Page 13 of The Hellcat Barbies: Saskia
Watching the smile on her face made me smile. I felt a flutter in my chest that made me reach up and rub it. When she went back to her car to stand at the side to pose with her trophy, that smile of mine fell, and those flutters turned into a beating heart. I’d let her be because she wouldn’t fit in my world with everything she was harboring. This time, though, there was no getting away. I probably would have faded into the backgroundand let her be again, but the sticker on her side window had me nearly pushing motherfuckers down to get to her.
Gun in hand, heart thumping in my chest, I stood in front of her, ruining her picture and causing her smile to drop. Her expression went from confused to mortified as it fucking should have.
“Ima ask you a question and you bet not tell me no.”
Tossing my head at the sticker on her window, not the one that said 'Hellcat Barbie,' but the one that read'Baby on board,' I squared my shoulders.
Her answer would depend on if my gun ended this little shindig.
“Did you have my fucking baby?”
Chapter Four
SOMETHING BORROWED
Saskia “Sass” Coy
A few hours earlier…
“How are you gone be late to the race, though?”
Pinning the phone to my ear with my shoulder while reaching on the floor of my car to grab the Walmart bag, Canada yelled nonsense in my ear.
“How am I late when it’s eight in the morning and the race isn't for some hours, Can?”
With the three Walmart bags now in hand, I remained seated, watching the house in front of me. The lawn was well-kept, but the dew from the new day caused a shine on the grass, reminding me to use the walkway so I wouldn’t slip and fall.The last thing I needed was to be nursing bruises and calling off from my job. As demanding as it was, I loved being able to live my dreams even though I’d wished I were employed at another hospital.
“I’m just saying shit. You could have gone to Walmart last night.”
When I got off work at six, the first thing I did was come here and then take my ass home. After baths and mouths werestuffed, I was knocked out until my alarm went off this morning to be right back over here.
“I had to go to Walmart. That was the least I could do. Mrs. Jean asked me this morning to grab her some pinto beans and neckbones, so I came here first and then went back up to Walmart up the road.”
“Neckbones and Pinto beans? Girl! What the hell? The only things she cooks is ravioli and oatmeal. The microwave kind. The hell she gone do with some pinto beans?”
Standing outside the car, I pulled my scrubs from my crotch and headed to the front door, leaving the engine rumbling. The neighborhood was so quiet that I almost felt bad about leaving the car idling. But it didn’t make sense not to, I’d be in and out.
“It’s not for her. She mentioned her neighbor.” I whispered even though I was outside.
“Awl okay. Yeah, I had a plate from Ms. Debbie. She can throw down.”
Rolling my eyes, I paused at the door, refraining from ringing the doorbell because I knew Mrs. Jean would see me on camera.
“Well, I’m going to be on time. I’ll see you later.”
“Okay, and remember, you got this Frieeend! I just might tamper with your opponent’s tires so you can really have that shit in the bag.” Canada was the type to do some crazy ass shit like that.
“Bye girl.”
“Byeee. Give my mook moonk a kiss for me.”
“I hate that fucking nickname. Sound too close to monkey,” I frowned.
“Well ohh ohh ahh ahh bitch. Do what I said.”
Canada disconnected the line just as the front door opened. I smiled warmly at my second lifeline. Mrs. Jean was Canada’s auntie and had been my everything. When I arrived a year ago, I was lost and scared. I didn’t know what my next move would be.I’d driven until my eyes were tired, and Diamond Cove, North Carolina, just happened to be where I’d grown hungry. Stopping at a diner off the coast with stunning views of the ocean, I wasn’t seated five minutes before Canada came over and hugged me. She’d been the third stranger in less than forty-eight hours that I had found some comfort in.
Canada, although named after the country, wasn’t truly Canadian. In fact, she was a wealthy, street-smart realtor with major connections in the city. She’d been named after her parents’ honeymoon destination, where she’d been conceived. Everybody knew Canada, and Canada knew everybody. She helped me rent a place using false documents. I loved my two-bedroom townhome, which was close enough to the beach but far enough to avoid the beach prices. I remembered telling her I only needed a one-bedroom, but since the price of two was actually cheaper than one—which was absurd—I took it. I knew I didn’t need the space, but I wanted to save money.
