HUNTER (The Corbin Brothers Book 1) (44 page)

Angry, desperate tears were rolling down my face. “You want me to pack up my shit and just leave now, in the middle of the night, like Jazz did?” I demanded. “That how you do your girls, Mama, sending them out on the streets all bloodied up from your business?”

I was fishing for anything, anything to break that businesswoman’s façade, to make her experience any kind of human emotion that wasn’t linked to her greed, but it fell well short. I wondered if there was anything in the world that could make Mama human anymore.

“You can leave in the morning,” she said. “First thing. You can pack up and say your goodbyes to everyone after their shift ends. You’ll stay up here, of course. You’re through working.”

I set my jaw even though it hurt to do so. “And what about my money?” I asked, turning to a topic I knew Mama would better grasp. “I’ll be needing all of it.”

She shook her head. “I’m putting the bulk of it toward damage control,” she said. “You’ve cost me hundreds of dollars tonight just having to buy people booze. Now I’m going to have to pay off the NYPD again, maybe even the DA’s office. Those fuckers are expensive.”

“I have worked here for years,” I said, my voice as sharp as knives. “I know for a fact that you’ll have money of mine leftover, even if you do have to make all those payments.”

“Maybe a couple hundred,” Mama said.

I laughed without a trace of humor. “More like a couple thousand.”

“Who do you think is doing the books here, girl?” she spat. “I know how much money you have now, after you repay the damage you’ve done to this nightclub, and it is not in the thousands.”

“It is in the thousands,” I said, lifting my chin. “And it will be if you want me to leave quietly. Otherwise, you’re guaranteed a shit show. Bring on the tabloids.”

It was Mama’s turn to laugh. “Oh, my Cocoa,” she said, shaking her head. “You’re a snake biting into my heel the moment I try to walk away.”

“I learned from the best,” I said.

“I’ll have Blue bring up two grand for you after the shift,” Mama said, turning her back to me and walking out into the hallway. “You’re dead to me, girl. I never want to hear from you again, no matter what kind of trouble you find yourself in. And if you show up here at the nightclub, that dead part will become a reality.”

I bristled at Mama’s threats, knowing full well she had the connections and money to make them viable. But I didn’t say a word as she walked down the hallway and down the stairs, knowing she was probably busy stitching together a smile she could wear for the rest of the night.

Getting the money was a twisted little victory, but I still felt the rest of the loss. I was losing a home, a job, and friends all at the same time. I would be thrust into the world tomorrow morning without hope of finding a place to live or way to earn a living.

It was hard to fight off the feeling of hopelessness.

Taking a deep breath, I set my shoulders before retrieving my rolling suitcase from the space it had occupied underneath the bed ever since I started living in the boarding house. I’d never had any use for it until now.

And at least I had it, I told myself. At least I was going to go out better than Jazz went out, bloody and with only the uniform on her back after the beating she took. I would have clothes and money. It would be morning. I hadn’t nearly died.

It was going to be okay, I told myself, because it had to be.

Before I started packing, I took out the letter that Jazz had sent to me just a few short months ago. I kept it tucked away in my dresser drawer. It had come as a surprise, bundled into other letters. I hadn’t heard anything from her after she had fled, assuming the worst. But the letter gave me hope — hope that if Jazz could make it, I could, too.

"Dear Cocoa," it read. "I want to start off by saying how sorry I was to leave the nightclub the way I did. Tracy messed me up so bad, and I was sure my only option was to escape. It wasn't fair for me to leave without saying goodbye or thank you for all that you did for me at the nightclub.

"I know that you had my best interests in mind and were always looking out for me. You're a real friend. The truth is that I was never cut out for the life that you're leading. I just wasn't going to survive.

"Well, as this letter proves, I am surviving. In fact, I'm doing more than surviving. The year after I left Mama's was maybe the hardest year of my life. Long story short, I'm HIV positive.

"HIV isn't a death sentence. I have to be careful, of course, and always take my medicine on time. But I'll die a happy old woman, which is how I want to go.

