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“The only cure is becoming mine in every way.”
“I...”
I straightened. “But like I said, take your time. No pressure. Won’t be long now.”
Sidestepping her, I jogged up to Sienna, throwing my arm around her. “The lilies tip is gold. Got any more for me?”
“She loves pralines. Oooh, and the movie nights. Screen When Harry Met Sally, Notting Hill, The Notebook. Just the two of you with a bowl of caramel popcorn. Also...”
Turned out I was keeping Sienna Blaine too. She was a wealth of information, giving me the Kenzie Cheat Book while said sister trailed behind, burning holes in our back. She managed to keep this up for seventeen blocks and two bus rides, which was truly impressive. Every now and then, I’d peeked behind and see her touching her swollen lips.
Poison, baby.
She kept up the silent treatment till we stepped off the bus on Archer Avenue.
“Wow.”
I just nodded. One look at Archer and they both understood why I risked exposure to escort them to this place.
A group of men loitered at the mouth of a trash-filled alley, passing around a crack pipe in full view of the street. By another alley, a dealer slung his product in between arguing with some guy. The argument looked like it was going south fast. Ladies of the night proved how inaccurate the term was, strolling around in broad daylight, sticking their heads in searching cars to speak to potential johns. Up and down both sides of the street were bar, bar, dive, bar, motel, bar, and bar.
“Stay close,” I said. “Don’t look at anyone for too long or too hard. But don’t avoid eye contact. You act weird and shifty around here and they’ll think you’re a cop.”
The sisters held hands, falling in step with me. Once again it struck me how close these two were. I’d die for my siblings and they’d die for me, but you wouldn’t catch Genny and me holding hands and skipping down the street.
“Your sister is here?” Kenzie asked. “Why?”
“Harlow is her turf, like I said.”
“Still. Why?”
I jerked a chin at my crack-smoking brothers and got a round of nods in return, along with a “Sup, man.”
“How much do you know about Harlow?”
“Before you asked that question, I would’ve said as much as there was to know about a borough I’ve lived next to and visited all my life. Tell me what I missed.”
“Harlow used to be run by a gang called the Kings.”
“That much I knew.”
“Did you know they controlled everyone and every business in this borough? Even the cops were on their payroll. Cops that were all fired or arrested after my parents destroyed the Kings. They were replaced by a new force, but after decades of sirens that never came calling after a King hit, or watching officers accept a wad of cash, get back in their cars, and drive away after you called to report the screaming in apartment 3B for the fifth time—the distrust was ingrained.
“Harlownites were free of the Kings. They wanted the police gone too. Neighbors banded together and threw Molotov cocktails at passing police cars. They called bomb threats into the station nearly every day, and more than once tried to attack the officers when they fled outside.” I met their shocked expressions. “It was the Wild West out here, my friends. Everyone talks about the Night of Tears, but the National Guard had to come in three times after that to help regain control. Two of those times were for Harlow.”
“I was right,” Mackenzie muttered. “Saying I knew everything about Harlow would’ve made a fool out of me.”
“Obviously, there are still kitschy restaurants, kiddie parks, art museums, and everything Harlow was known for, but if you know where to go, you’ll stumble on streets like this, where the cops and the residents maintain their unspoken agreement to stay away from each other. Red-light streets.”
“We did know about the red-light streets,” Sienna confessed as we pushed through a group of bikers, parked on the sidewalk and eyeing us like we were in the way. “This is the first we’ve seen one. I have to ask too, why would your sister be here?”
“According to Genny, if there’s trouble, she belongs in the middle of it.” I gestured to a bar toward the street’s end. “It’s that one. Barbarella’s.”
“Looks like a motorcycle bar,” Kenzie noted.
“My sister runs a motorcycle gang.”
Kenzie stopped. “Are you for real? What else do I need to know about Genny?”
I whistled. “So much. Unfortunately, my sister likes to do her own introductions.”
“Why is that unfortunate?”
You’ll find out.
MACKENZIE
Sunny lowered his head as we approached the bar, hiding in the depths of his hoodie. “Stay close, Sienna. Sugar tush.”
I was tempted to ask why Sienna got to be called by her name and I didn’t. I swallowed the retort.
