“Thank you,” I tell him as he pushes the cart containing all the things we just bought. “That’s really nice of you.”
He shrugs. “It’s the least I can do. You’re helping me out a ton by being in this group, and I know you had to quit your job to be a part of it.” He pauses for a beat. “I don’t want you to feel like you won’t be able to get the things you need. Singing is your job now. I’ll help take care of everything else to keep you focused on singing.”
It’s been a while since I’ve been in this part of the city. If I’m being honest, I do my very best not to come here at all. It’s not that I hate my father or don’t love him, but it’s hard to deal with him. When he’s not using or drowning his misery in another bottle of Jack, he’s a decent guy—selfish but decent.
Growing up here with my father was rough, but when he married Candace’s mom, things went from shitty to downright hellish. Having two addicts in the house meant things like food and electricity came after their drugs of choice. Getting high was, and still is, their priority.
Every damn time my phone rings, I worry that someone is calling to tell me that my father died.
Laz parks his car along the curb and surveys the barren wasteland of the ghetto before him. “This is where you grew up?” Sadness rings through his voice.
It’s a familiar tone I’ve heard most of my life from social workers and teachers who had driven me home at one time or another, witnessing firsthand what my reality was.
I lift my chin. “Yep. Lived here since I was twelve. The government pays for it, so it was the one place we never got kicked out of for not having rent money.”
He nods toward rows of three-story apartment buildings. “Need me to come inside with you? It doesn’t look too safe out there.”
I grimace. The thought of Laz walking through Dad’s apartment makes me cringe. I did all the cleaning when I was there, but since I’d left, it’s been a constant wreck because Dad and Kathy are responsible for fending for themselves.
I pat Laz’s hand. “No. I’ll be fine. This will only take a minute. I’ll drop the food off, and then I’ll be right back.”
He threads his fingers through mine and gives them a little squeeze. “Okay. If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure. Besides, your car needs more guarding than I do,” I tease, attempting to lighten the situation while wearing my brave face.
Loading both of my arms with the bags filled with groceries, I hope this will be enough to last them for a while. I don’t know when I’ll be able to come back, seeing as I’ll be busy with this group. I make my way through the apartment complex until I reach the entrance of building number four and trudge up the stairs to the fourth level to apartment 406.
Just like most nights in the apartment building, things are in full swing. Music is playing from multiple directions, children are laughing innocently in the dark, unknowingly surrounded by nothing but pain and heartache, and people are screaming. The noise envelops me as I walk down the hall. This is where I grew up. It’s the sounds of my childhood, and in an odd way, it’s comforting.
I stretch my fingers out and ball them into a fist. Trying to keep hold of the bags, I tap my knuckles on the apartment door. “You in there?”
Bottles clinking alert me that someone inside heard me and is making their way to the door. “Drea? Is that you?”
“It’s me, Dad. Hurry up. My arms are breaking.”
The door opens, and there stands my father, squinting at me like the light from the hallway is too bright and stinging. He holds his hand up to shield his eyes while wearing a battered, blue bath robe and a pair of shorts. From the looks of his greasy hair and soiled clothing, he hasn’t showered in quite a while. “Come on in.” He steps back to let me inside.
As I suspected, the place is a destroyed. Piles of dirty clothes are on the floor, and the smell is indescribable. My eyes flick to the kitchen where the trashcan is overflowing onto the floor. Dirty dishes are in the sink, and I’m sure mold is growing after having been there for weeks.
I shake my head. This place is a fucking disaster.
I glance around, and I don’t see one clear, flat surface to set these bags of food on. “Where should I put these?”
Dad looks around and scratches the top of his bald head. “Guess we can set them on the coffee table.”
He moves with a slow gait toward the center of the room, and when he gets to the table, he slides the junk sitting on it to one side. A syringe with an orange cap catches my eye.
My father needs some serious help, but nothing I say gets through to him. Nothing makes him want to change. He has to want to change for himself.
Some might say I’m an enabler, but when he calls me and says they need something, I find it impossible not to help them.
I set the two bags down and then put my hands on my hips. “There you go. Do you need anything else?”
Dad shrugs his bony shoulders. “You know, I could always use a couple of extra bucks if you have some cash on you.”
I roll my eyes and dig into my back pocket. I pull out a twenty-dollar bill and place it in his hand. “This is all I have. Make it last, and don’t spend this on drugs. You got me?”
He nods as he folds up the green paper between his fingers. “Yeah, yeah. I got you.”
I know he’s probably only telling me what I want to hear, but I’m going to pretend like he’s going to use that money for something he needs and not buy dope the minute I walk out of this apartment.
We stand in uncomfortable silence, but it’s always been awkward like this.
My dad and I really don’t have the best relationship. It’s like he finds it hard to talk to me or sometimes even look at me, but he calls me because he has no one else. Candace refuses to help them in any way even though her mother lives here, too. She says she doesn’t condone their lifestyle, and I know that’s her father talking because it’s the reason her parents divorced—her mother’s drug problem.
