Page 8 of The Thug And His Doll

“Can I help?” I offer.

She swears again and Toby just sobs harder.

“Who’s that?” Lia asks, a note of trepidation in her voice.

“It’s Drix Hammer… We met at the cafe,” I add just to be sure she knows it’s me.

“This is the female toilets,” she replies, as if I didn’t already know.

“I’m well aware.”

“Then go next door,” she continues, her voice tight.

“I don’t need to use the toilet. I saw you in the bar, and figured–”

“You’d follow a lone woman with a child into the toilet,” she finishes, her voice tense.

“It’s not like that,” I reply, then continue on when she doesn’t respond. “It’s past midnight. You’re in a bar. With a child…” I add, wincing at how fucking judgemental that sounds.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that her coming here was an act of desperation. Guilt climbs up my spine for not pressing her further when we first met. What kind of man knowingly walks away from a woman in need? They’re obviously in some serious kind of trouble.

“I know it’s past midnight and I’m in a bar with my child,” she adds.

It’s clearly her way of telling me to back the fuck off, but I’m here now and I can’t in good conscience walk away.

“I just want to help. Is there anything I can do?”

She doesn’t answer right away, instead I hear her whispering words of comfort to her son, before she unlocks the door and steps out of the cubicle. I catch a whiff of shit, and the tear streaked face of Toby perched on the toilet behind her before she positions herself between me and the door. Her face is flushed, and I can tell by the way her eyes are red-rimmed that she has been doing some crying of her own too. I have the sudden urge to pull her into my arms and comfort her.

Jesus fucking Christ. I’m in over my head here.

“Toby has an upset tummy. I need to get a change of clothes for him from my car, but I don’t want to leave him here on his own,” she blurts out.

“Okay, so give me your car keys and I’ll go fetch him some clothes. Just tell me where to find them.”

She considers my offer, chewing on her lip as she does so. “I don’t know.”

“You’re in quite the predicament, and need help. I can do that.”

“Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t,” I reply, holding my hand out.

“Here,” she murmurs, her shoulders sagging a little as she fishes her keys out of the back pocket of her jeans and drops them into my hand. “My car is a red Toyota with the fuzzy pink dice hanging from the rearview mirror.”

“Got it. Where will I find his clothes?” I ask, pocketing the car keys.

“In the blue suitcase on the back seat. There should be some Smurf pyjamas right on top of the other clothes.”

“Smurf?”

“It’s his favourite cartoon,” she explains, licking her lips nervously.

I nod, meeting her gaze. “Give me a minute. I’ll be right back.”

“I want Blue Bear!” Toby cries from the stool.

“Blue Bear?” I question, frowning.

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