“What about Amadi?” Betty pulls the cords out of Violet’s reach. “Her boy dead.”
At the mention of Amadi’s loss, something inside me breaks. “Yeah, you’re right.” I should go to the police station right now. It’s only four blocks away.
But no. I just can’t. Wade will find out I left Violet home alone that night. He’ll never forgive me. And Razor will kill me!
“Crime Stoppers,” Betty says.
“You think she should call them?”
“They don’t say your name. Mr. Mensah told me.”
“He did?”
“He say nobody find out. Safe, safe.”
“I guess,” I say.
“Could be reward,” Betty says. “Lots of money.”
Interesting. Could they possibly pay me enough to turn Razor in? “What if it’s still too big a risk?”
Betty shrugs and pours more tea. We drink it in silence. There’s really nothing else to talk about. But even if Big Bad Betty suspects it was me in Ready Go, she doesn’t know for sure.
I head back upstairs to the apartment and feed Violet again. I put her down for her nap. I lie on my bed and try to sleep too. But of course I can’t.
What to do? What to do? What to do?
Chapter Ten
“You okay?” Wade says at dinner. “You look worried.”
I concentrate on cutting up the roast chicken he bought at the deli. He also got potato salad, coleslaw and crusty bread. My favorite meal. “Yeah, sure. I’m fine.” He holds out his plate, and I fill it for him. “I mean, I’m still upset about the shooting, but that’s normal, right?”
“Of course.” Wade tries to make eye contact. I pretend to be busy serving myself some chicken. But when I sit down at the table, he’s still looking at me. “Anything else?”
“I guess I’m just really tired,” I say. “I haven’t been sleeping much.”
“Why’s that?”
“Oh, you know. Violet fusses in the middle of the night, and then it’s been so hot and all.” Violet drops her spoon, and I pick it up for her. “Hey, were you able to get somebody to cover for you tomorrow?”
“Sorry, no.” Wade starts eating his dinner. “Everybody’s either sick or on holidays.”
“But it’s Kwame’s memorial!” I don’t want to go without Wade.
“Jem,” Wade says. “Do you think I didn’t try? I’m on the co-op board, for Christ’s sake. Of course I’d go if I could.”
I almost offer to work for him. Anything to get out of facing the Mensah family. But that would make Wade suspicious. “Yeah, I know. Sorry.” I get a cloth to wipe Violet’s face and hands. “But can’t you just put a Closed sign on the door?”
“No.”
“That’s so not fair.”
“Well, that’s what being manager means. It all comes down to me.”
“Still,” I say. “I wish you could come.”
Wade gives me this look. I know it so well. When I was a little kid, he always knew when I was hiding something. He still does.
When I escaped from Razor and came here pregnant and desperate, it didn’t take Wade long to find out everything. He wanted me to press charges. But I just wanted to forget. So I said no. Now, though, I kind of wish I had. Because Razor would be in jail, and maybe Kwame would still be alive.
I’m tempted to tell Wade about the shooting. The relief would be so great. And no matter how pissed off he’d be, I think he’d help me.
But just as I’m about to cave, Wade gets up. “Okay,” he says, clearing his plate. “I’m off to hit some home runs.”
He plays in a slow-pitch league. I’d forgotten he has a game tonight. Now I’ve missed my chance to confess.
Or maybe I’m just too scared. He’d stay home if I told him what happened.
I lift Violet from her high chair and cuddle her. “Who’s my sweet flower?” I say. “Who’s the best little girl in the world?” She pulls on my hair and laughs.
I hold her even closer. How would I cope if anything ever happened to her?
After dinner I clean up the kitchen. Then I try to watch TV. But, just like the other night, nothing distracts me.
All I want to do is check the news. They’re still talking about the shooting. Still asking the young woman who was in Ready Go to call. Still begging witnesses to come forward. Still playing Mr. Mensah’s plea for information from the public.
Nothing’s changed, which I guess is good for me. But not for Kwame’s family. I feel so terrible not telling them what I know. But I’d feel worse if I did.
