Embittered Ruby (16 page)

M
EET ME AT THE CORNER OF
M
AIN AND
E
AST CAMDEN AT NOON TODAY
.

Carmen stood at the kitchen counter and spooned Cheerios into her mouth. She read the text message from Hillary McConnell for what had to be the hundredth time. It wasn’t even a question. More like a direct order. Who did that woman think she was to order Carmen around? If she weren’t so curious about what Hillary had to say, Carmen wouldn’t even consider going.

Would Nate know what was going on? And if he did know, why hadn’t he clued her in last night? Carmen looked at the time on her cell phone display. Oh man. She couldn’t even ask Nate about what his mother was up to because he was in class until two o’clock. Six more hours until she had any hope of speaking with him. And the meeting would be long past.

Had Hillary timed it to coincide with Nate’s schedule on purpose, knowing he was unreachable during class time? Or was it a lucky coincidence? Knowing her, it was no accident. She calculated every move she made. And she always came out on top. That meant Nate had no idea what his mother was doing. She was up to no good.

Carmen’s stomach rolled. More morning sickness, or pure dread? Probably both. She hurried to the bathroom and pulled the door closed. How many hours had she logged in there that month? Carmen perched in her usual spot on the edge of the tub. Too bad Mom hadn’t left for work already so Carmen could stay there until the meeting if she had to.

She didn’t have far to walk. Hillary could have picked an address on the other side of the tracks where the neighborhoods weren’t quite as dicey. But instead she’d chosen a location too close to where Carmen lived for it to have been a fluke. Hey, where had Hillary gotten Carmen’s address anyway? Hillary would come face-to-face with the truth about Carmen’s new life. She’d prove her worst suspicions to be fact.

Now Carmen had to decide if she’d show up or not. It would require ditching school, but school didn’t matter much to Carmen anymore. They couldn’t do anything to her now. She’d probably go meet Hillary out of simple curiosity—she had to know what Hillary wanted. But Carmen would have to be on guard. Hillary McConnell didn’t do anything without a well-orchestrated plan that resulted in her coming out on top. And she was the type who would stop at nothing to get what she wanted. Carmen couldn’t let that happen.

A light rap on the bathroom door jolted Carmen from her thoughts. “You okay in there? You’re going to be late for school if you don’t get moving.”

Carmen flushed the toilet and stood up from her posture of worship at the throne of morning sickness. “I’ll be right out.” She flipped on the water and scrubbed her hands then reached for her toothbrush and toothpaste. Yuck. Barfing every morning was sure getting old.

As she brushed, Carmen inspected her splotchy face in the mirror. She’d have to raid Mom’s Mary Kay bins before she left the apartment so small children didn’t shy away in horror at her ghostlike appearance. Maybe it was time to ask for her own set of the good makeup—not that cheap stuff she sometimes used. Mom would jump at the chance to see Carmen all glammed out.

Poking her head out the doorway, Carmen looked both ways. Best to avoid Mom if at all possible because, unless Carmen was imagining things, Mom had been looking at her funny lately.

Now, where was Mom?

Click. Click. Click
. The stove’s gas flame must have caught. Someone flipped on the faucet in the kitchen and let the water run. Sounded like Mom was bustling in there, which meant Carmen could sneak out of the bathroom without any conversation. She slipped from her spot in the doorway and hurried into Mom’s bedroom then jogged to the dresser where Mom put on her face every day.

Falling to her knees, Carmen lifted the lid on a Rubbermaid bin and fumbled through more bottles of promise and tubes of hope than any one person could use in a lifetime. Got to love the Mary Kay discount. Carmen knocked over the one tub missing a lid, and a cloud of powder puffed to her face. Sputtering, she swiped the plume away and reached for the foundation. Where were those little wedge spongy things?

Ah-ha
. Carmen reached into a Ziploc bag, pushed aside the gunky used sponges, and grabbed a clean one. She tried to squirt the makeup onto the edge, just like she’d seen Mom do, but nothing came out of the almost-empty tube. Carmen rolled the end like a tube of toothpaste and held the hole up as she squeezed.

In a quick spurt, the makeup shot out over the wedge, dripped down to the avocado countertop, and splattered on the gold rug.

Oh no. Not now. Nothing ever went smoothly for her.

Carmen grabbed a handful of cotton balls to tackle the oily stains on the rug. No. She’d have to deal with the mess later. Sopping the sticky makeup off the Rubbermaid lid with one hand, she shoved the tubes back into the bin.

Perfection was way too much work. It didn’t matter. Nate liked her better without a lot makeup anyway. But he hadn’t seen her in a while. Would he still feel the same now that she’d taken on that pregnancy glow—which didn’t seem as
lovely
as people always claimed it was? What about when she got all fat? Would he still think she was beautiful?

On the street in front of the nail salon below their apartment, Carmen glanced in both directions. She could turn right and walk toward Giant Farmers’ Market, or she could turn left and make her way toward the assigned meeting location to scope it out.

She had no money for food, so the market would be depressing. She felt through the pockets and crevasses in her Gucci bag. Her fingers closed on a handful of coins. Plenty for a cappuccino at Java’s Brewin’. Should she even drink stuff like that right now? Wasn’t there some rule about pregnant women not drinking caffeine? Well, one cup couldn’t hurt anything. Could it? Besides, a lot of girls didn’t even find out they were pregnant until they were much further along. Surely they had coffee and did all sorts of things before they knew.

