“Fuck. Neenie, I am so fucking sorry. How do I make it right?”
She shook her head as she headed for the door. “Don’t worry, Knuckles. I know my place by now.”
The door slamming behind her made him feel even worse. And sure enough, the bees returned. Shit, what the fuck was wrong him?
Chapter Ten
“Got your stuff ready?” Danielle asked, leaning against the doorway of her oldest daughter’s bedroom. Grace was stuffing a book and her iPod into her messenger bag. “Doesn’t that make the group communication difficult?”
“I always take it everywhere,” Grace informed her, unimpressed.
“I know,” Danielle said softly, straightening as Grace stood. Her daughter pushed her angled, blunt-cut hair out of her face and scowled.
“What, Mom?”
“Nothing,” was the laughing reply. “You’re so damn prickly today.”
“You know I hate group, Mom. Why should I waste energy being happy about it?”
Danielle held her tongue and turned for the kitchen, sighing inwardly. She was paying her daughter to go to group therapy. Pathetic, but true. Like cleaning her room or helping with dishes: a chore that contributed to her allowance.
Danielle wanted her daughter to be around other kids like her, because her beautiful, sweet, sensitive daughter would always stand out from the crowd.
After hopping to the living room Grace perched on the edge of the sofa, yanked up her jean leg and pulled on a vinyl sock over her residual limb. The stump was below her knee, bottom half of her leg lost in a car accident.
“Not wearing the neoprene liner?”
Grace shrugged one shoulder. “We just sit around, and that basement doesn’t have air conditioning. Last time it felt a bit greasy after a while.”
As Danielle gathered her purse and keys, Grace fitted her aluminum prosthesis in place and was ready to go at the same time. Grace headed for the Escape, and Danielle leaned over the fence. “Ready to go, Annie?”
Her little redheaded sprite looked up from the hunk of metal parked front and center in Knuckles’ garage, a pair of ridiculously oversized garden gloves on her hands. “Can’t I stay with Knuckles?”
Danielle frowned and couldn’t lie; that hurt. When Grace went to group that was a free hour for mother and youngest daughter to hang out.
As she was trying to put on her brave face the neighbor made himself known, stepping out of the garage and into the sun, giving her a wave with a rag that was more black than white. “Morning,” he greeted her, face breaking into a grin.
“Morning,” she returned, willing her stomach to stop that fluttering nonsense it always did when she saw that smile. “Annie, come on. I’m sure Knuckles has other stuff he has to do today.”
Annie looked up at him, expecting his answer. Or his itinerary, apparently.
“Sorry Curly,” Knuckles said, crouching down to be eye to eye. “Momma’s right. I gotta be at the clubhouse in a half an hour.”
Annie giggled. “The clubhouse? Is this a no-girls allowed clubhouse? Is it in a tree?”
Danielle covered her laugh, but Knuckles caught it and joined in. “You’re kind of a smartass today.”
“You said a bad word!”
“I’m a grown up, I can say those words. I pay taxes.”
She scoffed like that made no sense but she handed over the gloves and unbuttoned the huge flannel shirt she’d put on over her own clothes. Knuckles helped her.
“Have fun today, ladies!” he called out, waving as Annie beat feet down his driveway and around the fence to climb in the back of the Escape.
“You too,” she returned, cringing at how falsely cheerful that sounded. To hide her nerves, she turned for the car herself.
“How’s the head?”
Stopping, she cursed mentally then turned back to him. “Sorry?”
“The head?” He’d only moved about four steps out of the garage but she swore she could feel his presence.
“Bit of a goose egg. No more nausea or anything.”
“That’s good. You need anything, you let me know.”
She nodded, slightly confused by that bossy tone but she waved anyway. Back behind the wheel of the Escape she took a deep breath and started the motor.
“You should ask him out, Mom.”
