“It’s not that.”
“Then what in the world is it?”
Scrubbing my hands down my face, I looked out the window above the sink, avoiding her scrutinizing gaze. “She’s in a bad situation,” I confessed, gut sinking to the floor. “And I don’t know how to get her out of it.”
Perking right up, her back snapped straight. “What kind of situation?”
I turned my head; our eyes met. “The kind that could get her killed if I don’t save her.”
The Crazy Old Biddy stood so quickly her chair skittered backward, slamming into the backdoor. “Well, shitfire! That can’t happen. You just tell me whether I need to grab my pistol or my shotgun. Then we’ll go hop in my car and—”
“It’s not that easy,” I interrupted. “There are more people than just her involved, and if I misstep or fuck up the least little bit, it could lead to one or all of them dying.”
I’d never met Carmen’s pimp, hell, I didn’t even know his name, but I knew all about predators thanks to my father, and I was more than aware of the sick threats they often lorded over their prey to keep them complicit.
It wouldn’t have surprised me if her pimp threatened to kill the girls, along with Faye and her kid, if any of them stepped out of line. Because of that, attempting an escape was a heavy risk to take.
“Tell me, James,” Grandmama said, face tight with worry. “Tell me all about it, ’cause I need to know before my ol’ ticker sputters out on account of how doggone mad I am.”
Knowing full well she wouldn’t judge Carmen for a thing that was happening in her life, I nodded and sat my mug down. “She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
A smile tugged at her lips.
“But she’s got a drug problem.” I paused as pain gripped me, radiating through each of my limbs. “And I’m ninety-nine percent sure she’s a trafficking victim.”
Grandmama’s hands flew to her mouth. “Oh that poor baby.” Tears formed in her faded eyes as she shook her head. “That poor, poor baby.” Fingers trembling, she slammed her palm down onto the table, sending a cracking sound echoing through the room. “We’ve gotta get her out!”
I nodded. “I know, but that’s not all of it.” Robbing her of the chance to ask what I meant, I continued. “There are two girls, both of them teenagers, who she takes care of. They aren’t hers by birth, but she treats them like they’re her daughters.”
Shoulders shaking, she fisted her arthritic hands, turning her knuckles white. “Tell me those babies aren’t street ladies—”
“They are.”
Her tears fell, causing the red blush painted on her wrinkled cheeks to streak. “No, no, no,” she cried, displaying a vulnerability she rarely let others glimpse. “Dear Lord, we’ve gotta help ‘em, ’cause that ain’t right. Not a single bit of it.”
“I’m going to help them.” One way or another, I would. “I just have to get my woman—my woman?—to trust me. But after the other night, I’m not sure how to go about doing that.”
“You do something to make her not trust you?” She shot me one hell of a glare when I nodded. “Yeah? And what did ya do, ya big dummy?”
“I told her the truth,” I replied, shifting in my seat. “About me. About what I did to Hendrix. After that, I’m not really sure where to go from here.”
Mind spinning, Grandmama paced. Back and forth she hobbled, from one end of my galley-style kitchen to the other. “I don’t think there’s much you can do,” she said, sending momentary panic careening through my tight chest. “Nothing ‘cept be relentless in showing her that you’re not the same bastard of a man you were all them years ago.”
“You think I should go after her?”
She stopped moving, eyes finding mine. “I think you should glue your dadgummed hip to hers until she sees what you’re gonna damned well fight to show her, which is that she can trust you.”
“What if I can’t convince her?”
“You will,” she said, dipping her chin down.
“Yeah?” I wasn’t so sure. “And how do you know that?”
“‘Cause you told her the truth, even when it was a whole lot ugly. And James, trust me, a woman like her, who’s been through some really awful stuff, well, that’s gonna mean something to her, even if she doesn’t realize it right away.”
“So you think I should keep pursuing her?”
Hands finding her hips once again, she pursed her fuchsia-painted lips. “If you don’t get your biteable tush out of that rickety old chair and go do as I said, I’m gonna shove my slipper-covered foot so far up your scrumptious behind that you’ll be spitting out my toenails for the next month.”
With no need to be told twice, I stood and headed for the front door without hesitating. “Lock the door when you leave, Crazy Old Biddy.” Knowing I had the biggest badass in the tri-county area now in my corner, I felt a hundred pounds lighter. “And stay out of my underwear drawer!”
“I’m not making any promises!” I chuckled, knowing she’d go riffling through every closet and drawer I owned before she left. “Hey, Superman, wait!”
Coming to an immediate stop in the foyer, I glanced at her over my shoulder. “Yeah?”
“You remember what I said, ya hear.” Anxiously wringing a dishtowel she’d picked up from the table in her hands, she slung it over her shoulder. “Give her time, and she’ll eventually give you her trust.”
I was doubtful.
But like always, Grandmama was right.
Ten
Carmen
Withdrawal was killing me.
Four days had passed since El Diablo stabbed a smack-filled needle into my arm, forcibly shooting me up with the very thing my body and brain craved, but that my heart and soul detested.
Since then, I’d gotten dope sick.
Badly so.
Taking refuge on the disgusting trap house bathroom floor, I’d spent my every waking moment alternating between crying and screaming in nearly unbearable pain as my body sweated,
