He calls after me, “Call me Daddy. And call me anytime.”
My stomach plummets and I feel like I’m going to implode. I’m jangling inside as we get in the car.
Mimi tells me, “Christian’s always nice to me,” looking back over her seat as I head out into the traffic. In the mirror I see him watching us go and I feel like it’s raining inside me.
“That asshole.”
My sister’s voice on the phone competes with loud, hard shouts and clattering echoes. “He knows there’s a restraining order. He was in the damn court room.”
“It doesn’t mean anything to him, Tandi,” I can’t say a thing to calm my sister down. Not where she is. Especially not on the phone. I try to change the subject, or at least shift it a little.
“You should have seen the guy, Tandi. I’m telling you, your panties would have melted right off. Mine would have they hadn’t been stuck to me and bunched up, drenched. I had to change the moment I got home.”
“He sounds like a dish. You give him your number?”
A hollow laugh broke out of me, “A guy like him? I don’t think he needs the number for a dumpling like me.”
“Sis, you are way, way too hard on yourself. First off, you ain’t no dumpling. You may have some handfuls of dough, but they’re all in places that the guys will kill for. Second, any guy that doesn’t see the gold in your smile and in your heart, well he would have to be what doctors call an idiot.”
I’m laughing. Mimi looks up from her book, smiling.
I tell Tandi, “It just happened again, you know. Mimi’s little phone beeped with a text or a PM or whatever, she just silenced it and went back to her book. All the other kids, their phone lights up, it’s like somebody pulled their string and they dance to it. Even at her age, Mimi knows what she’s about.”
“Jessica, I can never repay you for taking care of her like you do. I swear, if it weren’t for you.”
“Sis, don’t. You know that I love her almost as much as you do.”
“But your studies…”
“I’ll be able to go back to them,” I try to reassure her. Sound like I believe it. “There will be time. Of all the things you need to worry about, you do not need to be worrying about me.”
Mimi is still watching me. Then, still smiling, she goes back to her book.
When I say, “I’ve told her I’ll bring her to see you on the weekend,” she looks back up quickly and she kicks her legs as her smile widens.
“Sis,” Tandi’s voice is tight, tense. “You know I don’t want her to see me in here.”
“She’s stronger than you think, Tandi. And anyway, I want to see you. I hate to think of you alone in there.” Really, I can’t imagine how it must be for her. “That bastard.”
“In his twisted mind, it’s a payback for the restraining order.”
I’m not letting her off the track. I tell her, “She needs you. I think you need her, too. And anyway, I want to see you. I’m bringing her. Mimi needs her mom.”
“Honey, I know she does but I can’t be any kind of a mom to her in here. I don’t want her to come here and feel part of all this.”
“You know it’s not your fault that you’re in there.”
“You know what, Jessica, it pretty much is. I didn’t do the thing that I’m in here for, but I did choose the ass who did it and fitted me up with it.”
“If you hadn’t chosen him, you wouldn’t have Mimi. Anyway. We’re both coming to visit on the weekend. Get your hair done.”
Finally I hear a trace of a laugh from her. My heart aches.
She’s about to run out of time for her call. She says, “Well, it’s not like I’m going anywhere. I’ll pencil you in on my calendar.”
When we hang up, I wish I had a way to call him. Christian. I wish it so hard, it knots in my stomach.
Chapter 3 Christian
Through the whole of my shift at Chug-a-Lug, girls come up to the bar, leaning on their elbows, putting their chins on the palms and fluttering their eyelids. Like always. Asking about certain drinks or cocktails. They’re nice enough and they mostly tip well.
When I started here, when girls came on to me like that, I told them I wasn’t interested. The owner of the bar let me know that I didn’t need to do that. It ‘Takes away their hope.’ He said it wouldn’t be good for business. I took that to mean it wouldn’t be good for me holding my job.
My biker buddy Crane keeps a corner of the bar. Says he likes the beer here, but I know he’s got my back, too. He raises his beer to me. Gravelly voiced he says, “Christian, bro, you’re a fucking hero in my book.”
It’s a quiet night, and I’m glad of it. Behind the bar, I keep myself busy, polishing glasses.
“I mean it, man.” Crane says, “background like yours, working behind a bar. You are a fucking saint, man.”
Nothing could be farther from the truth. But it means something, him saying it. We served together. Crane’s one of the bad guys who’s a good guy. Or maybe a good guy who moonlights as a bad guy.
“Just being in a bar is not such a problem for me,” I tell him. “Some guys can do it, for others, it’s tough. I’m not tempted
