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“No.” I caught her gaze in the rearview mirror. “Not technically.” The rules of survival in Southside were ones she would need to learn, and quickly. So I gave her the first one. “He was paying for the privilege of running his business in La Rasa Prima territory.”
Her brow furrowed. “I don’t understand.”
“La Rasa Prima is a local Latino gang. That shop,” I pointed with my chin, “is on a corner that belongs to them.” When the light turned green, I pressed on the gas and pointed to the gang’s name spray-painted on a vacant building as we passed it. “Every business operating inside La Rasa territory pays something.”
“Do you pay La Rasa Prima for Footit’s Place?” she asked.
“Not them.” That was a debt I owed Martin, one I would never stop paying. Thinking about Ella, I swallowed hard. “I pay. I continually pay. But my protection comes from a different source. In Southside, everyone pays in one way or another for the privilege of simply breathing air.”
The interior of the vehicle went silent again. Rachel was probably mulling over things she already knew. Claire was probably in shock.
Gunfire popped. Trash was piled in drifts on the sidewalk. Dilapidated buildings led to more dilapidated buildings. Southside didn’t have pretty scenery or houses with views of the lake.
I continued driving, feeling guilty for taking my sister and niece farther and farther away from what they knew. Well, what Claire knew. Rachel was as familiar with the sights and sounds of Southside as I was. But I could tell that the familiarity didn’t bring her comfort.
Reaching across the console, I squeezed Rachel’s hand. Her skin was ice cold.
“It’ll be okay,” I said, glancing at her.
She nodded, but we both knew those were just words.
“We have each other. We’re together.” I flicked on the blinker and turned into the parking lot for my apartment. “Here we are. It’s not much,” I hastily added, feeling their despair. “But it’s safer than most apartments around here, and there’s a bus stop for Southside High right there.” I pointed to the Plexiglas surround at the corner.
“It’s fine, Addy.” Rachel removed her seat belt and swiveled to look at Claire. “We’re grateful. Right, honey?”
“Yes, Mother,” Claire said dutifully, but I could tell she was frightened. She jolted in her seat as more shots split the despair-filled air.
“That gunfire is far away.” I glanced at Claire in the rearview mirror. “Listen the next time you hear some more go off. If there’s shouting, and it sounds closer, that’s when you need to worry. Okay?”
“Okay, Aunt Addy.”
“Right.” I unfastened my seat belt, trying to inject enthusiasm into my voice. “Let’s get you guys situated. We’re staying in tonight, and I want to make sure you’re comfortable. I’m making dinner. I’m not that great a cook, but I make a mean burger.”
“A burger sounds great,” Rachel said as her stomach grumbled.
I worried about her. Besides the obvious emotional devastation, she was thinner than I remembered her ever being. I didn’t know how much of her weight loss was due to their financial situation and how much was due to grief.
I could remedy the one, although I had no cure for the other.
But I had experience with loss. I planned to do for Rachel what I did for myself—keep her busy working with me at the bar. Being busy didn’t make the pain go away, but at least it was swimming, not drowning.
And I would love her. I would lavish love on Rachel and Claire.
But loving them might be more of a cure for me than it would be for them.
• • •
Dinner that night was a somber affair with little talking by Rachel or Claire, but for me it was brighter than any dinner I’d ever had in my apartment. This time, I didn’t eat alone.
“I’ll get the dishes.” Standing, I grabbed my plate and reached for Rachel’s. She’d eaten everything—burger, dill pickle, and chips. Claire had only taken a couple of bites of her burger.
Rachel stood. “I’ll help you. Are you finished, honey?” she asked her daughter.
“Yeah.” Claire pushed her plate away.
“You hardly ate anything.” Rachel shook her head. “Your aunt went to a lot of trouble.”
“It’s not any trouble. I was glad to do it.” Glancing around us, I winced. “I’m sorry my apartment is what it is, and I hate the circumstances that brought you here.” Tears pricked my eyes. “But I love you both and want you to know you’re welcome. More than welcome, really. I’m looking forward to being a part of your everyday life.”
