Page 35 of The Killer Cupcake
Pinkie shot up and stepped forward,her robe rustling like a sigh.“Honey, that ‘advantage’ ain’t armor. When they see us—light, dark, in-between—they see the same thing: a body to use. Janey’s skin might’ve opened doors, but behind those doors, nothing was better for her. Not even now with Carmine. It’s rare to find a lover, a friend, all wrapped in a man who doesn’t punish and call it love. And it won’t be better for you.”
Willa’s composure frayed. “You think I don’t know that? But if you’d ever felt this… hollowness?”She pressed a fist to her chest.“Like Butts scooped out everything good inside me—hope, family, dreams—left nothing but dust? You’d understand. Anywhere is better than back there. One day Kathy gone leave, her prince gone take her to her own palace. Like what Janey got. And I’ll still be there, washing Ms Lottie’s drawers and mopping floors.Eating scraps from her table. Anyoneis better than that emptiness.”
Silence hung thick between the women.
Janey’s eyes—amber and unreadable—switched to Pinkie. A lifetime of understanding passed between them:She’s already gone.
“Tell Kathy…”Willa swallowed, the ghost of Butts cotton fields choking her.“Tell her it was my choice. And that I’m… I’m sorry.”
“What happens next stainsyoursoul, not Kathy’s. You walk with eyes open now,petite. And if the shine fades… if the cage door clangs shut and you want an escape… You find me.Toujours,” Janey said and kissed her on the left and right cheek. A benediction. A warning.
Pinkie remained silent, her expression carved from sorrow.“Don’t do this, child,”she said softly. “Even if JB is different from the others, his sisters and brothers won’t be. This is another dead end.”
“Hush now,” Janey said to Pinkie. “Her choice is made. We all get to make our own choices! And we all have our scars to bear. It’s time she got hers. It’ll make her strong.”
Pinkie shook her head.
“JB knows not to go too far,” Janey shrugged. “He knows who I am and what I am, even if he is too scared to say it aloud.”
Willa walked over and hugged Pinkie. She hugged her tightly. “I’ma be okay, Pinkie, this is what I want,”she whispered, thetruth raw and stark.“Even poison tastes sweet when you’re starving.”
She let her go and hurried away.
Outside, Jean-Baptiste leaned against his sleek convertible, haloed by streetlight. His smile, when he saw her, was a masterpiece of boyish charm. Janey watched from the doorway, a specter in black. Pinkie stood beside her, a silent statue.
JB opened the passenger door with a flourish. Willa slid in, the leather cool against her legs. As the engine purred to life, JB turned. His eyes met Janey’s across the manicured lawn.
He tipped his hat.“Madame Boanno,merci.”
Janey didn’t blink. Her returning nod wasn’t acknowledgment—it was a promise. A line drawn in blood that only they could see. The car pulled away, carrying Willa toward the glittering, gilded dark.
Pinkie shut the heavy door. The click of the lock echoed like a tomb sealing.
“You set that poor girl up, Janey. You and I both know that a Thibodeux wouldn’t dare touch anyone near you without permission. Why did you give her to him? You need another cause? Another righteous reason to kill a man again? That poor girl has no hope with those demons.”
Janey went to the window and stared into the night where the taillights had vanished.“Non.But she might survivebecoming. And that…ma chère… is the only paradise we get—learning to survive. I hate the innocent living unaware of the darkness. Scars don’t have to heal. They can make a woman stronger. My mama taught me that.”
Janey looked at Pinkie. “Now you stay out of it, Pinkie. I’ll deal with Kathy. I gave you a chance to make Willa stay. She made her choice! You live with it. You hear!”
Pinkie looked at Janey, heartbroken. She watched her waltz back up the stairs and return to Carmine’s arms. Defeated, Pinkie turned away in tears.
CHAPTER 16
DEBBIE’S PLACE - HARLEM 1978
Present.Matteo's Lincoln Continental screeched to the curb. He was out before it fully stopped. His soldiers held every corner that mattered in Harlem now, watching everything. A crew maintained round-the-clock surveillance on the Freeman brownstone—Janey hadn't arrived, Sandra had already been taken by Junior.
Matteo’s heart hammered against his ribs like a machine gun as he reached Debbie's salon and found the steel security gate pulled down, the "CLOSED" sign mocking him through the bulletproof glass.
He'd told her to lock herself inside and wait for him. A wise woman, who finally started to listen.
Fumbling for his keys with hands that trembled slightly—not from fear, but from barely controlled rage—he thought about Caesar breaking that locksmith's jaw just three days after his return from prison. Debbie had refused to see him. He had a remedy for that. Whether Debbie liked it or not, she could never keep him from her again. Never keep him from protecting what was his. So the locksmith got him keys to every door to every place she owned or lived.
The lock turned with a satisfying click, unlocking the door. He stepped into the familiar sanctuary of her world—the scent of hair relaxer and expensive perfume, the gleaming chrome chairs, the mirrors that had witnessed a thousand secrets. She rushed toward him immediately, her usually flawless makeup streaked with tears, mascara painted dark rivers down her cheeks.
"Matteo!" She threw herself into his arms before he could fully close the door behind him. He locked it quickly, then wrapped her tightly against his chest, feeling her whole body shake with suppressed hysteria.
"What happened? What did that crazy bitch say to you?" His voice was deadly calm, but his mind was already calculating how many different ways he could make Janey Boanno disappear.