I don’t know what to do for the rest of the evening. I’d like to take Violet for a walk, since we’ve been in all day. But I’m scared to go outdoors in case Razor shows up again.
So how to fill the time? Sit here and obsess about what’s going to happen? Worry about facing the Mensahs at the memorial tomorrow? Fight off fear of what Razor might be planning?
I’m almost glad when there’s a knock at the door. Probably Betty, come to see how I’m doing. I think about not answering, but I know she won’t go away. So I open the door.
It’s not Betty.
It’s Razor.
Chapter Eleven
Razor’s wearing jeans that fit perfectly and a T-shirt that shows off his tats. He looks like a movie star. But not the hero. The bad guy.
“Hey, babe,” he says with a grin. “Knew you’d be happy to see me.”
“No, I’m not.” I try to push the door shut. “Go away, or I’ll call the cops.”
“Seriously?” He forces the door open with one hand. With the other, he twists my arm up behind my back. “I can’t let you do that, Jem.”
I struggle, but I’m helpless against him. “Let me go!”
Razor grips my arm tighter. Hurts like hell.
He forces me into the living room, pushes me onto the sofa and plunks down beside me. Sticks his booted feet up on the coffee table and slings a muscled arm around me. “You’re too skinny, babe. Why’d you go and lose so much weight?”
I don’t answer. I just sit very still, waiting to see what he’ll do. But it’s impossible not to notice his smell. Sweat and sex. Was he with his new girl before he showed up here?
I rub my arm where he twisted it. My heart is beating like mad, and I feel sick with fear. I hate that he still has power over me.
“Why are you here?” I try to sound casual. Like he drops in all the time. Like we have a nice, friendly relationship.
“To see my kid.”
“She doesn’t want to see you.” Violet is on her playmat, cooing at her reflection in the little mirror. She looks adorable. I just changed her into a clean onesie. It’s white, with leaves and ladybugs.
Razor smiles down at her. He tightens his hold on my shoulder. “Sure she does. Time we got to know each other.”
“Not a chance.”
“Hey now, don’t be so harsh. I’ve been thinking a guy could change for his kid.”
“Don’t bother. It won’t change my mind.”
“Bet some child support would help. I should be paying you, right?”
“I don’t want your money. I don’t want anything from you.”
He laughs. “’Course you want money.”
I pull away from him and go into the kitchen. “Want a beer?” I open the fridge, so it sounds like I’m getting him one. Then I pick my phone up from the counter.
But Razor is beside me in a second. “Don’t even think about calling your brother,” he says. “Or the cops.” He grabs my phone, chucks it onto the counter and turns me to face him. He pulls me close, his hands on my ass. “I miss you, Jem.”
I can feel him against me. I remember how my body used to respond. But not now. “Well, I don’t miss you.”
“My new girl, Sierra, she’s just not as easygoing as you were, you know?”
“Don’t know, don’t care.”
“She was pretty pissed off when she found out I already have a kid.”
Now I care. “You told he
r?”
“It’s big news. I’m a dad!”
“Does she know about the shooting too?”
He tangles the fingers of one hand in my hair. “’Course not. She knows all about you though.” His other hand slides over my right butt cheek, caressing and squeezing. “Where you work, where you live.” Then he whispers in my ear, “She’s insanely jealous. It’s her you should be scared of, not me. Oh, and the guy that did the shooting.”
I don’t react. I’m not taking the bait. Even though I’m scared to death of both Razor and the shooter.
He loosens his hold on me, opens a drawer and pulls out a knife. Not a big butcher knife. Just a little paring knife. But it’s super sharp. He scratches the countertop with the blade. “Nice,” he says. “Knife like that could do some serious damage.”
Don’t I know it. My heart pounds. I have to be careful not to set him off. “Okay, let’s talk. What will it take?”
“For what?”
“For you not to tell the shooter who I am. And to get rid of you.”
