“You haven’t seen your dad since you were eighteen?”
“Nope, and I don’t plan to.”
“What about your mom?”
“She made her choices, and I wasn’t included in them.” Joe’s tone had turned icy.
Lexi wasn’t sure what to say. She had grown up in a stable household with her dad working steadily, allowing her mom to stay home. It would have been an idyllic childhood except for her brother Lonnie, who caused their parents untold grief and worry. He was in and out of detention at school, ran around with a bad crowd, stole cars, got into drugs, then the coup de gras was when he was sentenced to the state pen. Lexi had been eighteen at the time, and her parents had not let her attend his sentencing or the trial, afraid for her safety and exposure to nefarious people.
“I haven’t seen my brother in years.”
“Where is he?” Joe asked.
“State pen in Huntsville, north of Houston. My mom sees him every once in a while.”
“How long is he in for?”
“Fifty years or something like that.”
“I’m sorry to hear about his troubles.”
“Thanks. It was his own fault. He’s always had a problem with authority. Let’s change the subject.”
“How’s your ankle?” Joe asked. “Do you mind if I look at it?”
“Be my guest.”
A baseball size pocket of fluid had formed around her ankle. Joe gently palpated the area, feeling for broken bones. “Does this hurt?”
“You’ll never be a foot masseuse.” Lexi was unaware she was stiff-arming the chair and gritting her teeth.
“It’s obvious you’re in pain.”
“To tell you the truth, I’ve felt better.”
“I believe you have a doozy of a sprain.”
“Is that your professional opinion?”
“Yes, it’s a doozy. In case you didn’t know, it’s a medical term.”
Lexi cracked a smile.
“The best thing for you to do is to keep it elevated and put ice on it. Also, it would be helpful to wrap it tightly. Compression will help keep it from swelling. I’ll scout for some ice, although I’m not sure what I can do about a compression bandage. I’ll come up with something.”
“Surely triage has been set up somewhere,” Lexi said.
“It has. Unfortunately, it’s been mobbed by half the stadium so we’re better off here. Sit tight for a few minutes, and I’ll be back. Is there anything else you need?”
“A hamburger and French fries would be great.”
Joe tapped the side of his face, thinking. “Will a bag of potato chips do?”
“Absolutely. And I’d appreciate a Coke over ice.”
“Stay here,” Joe said, glancing over his shoulder as he walked away.
“I’m not going anywhere with this ankle.”
Lexi tracked Joe until he disappeared, and for the first time since she had been knocked unconscious, she was able to comprehend the magnitude of their situation. From what she knew, grocery store shelves would be empty by the end of the third day, even the unpopular foods. She had no idea where her mother was, or if she had survived. She recalled her mother had gone to the sky booth to snack on the hors d’oeuvres. When Joe returned, she’d ask him for his advice or his willingness to find her mother.
Several minutes passed without any sign of Joe returning. Certainly, it couldn’t take him long to find ice and a drink.
The solitude unnerved Lexi because she had become accustomed to being surrounded by an entourage of people, albeit reluctantly. When she first started singing in clubs, it was on a dare by her best friend. Not one to back down from a dare, Lexi had called the nearest club, talked her way into singing, and the rest was history.
“Hey, pretty lady,” a male voice called out.
Two men sauntered towards Lexi, and from their posture and wicked appearance, they were up to no good.
Lexi pretended not to hear them.
Undeterred, they approached and one of the men poked Lexi in the arm. He said, “I know you. Ain’t you a country singer?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Normally Lexi greeted her fans, giving them the courtesy of a few friendly words, sometimes an autograph or a photo, but these two didn’t appear to be fans. They had the appearance of men who took advantage of situations to line their own pockets at the expense of others, like stealing from the elderly or kidnapping someone’s pet to be sold as bait for dog fighting. They certainly weren’t here for the game, more like they had made a beeline to the stadium from a nearby neighborhood for their own nefarious purposes.
“Hey, I’m talkin’ to you.”
“Can I help you?” Lexi asked.
He was the one who looked like he’d steal dogs. Provoking these men wasn’t the best idea, so better to keep it civil.
“Yeah,” dog-stealing man grinned. “You can help that ring right off your finger.”
“It’s a fake. It’s worthless. If it’s money you want, there’s a lot of bodies around here with wallets full of money.” Lexi scanned the area, wishing Joe would come back.
“I ain’t touchin’ no dead body. Might have germs or something.”
The man’s friend guzzled the last of his beer. He tossed the can aside and wiped his hand across his mouth. His eyes were glassy, his clothes disheveled, hair greasy, his beard unkempt, and he made eyes at Lexi like he was undressing her. He obviously abused drugs.
Lexi thought fast because her options were limited. If she could have run, she would have. To stall for time, she said, “If you wait a bit, my manager will be right back and he can give you money.”
“How much money?” drug guy asked. He closed the space between him and Lexi, standing close to her.
Lexi recoiled from his stench. “He’s got enough for you to buy whatever
