Dovie was curled up beside me in bed, asleep, when I woke up this morning. For a moment, I was confused until I moved, and the pain in my shoulder brought it all back to me. The party, Jameson, the gunshot, and Storm. I just wasn’t sure how I had gotten in bed. The last thing I remembered was texting Dovie that I had been hurt and needed Maurice, our nighttime security guard, to help me up to the apartment when I arrived. Hopefully, that was what had happened. I’d fallen asleep while Storm was driving me home.
Trying to make coffee with one hand was more complicated than I would have imagined. At least it was distracting me from all the things slowly coming back to me that I wanted to forget. Mostly what I’d said to Storm in his SUV until he turned up the radio. Thank God for that. Except I hadn’t been able to stay awake when I wasn’t talking, and now, I wasn’t sure if Maurice had brought me upstairs or if Storm had.
Dovie’s footsteps alerted me that she was walking into the kitchen. I spun around to see her sleepy expression.
Her eyes went to the sling my arm was in, and then she signed, “What happened?”
I walked over and pulled out a chair from the table and motioned for her to sit while I took the seat across from it. She did as I’d asked without question, then stared up at me, waiting.
“Jameson was—or is—in trouble with some dangerous men. They came to get him at the party, and he thought I was with them and shot me, but one of the men realized it before it happened and moved me out of the way, but the bullet grazed my shoulder. I’m stitched up, and it did cut into some tissue, but mostly, I’m just sore, and it burns. Nothing serious.” It all came out in a rush, but I’d been trying to reassure her.
Her eyes were wide as she stared at me. “He shot at you?” she signed, clearly horrified.
I nodded. “Yep. But it’s fine. I promise.”
“We need to move. He can come here and shoot you again,” she signed.
I doubted he was still breathing. “Those men who came to get him are taking care of him. He won’t be a problem. But I do think it might be best if we move. I’m sorry about that. I know we’ve not been here that long.”
She stood up, shoving her chair back. “We need to move today,” she signed, looking panicked.
“We can’t move today. I signed a six-month lease. I’ll have to find someone to sublet to or see if there is any way I can buy myself out of it. Then, I’ve got to figure out where we are headed next.”
Dovie looked toward the door to the apartment as if someone were going to burst through at any moment and shoot me. I shouldn’t have told her, but I also didn’t think it was smart to lie to her. She had to know the truth if I was going to keep us safe. Much like me, her childhood had been taken from her at an early age, and that wasn’t something you could get back. Once your innocence was gone, it never returned.
“Who brought me inside last night?” I asked her.
She looked back at me and signed, “M,” which was her short answer for Maurice.
I nodded, relieved.
“You can’t play the guitar with your arm like that,” she signed.
“I know. I’m going to sell the things that Jameson gave me. That should help for a while. As long as they aren’t knockoffs.”
From now on, I was going to have my gifts checked for authenticity before continuing an arrangement with a man. If I had to do this, then I needed to make sure I would have the payoff in the end.
“We could live somewhere less expensive,” Dovie signed. “You don’t have to do this anymore. You can perform in bars for money.”
I shook my head. “That’s not enough.”
It would be enough to live, but not enough to stay somewhere with security like this, and it wouldn’t pay for the help I wanted to get her when she turned eighteen.
Roger had taken her innocence. He’d left her with the same demons I fought daily. I’d be damned if he was going to take her voice too. She’d get it back. I’d do everything I could to make sure of it. That was something I could get back for her, and I would do it. If I had to continue dating wealthy men I knew I had no future with, then so be it. There was no saving me. Not anymore.
But Dovie, I could give her another life, and I would.
“I can keep myself safe. We can go far away. Out of the South. Somewhere they’ll never find me.”
There was no “they” anymore. Just her mother. But telling her that I’d killed Roger was more than she needed to know. She didn’t need to know I was capable of taking a life. She wasn’t old enough for that kind of information yet.
My phone rang, and I slid my hand into the pocket of my sweatpants to get it out. Front-desk security lit the screen.
“Hello?” I said, clutching the phone tighter than necessary.
“Miss Landry, it’s Dan. You have a visitor. A Mrs. …” He paused.
“Maeme,” the familiar voice said in the background.