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Lily’s face fell. “Gabby said they only pay minimum wage, and the snow cone syrup gets all on your hair and stains your clothes.”
“And how would she know?”
“Her cousin worked there.”
“Well, I made $5.15 per hour at my first job, and I survived,” Rae said.
“Gabby said her dad might let us work at his law firm over the summer making copies and filing.”
“That’s the first I’ve heard about this. Besides, you’re fifteen. You should be planning all the fun you’ll have this summer, not pushing paperwork at some law firm.”
Lily huffed out a dramatic sigh. “Whatever.”
After dinner, Lily disappeared into her room, and Angel helped Rae clear the table.
“I don’t even know this Gabby chick,” Angel said, “but I kinda want to slap her.”
“Right?”
Angel placed a stack of dirty plates on the kitchen counter. “So, have you heard anything from that detective?”
Rae set the sponge in her hand down and faced her best friend. “Not yet. And I know what you’re going to say. That I should’ve waited for them to get a court order for the records, but it would’ve looked like we weren’t cooperating. And you weren’t in the room with him and his intimidation tactics.”
“Exactly.” Angel pushed a strand of her magenta-dyed hair behind her ear and crossed her arms. “I should’ve been a part of that discussion.”
“You mean interrogation?”
Angel’s face remained stern. “Call it whatever you want, Rae-Rae, but sometimes I think you forget we started this thing together.”
Rae didn’t forget. When she’d met Angel, she’d had a newborn, no job, and no rental history. But she had cash, and Angel, who was renting out her garage apartment at the time, took a chance on her. Over the course of many nights chatting on Angel’s back deck, Rae slowly opened up about the life she’d had in California before coming back to Oklahoma. And Angel didn’t judge her, didn’t even bat her long lashes at hearing some of the most disturbing parts. But then Rae knew Angel’s life had taken many dark turns too. Being a Black woman ina red state was dangerous enough. Being a Black lesbian meant always knowing your surroundings and any exits at all times.
Rae nodded. “You’re right. You should’ve been in the room with me, but maybe it’s better you weren’t.”
Angel raised her eyebrows.
“The detective knows I changed my name.”
Angel shrugged. “It’s not too hard to find out.”
“I know,” Rae said, “but why? How would me changing my name thirteen years ago have anything to do with his investigation?”
“Do you think he knows anything about when you were ... you know ...”
“Trafficked? I don’t see how.”
Rae had never formally reported it because reporting it meant an investigation into Clint, Bobby, and the other men, and she knew it was a rabbit hole that would never lead to justice because there never was justice for rape survivors like her. Only pity. Or worse—blame.
“Well, maybe he thinks you’re cute and just wanted to find out more about your fine ass.” Angel’s grin spread to Rae’s face.
“Oh, my God, hush!”
“Yeah, I could tell you thought he was hot shit.”
“I’m serious!”
“So am I!”
Rae took the wet sponge from the countertop and aimed it at Angel, but Angel dodged it, grabbed it from the kitchen floor, and threw it back at Rae’s head.