“I guess I should get going. I have someone waiting for me.”
“Okay, kid. Thanks for the grub,” is the only reply I get.
I’m sure most people would find it shocking that a father could treat his kid this way, but for me, this is the norm—get used and then tossed aside. It’s how our relationship has always been.
And just like that, our visit is over. He no longer needs anything from me, and I find it hard to talk to him.
I shove my hands into the pockets of my hoodie and take off, going back down the way I came in. I don’t miss this place. It no longer feels like home even though my father still lives here. Feels more like hell, a place filled with bad memories I hate coming back to.
I fold my arms across my chest as I walk down the sidewalk between two of the buildings, and a chill runs down my back the moment I hear footsteps behind me.
21
He Knows
Drea
“Well, well, well … if it isn’t Drea.”
I stop in my tracks. The voice is a familiar one that I hoped I’d never hear again.
My heart leaps into my throat as I turn slowly on my heel and come face to face with my past. There stands my Ex in a pair of khaki pants and a dark, long-sleeved T-shirt. His hair has been completely buzzed off, which allows the tattoos covering his neck to stand out. Prison life hasn’t appeared to be kind to him.
I square my shoulders and pretend I’m not scared shitless because Carlos thrives on others fear. “What are you doing here, Carlos?”
His smile, one that I used to love, morphs into an evil grin, causing the hair on the back of my neck to stand up.
I knew I would have to face him someday, and I imagined what it would be like a thousand times over, but nothing could have prepared me for this moment—a moment I knew I couldn’t run from forever.
He raises his eyebrows. “Where else would I be? This is home, so as soon as I got out, I came back. Some of us don’t run away from where we came from. I should be asking you why you’re
here, but I won’t because, honestly, it’s good to see you … real good.” He takes a couple of steps toward me as his dark eyes rake over me. “You look hella sexy in that dress, mami. Those legs make my cock hard. Remember when you used to wrap ‘em around me?”
I hold my hands up. “Stay away from me.”
He stops only a few feet away from me. “Is that how it’s going to be now? Stay away? Really? After all we’ve shared together? You’re my girl, Drea. I told you; you belong to me. Always will.”
I shake my head. “I don’t belong to anyone. We’ve been over ever since the day you got locked up.”
“We’re done when I say we’re done,” he growls as he narrows his eyes at me. “You belong to me. Besides, you owe me.”
“I owe you nothing!”
“You ratted on me. You’re the reason I went to prison!”
“I’m no snitch!” I fire back. “I haven’t told anybody anything about any of your business.”
“That’s not what the word around here is.” He takes another step toward me. “Not only are people saying that you ratted me out, but they’re also saying that you’ve been keeping a secret from me—one you should’ve told me about. Why should I believe you weren’t the reason the cops came to get me?”
“You know me better than that.”
“I really thought you were my ride-or-die, but now, I realize you’re nothing but a liar. The secret you’ve been keeping from me—it’s unforgivable.” He takes another step toward me.
Before I know it, I find my back against the cold brick wall. I’m trapped, and I have nowhere to run.
“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” My usually stern voice wavers, displaying my fear.
The biggest secret of my life is about to come crashing down around me, and the one person I never wanted to know about it knows everything.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about, Drea, and you had no right to do what you did.”
“You’re talking crazy.” I do my best to play dumb even though it feels a lot like he’s on the right track.
He slowly shakes his head from side to side. “You should’ve thought twice before you took anything from me. I don’t allow others to decide my fate, especially some trashy bitch like you.”
I swallow hard, and I stare into his eyes.
Carlos used to control every aspect of my life. When we got together, I was young, searching for love. When he paid attention to me, even when he put his hands on me, I thought he did it because he loved me. The day he got locked up was the day I changed my life because I was freed from him.
Carlos braces one hand up by my face and then shoves the other one on the opposite side, effectively pinning me in place. “Tell me, Drea, how do you figure we’re gonna fix the situation? I think you should tell me everything.”
“There’s nothing to tell you. You need to leave me the hell alone and walk away,” I order.
“I’m not gonna walk away,” he says. “Not until I take what’s mine—everything that’s mine.”
He traces his index finger down my cheek and along my jawline, and my skin crawls at his unwelcome touch. His finger curls under my chin, and he tips my head up, so I have no other choice but to look him square in the eye.
“Including my son.”
My mouth drops open, and the confirmation of him knowing that we have a son together makes tears well up in my eyes.
“We do not have a son.”
“Don’t lie,” he whispers. “You’re not the type to fuck around, or at least before I got locked up you wasn’t. Everyone around here knows you were knocked up, and I did the fucking math. That baby was mine.”
No.
No. No. No.
My heart races inside my chest and my eyes sting. All I can do is shake my head and do my best to deny his accusations.
His pinches my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “You can fix this. Give me another baby since you gave my other one away. Give me a new one, and I’ll forget all about the last one. How about we start right now?”
Carlos leans in to kiss me, and I turn my head, causing his lips to land on the corner of my mouth. I shove against him and whimper.