Razor tosses the knife in the sink. “Let me see my kid.”
“No,” I say. “Not possible.” I am not making a deal with Razor. Not letting him build a relationship with Violet.
“Really?” Razor says. “Because you know it’s your only chance.”
I think about that for a minute. No, I can’t do it. There has to be another way.
But what? I think some more, my eyes on the knife in the sink. How has it come to this? I’ve tried so hard to be a good mom to Violet. How can I let Razor spend time with her?
“I’m waiting,” he says. “You know I can protect you. And her. I can protect you both.”
“But…” I say.
“But what?”
But nothing. He’s right. He is my only hope for safety.
It’s a bad idea that just might work.
I have to go for it. “Fine,” I say. “Here’s how it will be. You can see her for one hour once a month. In a public place, like a café or park. With me present. In return, you promise not to contact us at any other time or demand any more rights. And you agree not to tell the shooter who I am or anything about me.”
“Once a week.”
“Once every two weeks.” I don’t know why I’m arguing. Razor always gets what he wants.
I’m stunned when he tilts his head and says, “Okay, I can live with that, if you swear not to rat on me.”
“Deal,” I say. “But how do I know I can trust you?”
“Same way I know I can trust you.” He smiles down at Violet on her playmat. “For our kid’s sake.”
“Right,” I say. “We trust each other for her.”
“So we both swear on our kid,” Razor says, “that we’ll stick to the deal.”
It feels weird and sleazy, but we both swear on Violet to keep our word.
As he leaves, Razor adds, “Hey, don’t look so pissed. We’re in this together now.”
Chapter Twelve
God, what have I done? Made an impossible deal with Razor, that’s what.
As I lock the door behind him, I have the sick feeling this won’t end well. I don’t want to be in this “together.” Don’t want him seeing Violet on a regular basis. Don’t want him anywhere near us.
I pick up Violet and hug her hard. “Sorry, best little girl in the world,” I tell her. “But your dad really wants to see you, and he’s not the nicest guy.” Will she someday thank me or hate me for this? “It’s complicated. If the guy who shot Kwame finds me, you won’t have a mom. So it’s better this way.”
Violet cuddles up, tucking her head between my neck and shoulder. I think about Kwame’s parents and know that even though I’m in big trouble, I’m lucky. I don’t get a do-over, but at least my kid is alive. The Mensahs will never see Kwame again.
Still, I really wish I hadn’t made that deal with Razor. But what choice did I have? I had to agree to that so he’ll protect me from the shooter. If I break my word, I’m screwed.
The cops might offer witness protection, but Razor or the shooter would find and kill me first. And even if they didn’t, I’d still have to testify in court.
I can just picture how that would go. Big-shot defense lawyers would grill me and expose the ugly truth about what I did with Razor and his friends. The photos and videos would be on the news and all over the Internet for the whole world to see.
And that would be the end of my credibility and any shred of self-respect.
I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that thinking about all this makes me want to call my mom. I haven’t talked to her in months. Not since I let her know that Violet was born.
She wanted to come help me, but I wouldn’t let her. She offered me a chance to forgive and forget, but I shut her out. Couldn’t admit she was right.
I wish now that I had let her come. She’s never even met Violet. Her only grandchild. All I did was send her a few photos. What a bad daughter I am.
I pick up the phone and dial her number. But she doesn’t answer. The sound of her recorded voice makes me cry.
I don’t bother leaving a message. What would I say? Oh hi, Mom, just calling to say that your former best little girl in the world messed up again. Just wanted you to know I’m in deep shit. And I’m so sorry, but this might be the last time you ever hear my voice.
After I give Violet her bottle and tuck her into her crib for the night, I break down and drink some of Wade’s beer. Sneak one of the cigarettes he thinks I don’t know he hides in his underwear drawer.
Then I take a shower. I need to wash the smell of smoke off me. But mostly I need to scrub away Razor’s touch.
As the hot water rains down, I run my hand over my right butt cheek. There’s a rough red scar there, shaped like the letter R.
