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Chapter Twenty-three
The next morning, after a nice breakfast that Kayla and Angie lightheartedly prepared, Charli purposely forced the issue to drive Angie home. Angie’s attitude toward Charli had thawed slightly since the day before, but her dead-eyed look would still freeze-frame a more tender, kindly soul.
“I don’t need a ride. I can walk. I want to walk.”
“Tough. I intend to drive you home, kid, and that’s that.”
As they approached Angie’s home and pulled to the ditch in front, Charli gave Kayla the warning look they both recognized. “I’m going in with Angie. Lock the car doors. And in case you feel the need, I left something for you in the glove box.” This statement made no sense to Angie, but Kayla’s expression took on a serious edge, and she nodded. Message received. She had protection.
Though both of the girls had stiffened with surprise, Kayla, used to taking orders from Charli, said nothing. Whereas, Angie tried to talk and got cut off. She finally shrugged and gave in.
“This won’t take long.” For the first time ever, Charli intended to leave Kayla in the car, but it couldn’t be helped. She’d be safer here. Meanwhile, she escorted Angie to her door.
As they walked up the cracked sidewalk together, Charli saw the disrepair of the older home, the missing lawn replaced by weeds, rocks and dirt. The stringy sheet half-hanging in the dirty window, the broken-down steps leading to the door, adding to the appearance of a place no one cared about. Moving forward, she made sure that Angie stayed behind her.
As they reached the front door, she warned the startled girl, her voice firm, hard, no compromise at all. “You do exactly what I tell you, kiddo. Exactly. Got it?”
Stunned, Angie stared at her, a worried, scared look appearing. “Yeah, sure. What’s up, Charli?”
“Let’s go inside and you stay behind me, you hear?”
“But… like, what’s wrong?” Angie clutched at her arm, stopping their forward momentum.
Charli’s harsh tone belied her comforting words. “Just do as I say, right? We just have to get through these next few minutes, and I need you to be brave. I’ve no doubt of the outcome, but in case things go to hell, you run back to the car, lock yourselves in and get Kayla to call 9-1-1. Got it?”
Totally bewildered, Angie nodded. The frightened look on her face showed that she’d picked up on Charli’s seriousness but didn’t know what brought about the change.
“Did I do something?”
“Shit, no.” Charli reached out to touch the flinching girl’s face. A gentle caress on the cheek was all she attempted and all she was allowed. “Okay, let’s get this over with.”
Charli took Angie’s key from her hand and used it to open the door, then she walked into the house. The first thing she saw was a braless woman lying on the sofa, her grubby T-shirt barely covering her nakedness and her dirty white shorts missing a button. Straggly, unwashed hair and sores on her face, the woman’s one eye drooped while the other gave an impression there was no one home.
“Angie? Honey? Is that you? Could you make me some toast? I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday. Girl, are you listening?”
Charli waved Angie back and spoke up, “Mrs. Taylor? Angie’s leaving. She’ll be moving in with me for a while. Here’s my card, the address is on the back. If you have any problems with this arrangement, call Major Blake Sebastian of the FLPD. He’ll deal with any questions you have.”
Charli gave Angie a tiny shove. “Go to your room and gather everything you need. I’ll wait, honey. Don’t worry. Go now.”
Charli saw the tears explode out of the worried, enlarged eyes of the youngster. “Hank won’t like it.”
Mrs. Taylor piped up, her hysteria obvious. “You can’t do this. She’s my baby. My husband will stop you, see if he don’t.”
“I’d like to speak to your husband. Where is he?”
“No, Charli, don’t. He’ll hurt you.”
“Like he hurts you? Not anymore. Never again. Go and do as I told you.” She gently pushed the girl toward the stairs.
It was hard talking over the screeching racket erupting from the beauty queen who’d roused herself from the couch but didn’t have the stamina to stand. Falling back, she forced herself forward again and was finally able to stumble toward the room off the kitchen, bellowing, “Hank, you get out here. There’s a woman here, taking our Angie.”
The door opened and the creepiest guy Charli’d seen in a long time shuffled out, half asleep. His overweight body looked like a walking boulder of muscle and flab, with short, skinny legs as props. Seeing a working man, one whose back and arms were most likely his tools of employment, and his belly a dumping ground for too much beer, she waited.
Eyes too close in the oversized head, hair missing on top and puffed out like a wreath around the bottom part of his head, it hung long enough to hang over his thick neck. Weaving towards them, he pushed his stained white muscle shirt, the type the kids refer to as a wife-beater, into his droopy sweats and glowered. “Where’s that bitch, Angie? Why’d you let her go away last night?”
“I never let her, idiot. She jis’ took it on herself to stay away. You gotta talk to her, make her mind.”
Suddenly, Hank looked over and saw Charli. His eyes narrowed when he saw the disgust she didn’t attempt to hide. Not too stupid, he stomped to within a foot of her and sneered, “Get out of my house, cop.”
