Page 16 of Cannon
Javi never understood her. Esperanza is seriously ill and she knows she’s not supposed to be drinking. I don’t know what triggered this episode, but I was determined to get to the bottom of it.
She had her first bout of mania as a preteen. One minute she was even-tempered, and the next, it was like something had taken over her. She stayed up for days, talked a mile a minute, and had boundless energy. She was convinced she was asuperstar and that Javi and I were holding her back from living out her destiny. At just twelve years old, she ran away, trying to make it to Los Angeles. Luckily, Javi’s friends on the force were able to track her down in time.
I knew then what it was. Mania. Bipolar disorder. It ran on my side of the family, but he didn’t want to accept it. Claimed I was exaggerating. Said she just needed discipline. Said I was too soft, too indulgent, too busy running a strip club to raise a daughter right.
He thought if he prayed hard enough, she’d be healed. I thought if I loved her hard enough, she wouldn’t shatter.
We were both wrong, because she’s gotten worse. She started experimenting with drugs in high school, then became very promiscuous. Not to mention the credit cards she opened and maxed out with her insane shopping sprees.
I’ve only paid her tuition and forced her to get a part-time job. I also insisted that she see a therapist and stay on her medication, but somewhere along the way, something went wrong.
I was out of ideas on how to help my child, but I wasn’t ready to give up on her.
Last night when I had that drink at the bar, I just wanted to calm my nerves. My daughter’s condition and my mother have left me with crippling anxiety.
I’ve taken things for it, here and there. But I hate the way it makes me feel. So, I power through. Breathe. Pray. Hide when I need to. Drink a little. Smoke some weed. It doesn’t stop the panic attacks, but it helps me manage.
As I blended out my contour, my mind wandered to the man from last night.
He was a nice little distraction. Cannon. I didn’t want to remember his name. Didn’t want to replay that low, deep voiceor the way he stood over that bartender like trouble wrapped in a fine-ass package.
I remembered the way his icy blue eyes looked at me. It wasn’t that he was just trying to fuck, but like he was studying me. Like he was trying to figure out what I was made of. Perhaps he already knew.
Men look at me all the time. Half of Harlem’s either scared of me or wants to screw me. But Cannon? He wasn’t scared. And he wasn’t pressed.
He was big dick energy personified. And not many men get my attention. Barely any of them do.
And that’s what made him dangerous.
He had that energy I tried to avoid. The kind that would have you wrapped up in the sheets ruining your life. I didn’t have time for him. I had enough chaos with ZaZa. And enough weight on my shoulders with keeping Sylk afloat.
But the way he said my name?
I liked it.
Hated that I liked it.
Wondered if he’d show up today. Hoped he wouldn’t. Hoped he would.
ZaZa’s scream echoed down the hallway before I even made it past the nurses’ station.
“Get the fuck off me!”
I broke into a run, heels clicking hard against the linoleum, my heart slamming in my chest like a warning bell. Two nurses were struggling to hold her down through the tiny reinforced window of her room, her limbs flailing, mouth frothing with rage and panic.
“She woke up combative,” one of them said, breathless, trying to restrain her without causing injury.
“She’s my daughter,” I snapped, already pushing past them. “Let me in.”
One of the nurses hesitated, then buzzed the lock.
The second I stepped inside, the energy shifted. ZaZa’s head snapped toward me, eyes wild, pupils blown wide from whatever cocktail they’d given her last night.
“You,” she growled, venom dripping from her tongue. “You did this shit.”
She was strapped down, wrists bound to the rails of the bed, but she thrashed like she was ready to rip the walls apart. Her hair was a mess, her face slick with sweat, but she still looked like my baby. My baby with a monster riding her back.
“ZaZa, calm down?—”