The cracks in the sidewalk passed by under her feet, and Carmen took no care to avoid them. It wasn’t like she wanted to break her mother’s back or anything, but those days of reciting rhymes and thinking some silly move would affect some sort of big change in someone else’s life were long over. Took more than stepping on a crack to get anyone’s attention these days.

Carmen spoke into her phone, “Call Nate.” Argh. Right to voice mail. He must still be in class. “Hey, I need to ask you something. If you get this between classes, call me, okay? All I need is a minute, and it really can’t wait. Thanks. Love you. Bye.”

Cool. Carmen spied an ornate stone structure across the street. Johnson Public Library. Cool-looking building, but it probably survived on nothing but castaway books from other libraries—like the one in Briarcliff. At least she could get books there though. She could always hang out in there if she needed to kill more time after her coffee. But for now the J
ava’s
B
rewin’
sign beckoned to her from the next block.

Minutes later, with her sugar-free, french-vanilla cappuccino in hand, all Carmen needed was a quiet place to figure some things out. Ah, a chair by the window. Perfect. She’d hang there for a while.

Tucking her feet under her, Carmen settled in and looked at the time on her phone. Her classmates were in second period by now. She’d have been in biology if she were in school. This was way better than school any day.

Carmen gripped her iPhone and touched the Safari icon.
Yes!
Free Wi-Fi. She dug through her bag until she found the iTunes card she’d gotten for her birthday. That was about to come in really handy. She scrolled to the icon for the app store. In the search bar, she typed
voice recorder
then waited for it to do its magic. Several free apps popped up, but the one for $1.99 had much better ratings. Plus, if it wasn’t a better app, they wouldn’t make you pay for it, right? The experiment had to work on the first try. Carmen couldn’t take any chances.

Attorney at Law? Carmen scrolled to double-check the address in the text message. Why did Hillary want to meet at a lawyer’s office? The woman was up to no good, as usual. But what could she have cooked up this time? Poor Judge McConnell—smart man, but wouldn’t have gone anywhere politically without Hillary’s games. She was a master manipulator who always got her way. Always. It even embarrassed Nate sometimes, though he rarely admitted it. Hmm. Wonder if Hillary had finally met her match.

Should Carmen go in or wait outside? She didn’t know for sure they were meeting in the office with the attorney. Maybe Hillary wanted to grab a bench and talk outside. Carmen would just hang out for a while. If Hillary didn’t show up in a few minutes, Carmen could text her.

Carmen’s eye roved the busy street around her. Equal parts shoppers and homeless people. A few cars parked near the sidewalk. One looked like it had been there for weeks with a shattered back window and a parking ticket under the wiper blades. This wasn’t the worst part of town, but a definite far cry from the landscape Hillary McConnell was used to observing from her car window.

Stepping over a wad of smeared gum, Carmen wandered to a bus-stop bench and perched on the edge, careful not to lean on the black smudges toward the back.

A haggard woman wearing two winter coats over purple pajama pants and bright-red clogs pushed a metal cart past the bench. Everything she owned in the whole world all fit in that one little cart. She glared at Carmen with sad eyes, which, judging by the clear-blue brightness and long lashes, had once been pretty. Did she sense Carmen’s disdain, or did the bag lady simply hate Carmen for her designer clothes and purse?

Don’t worry, lady. There won’t be more luxuries where these came from
. Carmen’s designer days were over. She’d thought she might get something cool from Dad for her birthday—the iTunes card from Mom wasn’t a bad gift, but it didn’t do much to keep her wardrobe replenished. Not that she’d be able to fit into her couture clothes much longer anyway.

Carmen smiled at the old woman, who grunted and shuffled away.
Click your red heels together, lady. Maybe you’ll find your way out of your mess
.

She slid the lock to the right to toggle her phone display to life. Twenty minutes late. How long did Her Highness expect Carmen to sit and wait for her? Should she text Hillary?

No. Carmen hadn’t called this meeting, yet she was on time. It wasn’t her job to hunt Hillary down. Five more minutes, and she’d leave. Maybe she’d hide around the corner so she could see Hillary’s face when she arrived only to find Carmen had left.

Four minutes later, a silver Bentley slid to the curb, its driver inching in, careful not to get too close. A tuxedoed chauffeur stepped from the driver’s side and walked around to Hillary’s door.

She hired a chauffeur? She didn’t normally use one. What nerve. How could she pull into Hackensack like the Queen of England? Way to relate to the common folks, Hill. I’m sure the senate candidate’s constituents will appreciate it.

The chauffeur reached a gloved hand down to help Mrs. McConnell to the sidewalk.

Tiptoeing as though through molten lava in shoes made of gold, Hillary grimaced at her surroundings and headed for her destination.

Give me a break
. Carmen pretended to read her text messages. No way she’d give Hillary the satisfaction of reacting to her display or even appearing to notice. One last swipe of her finger to turn the recorder on, and Carmen slipped her phone into her loose jacket pocket, where there’d be no risk of it being bumped or jostled off. “Oh, hello, Mrs. McConnell. I was just about to leave—figured I had the wrong time or something.”

“I’m glad you were able to meet me. Though I assume you skipped school to do it.” Hillary turned her nose up.

There was just no pleasing her. “I didn’t choose the time.” Carmen steeled herself against Hillary.

“Our appointment is right in here.” Mrs. McConnell lifted her chin and led the way into the brick building. Once inside, they climbed a wooden staircase to the second floor, where a placard on a wooden door read H
orace
C. B
rowning
, A
ttorney at
L
aw
.