Exactly where Razor had his hand tonight. Reminding me who is really in charge.
I go to bed and lie awake, wishing Wade would come home. I can’t tell him about Razor’s visit, but I’d feel safer with him here. Way safer. Because even though Razor said he’d keep his word for Violet’s sake, I don’t really trust him.
But my brother has probably gone for drinks with his ball team. He won’t be back for hours. I’ll just have to tough it out.
I can’t still my mind though.
I’m tormented by memories of the time I lived with Razor. It’s hard to believe I stayed with him for so long, but he isolated me from my mom and brother and kept me drunk or drugged. He convinced me I was worthless except as his sex toy.
Then I got pregnant. It definitely wasn’t planned, and I wasn’t even sure if the father was Razor or one of his friends. But I wanted to have the baby, and I figured Razor would force me to have an abortion. So I had to get out.
The night I told him I was leaving for good, he tried to stop me. Locked me in, held me down and carved his initial on my butt cheek with a knife.
But later, after he passed out, I ran. Called a taxi and showed up at Wade’s. Bleeding and bawling, I begged my brother for help.
Wade said I could stay with him as long as I lived by his house rules. Which wasn’t easy. There were lots of days when I wanted to bail. But I stuck it out. I had a goal. A reason for making a better life.
I had hope. So much hope. And when Violet was born, I felt like I’d been reborn.
I was a mom now. And I was going to be a good one. I was never going to let Violet find out that her father was a criminal. And I wasn’t going to let Razor find out about her.
But I failed. I left my baby alone. Just for a few minutes, but that’s all it took. To witness a murder. And let Razor back into my life.
Even worse, now I’ve let him into Violet’s life.
Chapter Thirteen
Wade babysits Violet while I go to work the next morning. I have to walk past Kwame’s corner again. Even more flowers and notes and toys are piled up on the sidewalk. I don’t know how I’m going to get through the memorial this afternoon.
I work my shift in a daze. I
don’t mess up like last time, but I do watch the door in case Razor appears.
He doesn’t though. But I doubt he’s going to leave me alone, no matter what he agreed to. Like I said, I just don’t trust him.
And I don’t know if I can keep my word. I so don’t want him around Violet. Sure, people can change when they have a kid, but it’s hard to imagine Razor going straight.
And yes, I know fathers have rights. But I don’t think fathers like Razor deserve any. He’s an accomplice to murder!
He and the shooter should be locked up. And the only way to make that happen is for me to go to the cops. To hell with the consequences.
Am I brave enough to do that?
I just don’t know.
When I get home, Wade and I switch roles. He goes to work. I feed Violet lunch, but I can’t eat anything myself. The fact that I’m even considering ratting on Razor makes me want to throw up. It’s a huge risk.
But if something happened to Violet, I’d definitely want a witness to come forward. The Mensahs deserve the truth. No matter how unpleasant.
Plus, I can’t keep living in fear of Razor. And what about his new girl, Sierra? I feel sorry for her. She’s probably in the same situation I was. And even if she gets away, he’ll always prey on other vulnerable young girls.
It’s not right for him to go free.
I have to do something.
I can’t keep my word or this terrible secret any longer. And the second I make that decision, I feel a weight lifting from my heart.
I’ll admit that part of my motivation is revenge. But Razor deserves everything he gets. And revenge isn’t the biggest part. This is the right thing to do.
I need to act immediately. Before the memorial service. Before I change my mind.
I’m still not brave enough to face the police, so I go online to find the number for Crime Stoppers. When I start to dial, though, I lose my nerve. Their website says they’re anonymous, don’t have call display and don’t record calls. But still. I don’t think I can make the actual words come out of my mouth. I hang up.
Back on the website, I notice what is called a secure online form. I click on the link and get to work. There are a lot of boxes to fill out. I don’t have all the info they ask for, but I give them Razor’s name, a physical description, vehicle info and details of everything I saw.
Impossible Page 4