'Who's that, Momma?' said Shay.
'Nobody,' said Sherelle. 'You come along.'
The big man, heavy and tall, wearing khakis and a loose silk shirt, stayed behind. He wore a crucifix outside his shirt. He stood on the sidewalk under a street lamp, staring at Lorenzo, waiting for his girlfriend and her daughter to get inside their place.
'I don't want no trouble,' said Lorenzo.
'Ain't gonna be none,' said the man.
'I'm her father.'
'I know who you are.'
Lorenzo shifted his feet. 'I just want to talk to her.'
'That's not gonna happen,' said the man. 'You already made your choice. You care about Shay, you got to let her be.'
Lorenzo did not challenge the man or what he said.
'Go home,' said the man, his eyes softening. 'Your little girl is loved; you don't need to worry about that. She gonna be all right.'
Lorenzo walked back to his car. He sat behind the wheel and watched the hulking silhouette of the man cross the grounds and head toward Sherelle's apartment. Time was, he would have stepped to that man for being so bold. But Lorenzo had come to a point in his life, he was old enough to know, and admit to himself, that the man was right.
Lorenzo started his car.
CHAPTER 12
Rachel Lopez had bathed, and the water in the tub, drawn very hot, was now warm. The candles she had set on the tub ledges were lit and were the sole source of illumination in the room. Beside one of the candles was a goblet of California merlot. It was her third glass.
Rachel's shadow danced on the bathroom wall. Freddy Fender sang 'The Wild Side of Life' in Spanish from a portable stereo she had placed on the floor. Rachel sat naked on the edge of the tub, one foot on the tiled floor, one up on a step stool she had placed nearby. An electric fan whirred under the music, blowing air on her knees, thighs, fingers, and cleanly shaved sex.
She closed her eyes. In the darkness, pictures ran through her mind. Briefly, the man in her head was the handsome construction boss Ramos. Then he was a stranger beneath her.
The cool of the porcelain beneath her buttocks, spread so that the surface touched her anus, was pleasant. The ligaments and veins inside her filled with blood, and she felt a wash rush forth. She caught her breath and her muscles contracted violently. Her head pitched forward and she was done.
Rachel cleaned herself with a warm wet washcloth. She put on a dark red lacy brassiere and then slipped into thong panties that matched. In the mirror, with the light of the bathroom now switched on, she applied eye shadow, eyeliner, and lipstick, all in deep colors. She bought the inexpensive brands, available at any drugstore, because she found their colors more dramatic. She unscrewed the cap of her night perfume, which was strong but not flowery, and shook some onto her fingers. She lightly rubbed her fingers on the muscles high inside her thighs, reached around and touched the very base of her back and the nape of her neck, and rubbed the remainder between her breasts. Finally she ran her perfumed fingers through her hair. She stepped back and looked in the mirror. The brown nipples of her small hard breasts showed through the lace of the bra. She was aroused, not by the sight of her own body, but by the preparation itself.
Rachel dressed in a black leather skirt that accentuated her hips and womanly ass. She wore no stockings; her shapely bare legs were already brown. She put on a red shirt and unbuttoned it so that the front clasp of her bra showed. She put on medium-heeled black pumps. She hung a necklace on her chest and let its silver pendant fall on the upcurve of her left breast. She brushed out her black hair.
Rachel had a fourth glass of wine, gathered up her purse and cigarettes, and left the apartment. She drove downtown.
The BMW had sped down to Park View ahead of the Escalade. It now faced west and idled in the middle of Otis Place between rows of parked cars. Through the windshield, Melvin Lee and Rico Miller waited and watched.
'Where they at?' said Miller.
'They gonna be along.'
As if Lee had willed it, the Escalade turned off Georgia and started up Otis.
'What I tell you?' said Lee, a barely detectable catch in his voice.
The Escalade did not slow down as it approached them.
'We ain't got nothin' to back us,' said Miller. He was not frightened, but stating a fact.
'We ain't gonna
By giving this strong response, Lee hoped to distract Miller from noticing the lack of confidence on his face. Lee had always been cocky in his youth. That natural, youthful swagger, along with an easy access to guns, had fueled his reckless courage. Age, and the experience of incarceration, had humbled him. Now, under supervision, he could not risk being around any kind of firearm. He felt vulnerable and defenseless without one, like in those dreams he had where he was walking naked among his enemies on his own streets. But Deacon had told him to go out and send a message, and that's what he was going to do. And then there was Rico. He had to be hard around the kid.
The Cadillac came up on them and braked just a few feet from their grille. The headlights of the Caddy, on a
