll get us both beat.”
“I’m sorry.” I grab her hand and tug her back.
I look around my side of the car, but the club doors remain closed.
The windows covered. The Addams Family, undisturbed.
“I’m sorry. You surprised me is all. Your own father beat you so bad you passed out and woke in a hospital? And CPS did nothing about it?”
“No, he didn’t beat me that bad,” she huffs.
“I mean, he made it so I couldn’t sit very well, but he didn’t put me in the hospital.
I didn’t really know what happened. I went to bed and cried about being in trouble.
I, uh…” Her cheeks go red. “I used to suck my thumb, okay? It’s a baby thing that I liked to do.
So I was sucking my thumb and trying not to cry, because he comes back and smacks me again if I cry too much, then I went to sleep. Woke up in the hospital.”
“I mean… shit.” I blow out a breath. “I don’t understand.”
She swallows and looks down into her lap. “I guess maybe I had drugs on my fingers. They said I’d overdosed, and they had to give me shots to make it all better.”
Holy shit. “You OD’d, and you were only, what, six?”
She lifts her nose in the air the same way the sour-sisters do. “I was seven and a quarter, thank you very much.”
“And CPS didn’t take you away?”