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“I will never have enough to support her, João.” She collapsed at the kitchen table and shook her head, tears in her eyes. “The money isn’t good enough. Ana will get so sick, and … I’m so done with this life.”
My chest tightened, and I sat beside her and pulled her close. “Mama, don’t say that.”
“It’s true, João.”
“Quit your job, then. I’ll support us.”
“With what?” Mom asked, staring up at me and shaking her head. “Where do you get your money? How do you get the pills for Ana? If it’s legal, then fine. But if it’s not, João, then you need to quit it right now.”
I pressed my lips together. Selling pot and beating the Redwood rich to a pulp weren’t technically legal, and Mom knew it. As long as I got my money from there, she would never quit her job. What she did might be illegal, but nobody would rat her house. All the people who could put her in jail were her clients. But, me? I could go to jail for much longer if someone caught me.
“João …” She cupped my face in her hands, lips trembling. “I’m dealing with so much. You helping out around the house and with your sister is enough. It’s all that is keeping me sane right now. I hope that you continue to watch out for her.”
“You know I will.”
“I just …” She looked away from me. “I needed to hear you say it.”
My chest tightened, pain shooting through my body. One day, she wouldn’t have to sell her body out to anyone who would take it. This was another reason to loathe the Redwood rich.
After pressing her lips to my forehead, she headed to the hallway. “Good night, João.”
When she left, I ran a hand through my hair and blew out a breath through my nose. Mom didn’t make me angry by telling me that she couldn’t do this anymore, and I wasn’t even mad that I’d spend the rest of my life taking care of Ana.
What made me pissed was that my son-of-a-bitch father did nothing to help us.
Needing something quick to relax, I snatched my keys and texted Imani.
Me: I’m picking you up.
