Page 3 of Sugar and Skulls

“Well, she’s a lot like her old man evidently.”

He huffs at this, not a subject he can argue since he’s currently sitting in prison for offing a rival gang member in broad fucking daylight, in front of the courthouse I might add.

“Why? Don’t fuck with me. My baby girl wouldn’t do that for no reason.”

“You don’t even know her. She might be an evil little bitch like her mother.”

“So help me god, Dirk,” he warns.

“Okay, okay. He was messing with your girl. I caught him with his hand in her pants on his bicycle and before you freak she wasn’t letting him. I could tell by her fucking tears. I broke the little fucks fingers. Assumed he would have learned his lesson but, I guess he has bigger balls than I thought. I may have told her she might have to get a little mean to protect herself, you know?”

Dead silence.

“And why didn’t you kill him?”

I sigh. Should have known broken fingers wouldn’t be enough for Bill. “She was watching.”

He grumbles and I hear him inform someone he has two minutes left and to fuck off. I wait for his orders.

“Have Raffe put the charm on that social worker and find out where she is.”

“Got it,” I toss my cigarette to the ground and fire up the bike. “What about the kid?”

“Leave him. Hopefully, he remembers he fucked with the wrong girl every time he picks up a fork.”

I laugh. Yeah, bet he didn’t see that one coming.

It takes pretty boy, Raffe, a bit of time but eventually he charms the pants off the social worker (literally, I saw the woman’s bare ass pressed against the window of her office). Anyhow he gets Jesse’s location. Bill is definitely not going to be happy. They stuck her in some Catholic boarding school for troubled teens. She’s ten for fucks sake.

Chapter Three

Jesse ~ Twelve years old

???

My grandma always said bad things come in threes. Now I don’t know if that’s true but if it is this should be my last bad thing. One was grandma and grandpa dying, two was Rick and his icky fingers and three, well, let me tell you about three…

After sticking that fork in Rick’s leg, the lady in the suit told me I couldn’t stay at the Ditsworth’s no more. So, she took me to St. Mary’s home from troubled girls. She said they haven’t found Aunt Renee yet, but that’s okay. Grandpa always said she was a bad egg, just like my mama. But, let me tell you, the name of this place fits. These girls are trouble.

I stay out of the way though and keep quiet. For the last two years, I’ve shared a room with a girl named Sandra, she’s boy crazy. She sneaks out every night and when she comes back she has these purple marks all over her neck. She stares at them in the mirror like Grandpa did his medals from the Navy. She sure is proud of them. I think they look like she was attacked by a vacuum cleaner, but I don’t tell her that. That would be mean, and I don’t like being mean.

It’s not bad here. It’s all girls and I like that. No boys mean no Ricks. Or, pricks. Sandra told me what a prick was and now it makes sense why that scary man was calling him that.

I’ve been worried that the scary man did have the right Jesse and my dad might be looking for me. How would he find me here? I’m sure he was wrong though. Grandma and grandpa told me I didn’t have a dad, but everyone has a dad right? I mean I know how babies get into this world and it’s not like my mom was the Virgin Mary or anything like that. Not a bad egg, a bad egg couldn’t get pregnant by divine intervention. That’s something I learned here at St. Mary’s.

The learning is the best thing about being here. The girls are all older than me, but I haven’t had any problems keeping up. In fact, I help the other girls with their homework and in return they sneak me candy. I keep my stash hidden under a loose floorboard cause Sister Catherine would smack my knuckles if she found them. The food here is good though so there’s that.

Everything was going well until Sister Catherine told me I was to be an alter server at church on Sunday mornings. Not something I wanted to do. Not now. Not ever. I don’t like having everyone look at me and I’m not sure I even believe everything these folks are telling me. Grandma and Grandpa didn’t go to church and I’m fairly certain Mama didn’t either. But, I had no choice. So, I did.

It didn’t take awfully long to become Father Gabriel’s favorite server. Probably cause I’m quiet and do what I’m told. After every service he always thanks me and tells me what a good girl I am. He’s nice, but he smells funny, like that smokey stuff they use in church.

But, two Sundays ago it changed, which brings me to the start of bad thing number three. Father Gabriel gave me a ride back to St. Mary’s instead of Sister Catherine. She didn’t seem surprised, so I guess it’s normal. But, it made those little hairs, you know the ones you have on the back of your neck? Well, it made mine stand clean up. Nothing happened, he dropped me off at the front door and drove away.

Last Sunday I decided to not wear a dress or shorts or nothing like that. I wore my long pants. I don’t know why I was nervous but, I was. I wish I had someone to talk to about it, but I don’t. The other girls would probably laugh at me. Since they’re older Sister Catherine doesn’t make them do this alter duty stuff.

After church he didn’t take me straight home, he took me out for ice cream. I love ice cream. Strawberry is my favorite. Part of me wondered if Father Gabriel was going to want something from me since he paid for my treat. Evidently he didn’t because we just ate our cones and then he dropped me off in front of the doors just like last time.

“Jesse, Father Gabrielle is here. Get your shoes on, he is waiting for you downstairs,” Sister Catherine calls from the other side of the door. Sandra gives me a funny look. It’s Tuesday. Why is he here on a Tuesday? I shrug my shoulders and do as I’m told.

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