Page 23 of Mafia Kings & Wedding Rings
Stumbling into the bus station minutes later, cold and wet from the storm, I shook it off and lowered my hoodie before padding toward one of the clerks behind the desk.
“What’s the cheapest ticket you have, and where does it go?” I asked.
It was late, and although there were a few people scattered on benches with luggage or standing around on their phones, it wasn’t busy. There were three clerks behind the desk, and two of them were in a corner gossiping and not paying attention to anything else. The older black woman, whose nametag read Sandy, tapped a few keys and looked at her screen before focusing on me.
“That would be $19.50, and it goes to Oak Bluffs, Kansas.”
“Where the hell is that?” I queried, balling my face up.
“Some small town, barely a blip on the map. You want the ticket?”
I stuck my hand in my back pocket for the little bit of cash I had, which equaled about fifty-seven bucks. I was moving all that weight for Skully and didn’t have shit to show for it. He controlled everything that came and went from our place. If we needed something, he’d buy it or send someone else to do it. He didn’t like leaving me or my mama with cash because he always said we would just end up leaving him like everyone else. On top of being an abusive asshole, he was also a complete narcissist.
“Yes, please,” I sighed and handed her a twenty-dollar bill.
“There you go. Bus leaves in about forty-five minutes,” Sandy advised, sliding my ticket across the glossy counter.
“Thanks.” I snatched it up and quickly pivoted so I could find a place to sit and not be seen.
I prayed Skully or none of his boys thought to come here. Deciding to freshen up and check my appearance, I moved quietly through the bus station until I reached a door for the ladies’ restroom. Dropping my duffel on the counter, I stepped forward in the harsh lighting to get a closer look at myself. My eye was already black and blue, and it hurt like hell trying to open it and see through it. Snatching a paper towel from the holder, I held it under warm water to address the blood dried up on my busted lip. I was going to look fucked up until that swelling went down, but I didn’t care since I’d finally gotten the fuck out of there. This was going to be the last beating I took.
Once I finished cleaning myself up, I changed into a different shirt to get rid of the one with the blood stains. Them bitches that jumped me earlier had ripped my shit all up too. I slid my hoodie back on over it and let myself out into the hall. Approaching the board that showed all the buses and different routes, I searched for the number that matched my ticket and saw that I now had about twenty minutes left to wait. Across the street was a little pharmacy that was still open.
I decided to go grab a few things, like something to drink and a snack, then come back to wait for the bus. I didn’t know how long the ride was to Oak Bluffs, so I decided to check it on the map app on my TracFone while crossing the street. I was currently in Omaha, Nebraska. According to the map’s estimate, it was maybe a three-and-a-half to four-hour drive. I ended up stealing an extra charger for my phone, but I grabbed a big bottle of Smart Water, a bag of white cheddar popcorn, and a couple of packs of beef jerky with jalapeño cheese to hold me over.
There was also one turkey Lunchables pack left, so I grabbed one and paid for everything. I let my phone charge the rest of the time I sat in the bus station until I heard my number and route being called. Lifting myself from the bench, I followed the other passengers who seemed to be boarding and blended in. I had no idea what the hell I was going to do in some small town where I knew no one, but it had to be better than my current situation.
“Last stop! Oak Bluffs, Kansas!” the bus driver announced.
Stirring from my nap in the worn leather bus seats, I lifted my head from the window it rested against and noticed we had arrived at another Greyhound station. Checking my surroundings, I repositioned my bag that I’d used as a pillow. I squinted at the time on my phone in my lap and saw that it was just a little after five a.m. Still very much dark outside, I sat up to stretch and yawn. Allowing a few of the passengers from the rows behind me to pass first, I pulled my earbuds from my ear and put them in their case and tucked both into the pocket of my jacket. I had no idea what I was going to do or where I would go as I slung the strap of my bag over my shoulder.
An oddly calming effect swept over me when I took that last step and my foot hit the pavement. It was indescribable. I surveyed my area and spotted what looked like a bus stop where a few people had gathered while some were picked up by loved ones. A low tremor of thunder accompanied a bolt of lightning across the sky.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I grumbled in annoyance.
“You’re not from around here,” a raspy voice addressed me before exhaling a puff of smoke from her cigarette.
She leaned against the side of the building, and I wasn’t one to judge, but she looked like she was on the stroll. With her long legs covered in fishnet stockings and a leopard-print skirt set hugging her hourglass frame, I suspected she serviced by the hour. Underneath all that makeup, I felt like she was pretty. Most hoes caked their face with that stuff so that they weren’t recognizable on a regular day. Her wig was on point, though, melted to her scalp by someone with some skills as she examined her long, decorative, coffin-shaped nails.
“No, I’m not.”
When she caught a glance of my battered face, her expression softened. Lowering her cigarette at her side, there was something very human behind the warm gaze there now. She had rich bronze skin that glistened even in the darkness. Nude glossed lips shined against the streetlights above us.
“Shit, baby girl. What that other muhfucka look like?” She took another quick pull of the cigarette before flicking it into the wind.
“Like my mama’s boyfriend.”
“Hmm, unfortunately, I know that sob story a little too well. I’m Lorna,” she introduced herself.
Hesitant, I studied her bright eyes and concluded she wasn’t a bad person. There was genuine concern behind her stare.
“Sixtine.”
“Excuse me?”
“My name. It’s Sixtine,” I informed her, watching a familiar frown flit across her face.
I got that reaction from most people when I told them my name.The shit damn sure wasn’t conventional. I’d never met anyone else with that name.
