Page 89 of Property of Chaos

I drop the phone to bury my face in my outstretched arms and sigh.

The door bangs open. “Everything okay?” Theresa backs through with a stack of dirty plates filling her hands.

I lift my head and then the phone again, staring at the blank body of the email. “Yeah.”

“You sure?” Her tone is teasing, as is her smile when I glance her way.

“Trying to word an email to Evelyn.”

“Your aunt?”

I nod.

She ditches the dishes beside the plate washer and crosses the room. “What are you stuck on?”

“It’s okay.” I wave my hand toward the front. “Don’t neglect the customers. I’ll figure it out.”

“What customers?” She snorts. “Mike is coddling his cup as usual, and the Oldenburgs have just left with their usual box of cookies for the creche. If anyone wants a piece of me, there’s a bell.” She jerks her chin at my phone, wiping her hands off on her apron. “Is this about your mom?”

I lean back, setting the phone down on the table. “Yeah. She offered to go to the will reading with me if I changed my mind, but I can’t figure out a way to ask without sounding asthough I’m being needy. Making something that isn’t her issue a responsibility for her.”

Theresa stills. “Honey…”

“I need to do this.”Even if my voice shakes.“I need to go so he knows he can’t always win.” I swallow rocks and force out the thought that rattled through my brain after Chaos left this morning. “What if standing up to him gives another girl the confidence to do the same? What if I start something important?”

Maybe that’s all it takes. What if that was the point of all this shit? Not to make life any different for me but to prove to others that it’s possible to escape his reach and find their freedom.

“Well,” Theresa states, pulling out the adjacent chair. “If I can help you do that, I will. So let’s figure this out.”

It takes us barely five minutes of back and forth to brainstorm the email, asking Evelyn for her support while detailing the limits of my willingness to speak with him. I don’t want her under any illusion that this is something I do easily, and after what happened when she visited, I figure it’s only fair to pre-warn her about what she’s up against.

I close the mail app with a rush of breath and drop the phone face down on the table. “Thank you.”

“Take another five, sweetie.” Her chair scrapes as she stands. “Have a breather before you come back out front.”

“Can I ask you something?”

She stalls on her way to the door. “Sure.”

I take a second to look at her—reallylook at her. Not the woman I know now, but to see past that and imagine the woman she once was. “How do you know the Kings of Anarchy?”

Her lips part, and she lifts an eyebrow with a slow exhale. “Well.” Theresa chuckles. “It’s a long story. Not something I can answer easily if you know what I mean?”

“Sorry.” I tug my abandoned muffin toward me and pick off a small bite. “Forget that I asked.” An awkward laugh passes my lips before I shove the food inside to save saying anything else stupid.

“It’s okay.” She folds her arms, glancing at the door. “I’m happy to talk about it. It’s just that I feel as though telling you a shortened version of it might, you know, give you the wrong impression about me.”

“Why?” I tear off more apple cinnamon goodness.

She winces. “Do you know what a club bunny is?”

“I’ve read about them.”Thanks, smartphone.“They’re sometimes called sweetbutts or property girls.”

“Mmm.” Lips pressed tight, she glances to the floor and toes an invisible spot on the linoleum. “Well, in a nutshell, I was one of those in my younger years.”

“Therese…” I coax, waiting until she lifts her head to continue. “I’m the last person to judge another’s history.”

She exhales, relief evident in the sag of her shoulders. “I know. It’s just…”

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