She cast a wary eye at Grace as she fastened her seatbelt. “Can it, Grace.” She knew from that tone that Grace was in cruel, bitch teenager mode. No surprise. She honestly really hated group. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Yeah. Mom can’t date Knuckles. She’s married to Dad.”
“Not anymore, Annie. Remember?”
“When Dad comes back she can marry him then, right Mom?”
Danielle took a deep breath and shot Grace a look that said See what you’ve done now?
“Dad’s not coming back, Annie.”
Danielle hit the brakes hard, patience gone. “That’s enough, Grace!”
Her daughter met her gaze, headstrong and head-on. Her jaw was even to the side. Danielle hated it when she glared at her like that.
“Not another word. Don’t upset your sister. It’s not her fault you’re mad, it’s my fault. So back off.” There was a sniffle in the backseat, and Danielle craned her neck to check on Annie. “You okay, honey?”
Annie nodded, rubbing at her eyes. But she didn’t answer, she just stared out the window. After another look, Danielle confirmed Grace was doing the same thing. Well, silence was better than fighting. Annie would be easy enough to cheer up. Danielle had resigned herself to the fact that her teenage daughter wouldn’t cheer up until the age of twenty, give or take.
The community center that held this group therapy session for teenagers with amputations was in Bakersfield. It was a long twenty-five-minute drive, even as silent as it was. She was barely in park before Grace was out the door without a “Goodbye” or “See ‘ya.”
Danielle took a deep breath, forcing the cheerfulness as she turned to look to the backseat again. “Okay, Annie. What should we do today? Library?”
“Sure!”
Yep, as predicted, Annie was Teflon.
They spent about forty-five minutes searching the stacks at the library. It wasn’t a surprise that Annie wanted books on motors and motorcycles. That aisle was mostly taken up by a large man in a kutte, much like the one Knuckles wore, but his bulk was considerable and his grey ponytail trailed almost all the way down his back. As Annie pushed her way past him, chattering away about engine sizes and the names of parts that Danielle immediately forgot, the man stepped aside to let her go, then he grinned and she realized he was fully listening to her daughter.
Annie’s enthusiasm was infectious. Before long he was crouched at her side, pointing out which books were actual text books for technical colleges that taught small engine repairs. She listened to everything he said seriously, chattering on and on about her neighbor Knuckles and the Harley Davidson Sportster they were putting together.
Danielle leaned against the stacks, eavesdropping on her daughter easily making another biker friend. When she reminded Annie it was time to go, she raised one fist up, the biker bumped it with his own, and told her to “Take ‘er easy.”
After checking out five books on motorcycles, as well as Zen And The Art Of Motorcycle Maintenance—which Danielle doubted Annie would be able to grasp but, whatever, it was free—they returned to the Escape and headed back to the community center.
Trouble seemed to be brewing in front of the building. A group of people were outside the entry, which wasn’t out of the ordinary, but their body language spoke of tension. There were two parts to the group, split at the walkway, and in the middle of one side Danielle could make out Grace, holding her chin as one of the other kids from group had his arm around her, glaring at the kids on the other side of the walk.
Not that she should think of them as kids. The group, those were kids. These guys had to be twenty if they were a day, shouting across the concrete pad.
&n
bsp; “What the hell?” she muttered, unclipping her seatbelt.
“Don’t go, Mom.”
She turned in her seat. “Don’t worry, baby. I gotta get Grace. You stay here, keep the doors locked. Okay?’
Annie’s teeth worried at her bottom lip but she nodded. Danielle locked her door behind her after climbing out of the Escape, and slammed it shut. That’s when she could hear the raised voices.
“Little bitch. I asked you to do one thing!”
“I told you I wasn’t going to sell your shit!” Danielle recognized her daughter’s voice in the din.
She strode up the center of the walk, arms crossed. For a split second, she doubted the intelligence of just getting out of her car, but her daughter stood there, nursing her chin, and this close Danielle could see the blood on her lip.
What the fuck?
“Grace, what’s going on?”