Carlos pushes my hair back from my ear and growls as he presses himself against me. “Don’t be like that. You know you want this. Don’t pretend like you don’t. You’ve always wanted this, and you always will.”
I shove my hands against his chest as flashbacks hit me like a ton of bricks. The last time I saw him, the night I broke up with him, he forced himself on me and got me pregnant. I won’t allow him to do that to me again.
Energy surges through me as I find the will to fight back. I beat against his chest. “Get off me!”
His eyes harden. “What’s the problem? Don’t you fuck for free anymore? I get it.” His gaze drops down, and his hand moves to my leg, inching its way under the tight spandex skirt I performed in. “That’s what this outfit screams—high priced whore. If it’s money you want, you won’t get it from me. I should make bitches like you pay for my cock and making you come.”
I struggle against him, desperate to break free of him.
“Get your fucking hands off her! Now. Unless you want me to break your fucking fingers off and shove them down your fucking throat.” Laz’s voice cuts through the air and bounces off the brick walls.
My eyes dart over to find Laz seething with his fingers curled into fists at his sides as his eyes remain locked on Carlos’s back.
Carlos pushes himself away from the wall and turns slowly, but he grabs my wrist, keeping me in place. “This has nothing to do with you, homey. Walk away, fucker.”
Laz flexes his fingers. “Not going to happen. The girl is with me.”
“She’s mine.” Carlos tightens his grip.
Laz’s eyes narrow. “I warned you once. Don’t make me tell you again. Let. Her. Go.”
Carlos steps toward Laz, and when he does, he loosens his grip on me for a split second. I seize the opportunity to push away from him and run to Laz.
Laz reaches out and pulls me to his side. “You okay?”
I nod as I cling to his side.
“Drea!” Carlos seethes with anger. “Get your fucking ass back over here. We’re not finished.”
“You are finished, you piece of shit.” Laz steps in front of me, shielding me with his body. “I don’t want any trouble, but so help me, if you don’t walk away—” Laz’s voice rings with authority.
“What?” Carlos challenges. “What are you gonna do about it, you preppy-ass white boy? Do you know who you just fucked with?”
“No, and I don’t give a fuck.”
Carlos waits a long minute, and at first, it feels like he might charge at Laz, but he doesn’t. Laz is quite a bit bigger than Carlos, and it’s not my Ex’s style to go after someone bigger than himself unless he’s sure he can take him. “This isn’t over. I’d better not catch you in my neighborhood.” His hard eyes lock with mine. “I’ll see you around, Drea. You can count on it.”
Before he says anything else, he turns on his heel and retreats.
The moment he’s out of sight, my body relaxes a bit, but I’m still tense. “We need to get out of here. This isn’t a safe place for us to be. The people he runs with all live here and they could come back.”
“Let them,” Laz growls.
His desire to protect me is evident, but I also need to keep him safe too. “You can’t fight them all, and it would kill me if something happens to you because of me.”
Laz stares down at me, his big blue eyes filled with concern. His lips pull into a tight line as he considers what I’ve just said. He nods, but the reluctance in his eyes is clear. “You’re right. We need to go.”
He wraps his arm around me, protectively tucking me against his side, and quickly escorts me back to his car. He opens the door, and once I’m inside, he closes the door, hurries around, and gets into the driver’s seat. Then he locks the doors and throws the car into drive
. The muscles in his forearms tense as he grabs the steering wheel.
I can tell a million questions are floating through his mind, but he doesn’t say a word. I feel like I should say something, anything. I owe him an explanation. He stuck his neck out to protect me, and that’s more than anyone else has ever really done for me. In my neighborhood, you don’t stand up for anyone unless you have something to gain from the situation. The only thing I am to Laz is an employee. Sure, we have a weird sexual connection, and our chemistry is off the charts, but it’s a line we’ve never crossed other than the kiss we shared. At this point, we are still in a business relationship.
“Thank you,” is all I can manage to say.
Both fear and gratitude overwhelm me as I think about how close it came to turning really ugly.
I sit in silence and bat away the tears that keep falling from my eyes during the rest of the ride. There’s nothing I can do to stop them now. I’ve held them back for far too long.
Carlos finding out about our son was the biggest fear I had. I knew he would get out of prison someday and that this would be a situation I had to face, but I wasn’t prepared to do that tonight.
Now that he knows about our son, I’m afraid he’s going to go after him and disrupt the happy life that his adoptive family has been building with him. I’ve not been a part of my son’s life because I didn’t want to leave a trail for anyone to find him, and I sure as hell don’t want him to know about Carlos. And I intend to keep it that way.
Neither of us were ready to be parents. I was sixteen years old, living with an addict father and stepmother. They could barely take care of themselves. They couldn’t take care of me, which was why I always had a job to earn my own money. I was the one who kept the lights on in the apartment. I couldn’t imagine raising a baby in there. I wanted my baby to have a better life than I did. And I knew I could not provide that, so I decided to give him up for adoption.