Page 2 of The Enforcer

I squint at her and frown. She bites her bottom lip. We both know that I can press her and make her tell me whatever she’s trying to hide, and I’m seriously considering it, but I don’t get the chance.

Our cell phones beep at the same time. I pull mine from my purse and frown at the screen.

“Tick. Tock.”

That’s all the text message says.

Shae gasps, and I roll my eyes.

“Come on, let’s get this shit over with. Weirdos.”

I turn toward the front of the building, and Shae’s hand moves to mine. I look at her over my shoulder, and she looks much more nervous now than a few seconds ago.

I squeeze her hand and pull her forward. “We haven’t done anything wrong. We’ll be fine!”

I’m a much better liar than Shae.

“Would you like some tea?”

I want to say no, but that’s not how this is done. When Aunt Mildred offers you tea, you take it.

“Thank you,” Shae and I say at the same time in the same respectful tone we learned as children.

Aunt Eunice pours the light brown liquid into the cups on the small table in front of us. We wait until she’s set the teapot on the small table to our left and then resumed her seat across the living room with the rest of the elder women in our family, including our moms, aunts, grandmother, and even our Great Great Aunt Elmina, our favorite aunt. She’s lied about her age so effectively that only her and God know her date of birth, and she plans to keep it that way. According to my mom, Elmina once pulled a pistol from her purse and said she’d shoot Jesus himself if he tried to put her business in the streets.

I’m pretty sure she’s one hundred and eight years old, though.

Zahra nicknamed these women the Council of Aunties. It’s a funny nickname right up until you’re sitting in front of them with some root tea that tastes like dirt and Dawn soap trying to figure out just how much trouble you’re in.

Shae’s already shaking. The tea is sloshing violently in her cup, spilling over the edges into the saucer. She always folds too easily under the weight of the Aunties’ gazes, bless her heart.

I’m made of tougher stuff. I lift my cup in one hand — palm clasped around it instead of fingers laced delicately through the handle. Auntie Caroline gasps in demure shock. I tip my head back to throw the tea down my throat. I burn the shit out of my tongue, and I can feel my face heating, but I’ll be damned if I sip this nasty shit. Besides, my spectacle pulls everyone’s attention from Shae. I might be the only one who noticed that she just touched her lips to the rim of her cup but didn’t sip, and I’m certainly not going to share that information with the family police department.

“I imagine that you two are wondering why we’ve called you here,” Aunt Mildred says in that haughty tone I hate but mimic in every customer service situation because it’s terrifyingly effective.

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess this is because of Zahra.”

“Watch your tone,” my mother warns.

“Ma’am,” I add in a more subdued voice.

Mildred smirks. “This is about your sister. Have you been able to contact her?”

I frown and deflate, but only on the inside. I can’t ever let the Aunties catch me slipping. “No, ma’am.”

Shae shakes her head quickly. “Last I heard, she was in N-Naples.”

Not to be all Law & Order detective or whatever, but I file Shae’s verbal stumble away for further consideration later.

“And do we know why she went there instead of returning home?” Shae’s mom Karin asks.

Shae turns to her mother. “No, ma’am.”

I meet my mother’s eyes. I can see she’s worried. “I’m sure she’s fine, mama.”

Elmina cackles loudly, and the entire room turns toward her. She’s sitting in the center of the aunties, her rheumatic eyes aimed toward the ceiling even though she’s been blind maybe as long as I’ve been alive. Maybe longer.

“The girl is fine. If she has any damn sense, she went to Naples to find a new man to help her get over the other one. Isn’t that what y’all say?”

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