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I wanted to defend Frankie but fatigue had weakened my usual resolve. “He’s in jail again. He wants me to sell my car to get him out.”
“Sell your car? You are not going to do that,” Roxy said adamantly. “Girl, that boy needs to learn that he can’t just do what he pleases without consequences. It’s called growing up. I know all about no-good family members. Trust me, they’ll use you up until you’ve got nothing left. And then, they’ll steal your identity and ruin what good credit you’ve got left!”
Roxy was talking about her sister, Ruela. And yeah, Ruela had done all those things.
But Frankie wasn’t like Ruela.
At least I hoped he wasn’t.
“I’m not going to sell my car,” I told Roxy, leaving out the part where I’d bartered something important to me to a crooked cop. “But I’m still worried about him.”
Relieved that I wasn’t going to bail Frankie out, Roxy said, “It’ll be good for him. Let him sweat it out, get a taste of what prison life is like. Maybe it’ll scare him straight for once.”
“The last time he was in, he got beat up.”
“Probably needed it.”
I leveled a look at Roxy. “He was fending off a rapist.”
“Incarceration sucks,” Roxy said with a shrug. “It ain’t supposed to be Margaritaville. Maybe if prison and jail life was less cushy, there’d be less crime. Ever think of that?”
There was no arguing with Roxy tonight. She was feeling her oats. And I didn’t blame Roxy for her opinion. We all came to different ideas about things through our experiences.
But it wasn’t fun knowing that people were silently judging you for your love of another who wasn’t easy to love.
“Let me ask you something…what’s he done for you lately?” Roxy asked, really digging in. “What has he done for you but drag you through the mud alongside with him? As far as I can tell, that boy can exit outta your life and you’ll be nothing but better for it. Harsh truth, baby girl, but truth the same.”
Baby girl.
That’s what Jameson called me.
And the way it’d rolled off his tongue with that sexy growl.
Oh man. I never thought such a thing could be so hot.
I suppressed a shiver at the inappropriate memory.
Fuck Jameson. He wasn’t a catch.
I wasn’t going to allow a man like Jameson to weasel his way into my life under any pretense.
Not if I wanted to free my life from the constant never-ending drama and chaos that seemed to be part of the tapestry.
“How do you deal with something that you had to do because you didn’t have a choice?” I asked.
Roxy frowned. “What happened?”
Did I want to share with Roxy the details of what’d happened between me and Jameson?
It could ruin him.
What did I care?
“Never mind, it’s nothing,” I said quickly, wishing I’d remained silent. I wasn’t ready to talk about what’d happened, not because I wanted to protect Jameson but because I wasn’t ready for anyone else to see my private shame. “I’m just PMSing.”
Roxy smiled and then yawned as she glanced at the clock. “God, I’m glad this shift is about over. My dogs are barking tonight. You cleaning the walk-in?”
“Yeah, I’ll do it if you can wipe down the tables and refill the salt and pepper.”
“That’s a deal,” Roxy said, winking, before returning to the floor.
Roxy was like the older sister I never had. She was about eight years older than me and seemed as if she’d lived a hundred lives compared to my one.
Some of those years had been hard, too.
Roxy wasn’t shy about sharing her struggle. I think Roxy liked to think that she was helping others avoid the same fate by sharing. She also wasn’t shy about telling someone when she thought they were being stupid.
And Roxy had strong feelings about Frankie.
Didn’t everybody?
It was hard being the sister of someone universally believed to be a loser.
No one knew Frankie like I did.
If he could just get off the drugs and out of that lifestyle…maybe I’d get my brother back.
The next hour dragged by but we finally were able to close up, clean up, and ditch the diner.
Usually, I gave Roxy a ride to her apartment but tonight she was being picked up by her new boyfriend, Rick.
Roxy had designs on that one. She’d jokingly said that he was The One because Roxy and Ricky had a nice ring to it and would look cute on a wedding invitation.
I kept my dubious opinion to myself on that score. Rick didn’t seem like much of a catch to me.
For all her talk, Roxy seemed stuck in her own patterns, too.
Her last boyfriend had beaten her so badly, she’d been hospitalized.
So far Rick hadn’t touched her but he seemed…controlling, which to me, was a bad sign.
However, there wasn’t much I could do about Roxy’s problems when I couldn’t solve my own.
I locked up the diner and headed for my car. It was brisk enough to pop goosebumps along my skin as I walked but Los Angeles in the winter was still pretty mild.
I’d just started to push my key into the lock when I yelped as my head was wrenched painfully back as fingers dug into my scalp.
“Someone’s not so uppity now, is she?” a familiar voice at my ear taunted.
I stiffened, trying not to panic. “Get your hands off me,” I demanded, gritting my teeth against the pain in my scalp as he tightened his grip.
“Oh, I don’t think so, sweetheart. You and me are going to have a little fun after-hours,” he said, dragging me away from the parking lot and toward the scraggly bushes hidden in the shadows. “You see, I was actually trying to be nice but you had to go and be a bitch about it so it’s up to me to teach you a lesson.”
“Fuck you,” I spat, drawing a deep breath to scream my head off but he anticipated my move and covered my mouth and nose, nearly cutting off my air supply.
I struggled frantically, needing to breathe. He released me long enough to spin me around but before I could react, his fist crashed into my face, stunning me as the world began to dim.
Blood gushed from my nose and busted lip, the taste of copper strong in my mouth as I struggled not to gag.
I knew if I passed out, I was done for.
But my head was throbbing viciously and I couldn’t stop the edges around my vision from clouding.
He was fumbling with my top, ripping at the ties in the front but the thing about cheap polyester
was that it was remarkably tough.
I would’ve laughed but I was fading fast. Maybe being unconscious was the better choice anyway.
I sure as hell didn’t want to be awake for what was to come.
But then a surge of rage gave me an shot of adrenalin and I kicked at my attacker, landing a good one to his nuts.
He went down with a grunt but he didn’t stay down and I was too disoriented to do much more.
He retaliated with a hard kick to my stomach with his booted foot and I couldn’t breathe.
Another kick like that and I would die.
The pain was too much.
I heard him unbuckle his pants, calling me all sorts of names as he descended on me, the weight of his body pressing me into the dirt as he shoved my skirt up.
Pebbles dug into my back. The brisk air bit at my skin. A few stars stared dispassionately down at me through the smog blanket smothering Southern California.
Tears dripped from the corners of my eyes but I made no sound.
Suddenly, he was gone.
My right eye was swelling fast but I managed to force my eyes open.
College Boy was getting the shit kicked out of him.
By whom, I didn’t care.
Actually, I didn’t much care about anything at that moment because I was checking out.
See you on the other side, compadre.
Jameson
I nearly killed that kid.
It took everything in me to rein it in but the rage fueling my muscles was like fire to an oil spill, nothing abated the destruction.
But Ivy needed a hospital and that was probably that shit’s only saving grace.
I called it in, cuffed the kid and left him bleeding on the ground while I remained by Ivy until the ambulance arrived.
Rapists were fuckers. I had no sympathy for them.
And if Ivy hadn’t needed immediate attention, I probably would’ve stepped further over the line.
But that seemed to be my thing these days.
What if I hadn’t arrived in time? What if I’d been five minutes later?
What if I’d decided to talk to Ivy tomorrow about the case?
The reality was staring me in the face. She would’ve died.
