Page 45 of The Killer Cupcake
The raw vulnerability in that plea undid something fundamental in Kathy's anger. She slumped back into her chair as Carmine stood with fluid grace, adjusting his fedora. He pressed a protective kiss to Pinkie's temple—the gesture bothtender and submissive—then walked away with the aid of his cane.
“I’m not staying unless you tell me how Willa is. Where is Willa?" Kathy demanded the moment they were alone. "Is she even still breathing?"
Pinkie dabbed at her streaming tears with a delicate lace handkerchief, her composure fracturing like fine crystal.
"My cousin works in the Thibodeaux kitchens, has for years. She's been watching over Willa as best she can."
"You've actually seen Willa?” Kathy gasped.
"Can't get anywhere near her,chère. Thibodeaux land is a fortress disguised as a sanctuary—high walls, armed men who work for the family, secrets buried deeper than any roots." Pinkie's voice grew softer, more troubled. "But my cousin sees her sometimes... walking the gardens on Jean-Baptiste's arm. Smiling at something, he whispered. Letting him hold her hand like they're courting properly. He doesn’t bring her in around the family. She is kept there in one of the cottages for him.”
Kathy's palm cracked against the table with enough force to rattle the delicate coffee cups and silence nearby conversations.
“Kept or a prisoner? That man is taking advantage of her, tricking her. I told you she came to Butts as a little kid, traumatized; she didn’t even talk. We don’t know her real age or birthday. He’s hurting her!"
Pinkie's gaze held steady.
"We warned her, Kathy. That night, Janey and I told her everything, how wealthy men of privilege like J.B. collect beautiful dark-skinned girls like exotic dolls for their amusement, how the Thibodeaux fortune was built on sugar and suffering, on the broken backs of enslaved people who looked exactly like us, how that same family hurt me. And when they inevitably tire of their playthings and discard them when the fun fades."
Kathy went completely still. This wasn't the story Janey had told her at all.
"And Willa? What she say?” Kathy asked.
Pinkie was slow to respond.
“Did she believe you? Understand?” Kathy asked.
“She said she'd rather swallow sweet poison in New Orleans than starve slowly on empty hope in Mississippi, that she was tired of being invisible, of not mattering to anyone. She wanted to be seen—truly seen—even if it was all a lie.”
The truth hit Kathy hard, stealing the breath from her lungs.
Her own tears came then, hot and bitter.Invisible.Willa had named the wound they all carried.
"Why didn't you wake me that night?" Kathy asked. "Why didn't you give me a chance to talk her out of it?"
Pinkie reached across the chipped tabletop, her touch surprised Kathy at how comforting it felt.
"Would it have mattered,ma douce? Janey told me about your history and her trip to New York. When you ran to Carmelo despite every warning, every obstacle—did any voice of reason stop you?" Her smile was sad. "Some hungers drown out everything else, even good sense.”
Kathy’s heart broke then—for Willa's naive courage, for her own mirrored recklessness, for all the women who'd chosen dangerous love over safe emptiness.
"Will he hurt her?" Kathy asked.
Pinkie's answer was carefully measured, brutally honest.
"Carmine made certain arrangements before she left. Her body will remain safe—Jean-Baptiste knows the consequences of damaging what's under protection. Her heart? Her mind? Her spirit?” Pinkie gave a helpless shrug. "When he inevitably tires of her, she'll come home to us. Changed, raw with shame perhaps, but alive. That’s been my experience.”
“But he could love her, right? Like, Carmelo loves me? Is it possible?” Kathy pleaded. “They could actually be in love.”
Pinkie shook his head slowly. “I’ve known of Jean Baptiste since we were kids. Never seen him love anybody but himself. She will survive him.”
"And that's supposed to be enough? Surviving?” Kathy choked out.
"Survival is the first victory for girls like us,chère. Everything else is luxury we can't always afford."
A weighted silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken truths about their world's cruel mathematics. Then Pinkie leaned closer.”I hate to do this. To ask this. When you are so upset, but I have no choice.”
“Ask what?” asked Kathy.
