Page 546 of Devil’s Disciples

“Still have that butter you made?”

She grinned and waved toward the kitchen. “I never go without it.”

Instead of going to the kitchen, Bama crossed the living room and gave her a quick hug. Together, they walked into the kitchen. Of the seven days that my father had been in jail, Bama had stopped by each of them.

As had Crip, Peyton, Pee Bee, Tegan, Cash, Kimberly, Goose, and Ally. Baker stopped by a few times, too, but as far as I could remember, Tito hadn’t.

While my mother and Bama got coffee, I peered out the window, wondering what the men were talking about.

I tried to read their lips, but it seemed that Reno said he was celibate and that he hated sports. It seemed Tito hated sports, too and he’d been the recent victim of a looter.

Reno seemed elated with the looter news. He gave Tito a huge hug and a pat on the back.

When he came back inside, he kissed me deeply. It was awfully nice, but it didn’t do for me what his kisses normally did.

I yearned for the day that the emotions returned in full force. The day that I could once again be swept off my feet each time our lips met. When his simple touch could cause me to go weak-kneed, and when I could fall asleep in his arms at night.

I glanced at the mound of boxes.

It would come soon enough, I decided.

Reno stepped into the kitchen.

“Tito done with ya?” Bama asked.

“Yep.”

Bama slapped him on the back. “He’s a good kid, huh?”

“His heart’s in the right place, that’s for sure,” Reno said.

Bama poked the remainder of his bread in his mouth, swallowed it, and gulped down his coffee.

“Hate to eat and run Miss Gina.” He gave her a hug. “But I’m going to eat and run.”

“See you tomorrow?”

“Barring any catastrophes,” he said with a smile.

He hugged me on the way out, joined his friends, and they rode away.

Although I tried to pry the information from Reno, he refused to tell me why the men stopped by. He did, however, share with me that it had nothing to do with a looter, and that he wasn’t complaining of being celibate.

I hoped, at least, that the second claim was true.

Because we couldn’t have sex in my mother’s home, and I was too scared to leave.

204

Reno

We sat around the table, eating pork tamales smothered with red sauce. When I was stuffed, I pushed myself away from the table.

“I can’t take another bite.”

“Have one more,” Carma’s mother said. “They’ll go to waste.”

“They won’t go to waste,” I insisted. “You’ve got a refrigerator.”