Her daughter’s blue-green eyes flashed as they fell on her, and her lip quivered. “Nothing, Mom.”
She turned to the kid holding Grace, sure his name was Adam. “What happened?”
“These guys want her to sell Oxy for them. They found her again as we let out.” He rubbed Grace’s arm. He had a lower body amputation as well, Danielle thought. “Then he came at her and hit her.”
“Just about to let loose on her little boyfriend, too.”
Danielle turned her attention to the group of young men that certainly didn’t belong in this group therapy class. They were wearing long denim shorts, beaters, and a lot of silver jewelry. No one race made up the majority. They appeared to be Latino, white, black, there was also a fellow that might have been Chinese. They were all scowling at Grace.
Her sixteen-year-old daughter.
“Get in the car, Grace,” Danielle instructed, her heart starting to race. That might be stupid; what if they followed them?
These weren’t guys that wanted anyone’s lunch money. Apparently, her daughter had made friends with drug dealers somehow.
“She’s not going anywhere until she sees the light, bitch.” The mouthpiece for the group stood about six feet tall, with every available inch of skin sporting ink of some kind. He’d run out of room, and Danielle guessed his age at twenty-one.
His eyes met hers, and his chin tilted up. “Got a problem with me calling you bitch?”
She frowned. “Actually, most women don’t like that. Get in the car, Grace.”
“Listen, old lady, she’s staying.”
“No, she’s not. I’m her mother and I’m taking her home.” Danielle reached out for Grace’s elbow, and her daughter was headed her way, when the little asshole on the other side grabbed her arm.
“I said she stays. We had a business arrangement.” Danielle studied him. Jesus, he could only be twenty-one, going by the acne he still had, the patchy beard. But he was big, easily over a foot taller than her and outweighing her by at least sixty percent. But still, really, a kid in the grand scheme of things. A kid brazen enough to grab and intimidate her.
Danielle wrenched her arm away. “She’s sixteen. Legally, it’s impossible for her to sign a contract without my permission. And she doesn’t have it to sell your shit.”
“Looks like someone tried to clue you in once, too,” Mister Mouthpiece said, indicating her lip with a hand gesture. “You bitches don’t learn so good. Must be heretic.”
She couldn’t help it. As stupid as it seemed, she laughed once, short, more of a bark. “It’s hereditary, not heretic. Read a book.”
“Is there a problem here?”
All heads turned in unison. Unnoticed by the assembled people outside the community center, a Bakersfield PD cruiser had pulled up right at the yellow-curb walkway. A tall uniformed officer—over six feet if he was a foot—was striding their way, hands on his utility belt. The vibe changed instantly. And not that it eased. No, the aggression hit a new level, but at least everyone seemed distracted.
Danielle took Grace’s arm and pulled her oldest into her side, and for the first time in years Grace simply took the comfort and wrapped her arms around her mother’s waist. The other kids that attended group fell back, closer to the building, but the gang bangers—assuming that’s what they were—stepped up in a staggered pair of rows, chins up, arms crossed. The cop saw all this and grinned.
“At ease,” he greeted them, stopping about five feet away. “Got a call about unwanted persons loitering. Pretty sure that was all about you guys, Tonto.”
Danielle managed to stifle a laugh at the name Tonto. Had to be a street name, but still.
“Private business. No need for you to be here, 5-0.”
Yeah, he definitely needed more books and less television.
“Complaints about loitering need to be followed up, and assaults certainly do.” The cop’s eyes shot over to Grace, and her daughter stiffened in her arms. “Are you okay, Miss?”
Grace just nodded.
“See? She’s fine. No need for everyone to get all excited here.”
But the cop was still focussed on Grace. “Someone hit her. Did you happen to see who?”
“No one hit anyone, Officer Jones. We’re just having a nice chat.”
The cop completely ignored him and headed their way, which Danielle thought was nuts. She certainly wouldn’t turn her back on that group, but he didn’t seem too worried.
