Page 29 of Wings of Ebony
I think.
I move toward the opposite end of the shop and pull Tasha in front of me, gently pushing her toward the door. I don’t know who he is or why he keeps staring, but he’s carrying a gun and that’s enough for me to get out of here. I take one more long look at him. He’s white, I think. His dark hair is long but tidy, hanging just past hiscollar. Bet no one would guess Mister Buttoned-Up Shirt Tucked in His Slacks is packing heat.
His head is swiveling back around my way when I slip through the door.
“What happened?” Tasha looks over her shoulder as I push her to keep it moving.
“Nothing. I don’t know. Just got a bad feeling in there.” My breath picks up with our pace. I’m probably being paranoid. Texas is an open carry state. “Some dude in khakis was looking at us one too many times.”
“Khakis and a button-up?” she asks. “Dark jacket?” She must have seen him too.
“Yeah, I—”
“Uhh, him?” She throws a glance over her shoulder and my heart stops.
The coffee shop door gives a faint chime as it closes behind us and there he is, taking a stroll in our direction.
“Faster.” I pull her by the elbow and cross the street, walk-running.It’s just a coincidence. It’s just a coincidence.I don’t know if that’s the truth or if I’m praying it is.
He crosses the street too.
Shit! Shit! Shit!
What does this dude want with us? His complexion says he ain’t Ghizoni. At least I don’t think he is, but heisa ways away.
We turn another corner.
A few minutes later, he does too.
“Aunt Melba’s old house is ’round here. We need to get off these streets.” I cut a left, picking up my pace, and Tasha keeps up. Herounds the corner behind us and I pick up even more speed. I can hardly get a word out from being out of breath.
“Aunt Melba dead, Rue.”
“I know, but Neesha ’nem ain’t done nothing with the house.” A good amount of distance is between us and him now, but still my knees shake. He isdefinitelyfollowing us. Too many twists and turns for this to be happenstance.
We gotta lose him before getting close to Aunt Melba’s.
“This way.” I turn down an alley, heart hammering in my chest. The sun disappears. Brick towers on either side of us and the backs of shops stretch ahead as far as I can see. Pairs of dumpsters every couple of buildings send a smell of rotten raw meat to my nose. As much as I hate wedging there, hiding between those two dumpsters is probably our best bet.
“Down here.” I crouch low, pulling Tasha to join me. She crouches beside me and I shove her behind me a bit.
A door claps shut and Tasha yelps.
I wrap a hand over her mouth. “Quiet,” I whisper.
Footsteps patter in our direction. A dumpster creaks open and a soft voice mutters something, then grunts, and the metal box clangs in response. Just someone throwing away trash, thank goodness.
Done, the stranger turns to go back inside I guess, because the sound of footsteps grows faint. But a deep voice cuts in.
“You see some girls come this way?”
It’s him.
“N-no, I-I s-sure didn’t. I-I was just taking out my trash. I own that there salon.”
I pull Tasha in to me, her eyes wide as saucers.
“You don’t sound real sure,” he says.
