Chapter 34 Tigerlily
Chapter Thirty-Four: Tigerlily
The hold music loops for the third time.
Some generic instrumental that’s supposed to be calming but instead makes my anxiety spike with every repetitive chord. I’m sitting on the edge of the guest bed—my bed now, I guess—with the phone pressed so hard against my ear it hurts.
Finally, a click.
“Thank you for holding. This is Margaret speaking.”
“Hi,” I say quickly. “I’m calling about my sister. Zinnia Lopez. She was taken into custody a few days ago.”
“And you are?”
“Her sister. Tigerlily Lopez.”
I hear typing. Clicking. More typing.
“I see her file here. And you’re listed as... let me see... over eighteen, correct?”
“Yes. I’m twenty.”
“Okay. And you’re inquiring about placement?”
“Yeah. I want to know if she’s okay. Where she is. If she can live with me.”
More typing. The sound makes me want to curl into a ball.
“She’s currently in a temporary foster placement. I can’t give you specific location details for privacy and safety reasons, but I can tell you she’s in a home in the Los Angeles area.”
My chest tightens. “Is she okay?”
“According to the notes from her caseworker, she’s adjusting. She’s been asking about you.”
I wipe away my tears.
“Can I see her?”
“Are you interested in becoming her guardian?”
“Yes. Absolutely.”
“Okay. There’s a process for that. You’ll need to attend a hearing, provide documentation, undergo a home study. Given your age and the circumstances, there will be additional requirements.”
“Like what?”
“Proof of stable income. Proof of adequate housing. Character references. A background check. It typically takes several weeks to process.”
My gut sinks. Several weeks?
Zinnia’s been gone for days and it already feels like forever.
“What if I don’t have a job? I’m in college. What if––can I still see her?”
“Supervised visits can potentially be arranged but given that the perpetrator is your stepfather and you were also a victim in the incident, we’ll need to ensure the visits are appropriate and safe for the minor.”
Perpetrator. Victim. Minor.
She’s talking about my family like we’re a case file.
“So when can I see her?”
“I’ll make a note for her caseworker to reach out to you within the next few business days to discuss visitation options.”
“Few business days? That’ll be next week!”
“I understand your frustration, Miss Lopez. But we have protocols we need to follow to ensure the child’s safety.”
“I’m her sister. I would never—”
“I’m not suggesting you would. But these are the procedures we follow for all cases. Her caseworker will be in touch soon.”
“Please,” I whisper. My voice breaks. “Please just tell her I love her. Tell her I’m trying. Tell her I’m so sorry. I’m going to try my hardest.”
Silence on the other end for a moment. “I’ll make sure that message gets to her caseworker.”
“Thank you.”
“Is there anything else I can help you with today?”
“No. Thank you.”
I hang up before she can say anything else.
I sit there staring at the phone in my hand. At the black screen reflecting my face back at me—pale, hollow-eyed, broken.
Zinnia’s asking about me.
She’s in a stranger’s house asking about me and I can’t do anything about it.
Several weeks.
Background checks. Home studies. Hearings.
I don’t have a stable income. I don’t have adequate housing. I don’t even have my own room—I’m staying in Jax’s guest bedroom because I have nowhere else to go.
How am I supposed to prove I can take care of her when I can’t even take care of myself?
A knock on the door startles me.
“Come in,” I say. My voice sounds hollow.
Jax opens the door slowly and stays in the doorway, observing me from a distance like he’s not sure if I want him closer or if I need space.
I don’t know which one I want either.
But I’m glad he’s here. Glad all three of them are here. Without them, I don’t know where I’d be right now. Would I be back at that house, about to be evicted? Where would I go?
A sinking feeling enters my mind the second I remember my dad was paying for my college tuition.
“What did they say?” he asks quietly, bringing me back to reality.
I take a breath. “She’s in a foster home somewhere in LA. They won’t tell me where. I can’t see her yet. There are protocols. Procedures. I have to prove I can take care of her before they’ll even consider letting me have her back.”
“What do you need to prove?”
“Stable income. Adequate housing. Character references. A background check. A house inspection where someone comes and inspects where I live to make sure it’s safe for her.” I frown. “I don’t have any of that.”
“You have housing.”
“I’m staying in your guest room, Jax. This is charity.”
“It’s not charity.”
“Then what is it?”
He doesn’t answer. Just looks at me with those intense eyes that see too much.
I wipe my face with my good hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“Don’t apologize.”
Tears fall from my eyes as I say, “I just feel like everything’s my fault. If I had just listened to him. Do you think he knew about Barnes instead, I enjoy his tongue, his fingers, and the way his eyes stare into mine with a new hunger.
He removes his other hand, and I think he’s jerking himself off, but I’m too busy in my own pleasure to see what he’s doing under the edge of the bed.
“Jax,” I moan.
He doesn’t stop.
I nod, watching him suck on my clit. His tongue is working magic on me.
“Please,” I cry.
He starts fingering me faster, and I fall back on the bed. It takes two more pumps until I’m seeing stars behind my eyes. My back arches, my body jerks, and I start to sing as my body feels the most alive it’s ever felt.