The cop towered over the both of them, his tone low, soft, and decidedly pleasant. It helped that he was also attractive, even without the uniform taken into consideration. Strong jaw, straight nose, defined brow, head perfectly shaped, seeing as it had been shaved. His dark skin was accented by a stunning white smile, which he used on Grace now, and Danielle found herself distracted by his eyelashes. Better than hers, definitely. So dark and long.
“Are you going to be okay?”
Grace was gazing up at him, her chin forgotten, and now Danielle could see the red mark. It must have been a slap, not a punch. But that’s not to say her own blood didn’t boil at the sight of it.
“Grace, honey, the officer is talking to you,” she said quietly, giving her daughter a squeeze.
“I…I’m fine,” she eventually got out. “Just a misunderstanding.”
She felt her mouth tighten into a straight line. Bullshit, sure, but her girl was scared so she let that go.
The officer turned his dark eyes up to her, expression professional. “You two from Bakersfield?”
She shook her head. “Markham. Grace attends the youth group here every weekend.”
Her daughter squirmed, uncomfortable with that share, but Officer Jones’ eyes softened in a way that told her he knew what kind of group held its meetings here.
He dug in the breast pocket of his dark shirt and produced a paper rectangle which he held out to her. Danielle took it, turned it over, as he spoke. “If you have any more problems with these guys, give me call. Cell’s always on.”
Nodding, she looked back up at Officer Jones. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“And if you decide to press charges, let me know.” This was delivered to Grace, with all seriousness.
“I’m fine,” she repeated, wrapping her arms around herself tightly and stepping out from under her mother’s arm.
“Okay then. Try and enjoy the rest of your day.”
Back at the Escape Annie was waiting in the passenger seat. She’d crawled from the back into the front to watch what was going on, then as they approached she scrambled back over the front armrest like they might not see her.
Grace chuckled, and it eased Danielle a bit. “What a goofball. She is not a master of stealth.”
Danielle unlocked her door, climbed in, and stretched across the bench to unlock the passenger side. Grace fastened her seatbelt as soon as she was seated, staring out the window.
“Okay, Grace. Spill. Tell me what’s going on. Now.”
There was silence, and even Annie stilled in the back.
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit. That was a serious scene I ca
me upon there. And he hit you, baby. I could have insisted that cop charge him right then and there. So, you tell me what’s going on or I go to him right now and have that piece of shit in cuffs in less than ten minutes.”
Grace turned to her, finally, eyes wide. “You’re swearing again.”
“You keep pissing me off.”
Her daughter swallowed.
“So, tell me right now what that was.”
Her beautiful eyes shot to the back.
“Don’t worry about Annie. We’ve only got the three of us, remember? We’re a team. No secrets. So talk.”
The thread from the bottom of her sweater suddenly became fascinating as she twisted it around her finger, but eventually Grace found the words. “Brian has some friends asking him to sell this Oxy shit—I mean, stuff—in Markham. They’re looking for high school kids, since if they get caught it doesn’t stay permanent on their record and few people suspect them. He asked me, I told him I wasn’t into it. He said to ask my friends, I told him no. He left it alone after that.” Now she chewed her nail. “I guess those are his friends.”
Danielle had closed her eyes at the mention of Brian of the cool Impala, the one that her daughter skipped school to “hang out with.” “And this is the same Brian that gives you pot?”
Grace nodded.
“You’re never seeing him again, Grace.”
“I know,” her daughter whimpered, voice low. And there it was. This had scared her daughter, seriously enough that she was agreeing.
“And if they come anywhere near us again, Brian included, we’re calling that police officer.”
“Brian lives in Markham, Mom. Officer Jones can’t do anything in Markham.”
Danielle raised her eyebrows. “Well, aren’t you just the law enforcement expert? Did Brian tell you that? Because let me tell you this, he actually can. And if these guys are causing problems with the police department here, they can ask for help from the Markham sheriff and they’ll actually get it.”
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