Page 2 of Savannah Royals
My stomach lurched, a howl strangling in my throat. Paul grabbed a tuft of my hair, winding his fist in tight to keep me silent. With every breath, sulfuric damp and grit filled my nose. Like rotten eggs.
“Fucking waste of a woman. She’s young and look at that hair—we could’ve made a fortune off her.”
“Fellas don’t pay shit for dope-fiends. You know that. Check the snuffboxes, see if there’s any powder left.”
“Empty. Figures.” One set of footsteps started walking away. “Look, there’s something in the corner.” He bent down and picked up Mr. Wiggles. I’d left the toy bear by the wall where I’d sunk down so many hours earlier. Paul’s grip tightened again.
“Think she had a brat?”
“I don’t see one.”
“If the kid has half a brain, they’ve scampered. Orphanage has too many mouths, and everyone knows it.”
“If she’s got that red hair, she’ll be better off at the orphanage than down here.”
“True.” The man dropped Mr. Wiggles, and I let out a quiet breath. They were leaving.
We waited in silence for almost ten minutes before Paul released his grip on me.
“I don’t want to go to the orphanage, Paul,” I whispered. “I don’t have to go, right? I don’t have Mama’s red hair. I’ll be safe here.”
“You don’t have to go anywhere, Kitty-Kat. You can come with me.”
“Can Mr. Wiggles come too?”
“Sure.” Paul walked over to pick up the bear. “But we need to go now, before another round of raids comes. Can you be quiet and brave? Can you be a wolf, Kitty-Kat?”
“Yes,” I said proudly. Playing wolves was one of our favorite games.
Paul’s hideout wasn’t far from the entrance to the Combs, but it was hard to reach. You had to crawl upward to a side alcove, then through a crack in the ceiling. Paul had been there for as long as I’d known him.
“Home sweet home,” he crowed, dragging me into his den.
I was surprised to see two boys, dirty and displaced, huddled together inside.
“Mierda! Who the hell is this, Paul?” one of them asked, jumping to his feet. He spoke with an accent, but it was hard to say where from. You could find all sorts in the Combs.
“Tony, this is Katarina,” Paul said. “She needs a place to stay.”
“Kat,” I corrected.
“She sure as hell ain’t staying here.” Tony crossed his golden-brown arms. “No girls allowed in the pack.”
“My pack, my rules,” Paul said. “You don’t like it, you can leave.”
“I ain’t leavin’. I was here first,” Tony argued. “Come on Paul, she’s agirl…and a gringa, to boot! She’ll be useless. Deadweight.”
“You’re so dumb, Tony.” High color rose in Paul’s pale cheeks as he stormed over to the boy and poked him in the chest. Hard. “In a couple of years, she’s gonna be worth fifty of you.”
“We’ll see about that.” Tony slumped back to the ground. With narrowed eyes, he nodded sharply and pointed at me. “You can share Paul’s corner. Don’t come anywhere near mine.”
“Four corners, four people,” I told him, proud of myself for counting. “I’ll take my own, thank you very much.”
And with as much dignity as I could muster, I clutched my bear to my chest, tipped my nose in the air, and pranced over to the empty spot.
Paul stifled a laugh. “She’s something, ain’t she?”
“Yeah. She’s…something,” Tony muttered.
