Page 70 of The Killer Cupcake
Her mother's last words surfaced, and suddenly she understood what Brenda and Henry had found before the end. Peace. Real peace. Not this endless war they called love.
She turned the handle.
What waited inside stole her breath.
1952 - Memphis,Tennessee
"Here, sweetie, drink this."
The voice pulled Kathy from the void. For a heartbeat, she saw Big Mama's face—all that worn kindness and strength. But her vision cleared, and it was someone else—another woman who knew how to gather broken girls.
Kathy sat up trembling, her mind in pieces. The cup shook in her hands as she sipped something bittersweet with honey that burned away the taste of betrayal.
"What's your name, baby?"
"Kathy, ma'am."
"Well, Kathy, I don't know what all that was about, but you're safe now. Nobody comes through that door unless Kathy says so. They call me Mabel."
"I need—" Kathy's voice cracked. "I need a ticket home."
"Where's home?"
A knock rattled the door. Kathy flinched hard, pressing back against the headboard.
"Ma, some men here asking after Kathy," came a young voice.
"Please don't let them in. Please!" Kathy. pleaded.
"Shh, now." Mabel's hands were steady on her shoulders. "Who are these men? Tell me true, child. Can't protect what I don't understand."
"They're—they want—" Kathy couldn't form the words. "They're bad people. I just need to get on the next bus home. Just a ticket. Please."
"Don't you worry, sugar." Mabel pulled her close, solid as a fortress. "Mabel's got you. We'll get you back to your people."
"What's taking them so long?"Matteo grunted and paced.
Carmine leaned against his car. He watched the young Ricci vibrate with barely contained violence. His own body ached from wrestling Janey into submission. He'd left strangers watching his wife—that couldn't hold. He needed to get back before she hurt someone or herself. But the Marcellos owned him now. Whatever independence he'd had, Janey's poison had dissolved it. Carmelo had to fight, which meant Kathy had to come with them.
"Go in and get her," Matteo demanded. “The fuck are we standing out here holding our dicks for!”
Carmine's gaze slid to Matteo and his boys. A bunch of Sicilians causing trouble outside a Negro hotel—they might as well paint targets on their backs.
"Shut your mouth, boy,” Carmine said, voice like gravel.
Matteo's eyes narrowed, but he held his tongue.
Carmine pushed off the car, holding the younger man's stare until Matteo looked away. Then the hotel door opened. A silver-haired woman built like a battleship emerged, shotgun cradled like a baby, her men flanking her.
"You got ten seconds to get your narrow asses away from the Douglass or I'm putting holes in you and feeding what's left to my hogs."
"Ma'am, we only want to talk?—"
She swung the gun toward Matteo. Carmine rolled his eyes. The fool would get his head blown off and all of them strung up if someone didn't intervene.
"Point that rifle at me." Carmine leaned heavily on his cane. "I'm in charge here."
Mabel pivoted, leveling the shotgun at his chest. One twitch and he'd be done. Part of him would welcome it. “Well, that ain’t, so mister. You’re on the wrong side of the tracks. This is Mabel’s territory.”