"I met this amazing guy, Nate King. He's a writer — and my boyfriend — and he's been so good for me, Cocoa. He's the reason I'm doing as well as I am. I never knew love could be like this. I never had any reason to believe in it.

"Now, I'm focusing on giving back to the community. When I turned up at Mama's, I was  in need of help. When I left there, I was still in need. I know that I can do more for people in similar situations as mine, and that's what I'm doing. I'm also CEO of a cancer research foundation, an issue that's pretty close to my heart.

"The reason I'm writing is because I never stopped thinking about you and everything you did for me. You deserve to know that, through your intervention and others’, I'm doing better than I ever have before. I don't know what would've happened to me without you. Thank you so much.

"And, if you ever want to part with any of that money you're making, I know a couple of good charities that would benefit. Let me know.

"I miss you and hope you're doing well. You're good at what you do now, but I know you'd be good at anything. You have such a kind, giving nature. Don't ever feel like you're stuck in a situation you don't want to be in. Just keep moving forward.

"That's how I got out.

"You stay in my thoughts. Love, Jasmine."

I took a deep breath. So much had happened to Jazz, but she’d come out okay on the other side. I could do this. This was nothing.

I started packing, shaking my head at the sheer volume of fine lingerie I’d accumulated during my time at the nightclub. Mama was adamant about no raggedy underwear whatsoever. I was able to get most of my clothes in the suitcase even though it bulged when I forced the zipper shut. I left my remaining uniforms on the dresser.

I wouldn’t be needing those anymore.

Everything else I shoved into a tote bag, letters, cards, photos of us girls goofing off. Things that meant something to me, that would remind me of the good times I did have at the nightclub.

I took a shower before wrapping my toiletries in a plastic bag and putting them down in the tote. I laid out a pair of jeans, panties, bra, and shirt for tomorrow.

Tomorrow. The day I wouldn’t live here anymore.

I braided my hair, my fingers fumbling at my wiry strands. I knew that I had to be strong, like Jazz, but it was so hard. How could I leave all of this? I had been with Mama for so many years I didn’t know how else to be anymore. How could I function out there in the regular world?

A hurried knock sounded on my door. Confused, I opened it. It was too early for the shift to be over.

A breathless Blue stood at my threshold, clutching a thick envelope.

“Mama says to tell you that if you want to leave quietly, the time is now,” she recited, “and to give you this.”

I took the envelope and pulled it open, quickly counting the bills it contained.

Blue’s eyes grew big. “How much money is in there?” she asked.

“Enough to shut me up and get me out of here,” I said, shutting the envelope and pushing it into my purse.

“What’s going on?” she asked, her lips trembling.

I shed my kimono and got dressed as fast as I could, not caring that Blue saw me naked. We were closer than sisters.

“Mama has decided I’m a threat to the nightclub because of tonight’s incident,” I said. “She told me I could leave in the morning, but then I screwed her out of cash.”

Blue gasped. “Oh, Cocoa.” Even she knew how serious it was to make Mama part with cash that she didn’t want to give up.

“I’d hoped to say goodbye to everyone,” I said, “but it looks like Mama might exact her threats if I stay here much longer.”

“She threatened you?” Blue asked, gaping. “How serious was what happened down there tonight?”

“It’s bad,” I said, explaining what had happened as I finished getting ready, lacing up some sneakers. In my head, I kept chanting a litany of positives, trying to psyche myself up. At least it’s not winter, at least you have the money, at least you have your things, at least you have your life.

“But where are you going to go?” Blue asked. “It’s the middle of the night and you have all your things! It’s not safe!”

“It’s not safe here,” I said. “I have to take my chances out there.”

Blue’s face lit up. “I have someone — a friend — who needed a roommate,” she said, running out of the hallway and down to her room. “I’m getting her address!”

Blue’s bright light — we could always count on her to make a joke out of anything, lighten the mood with just a word. Now, she was giving me hope for my future.

Blue came barreling out of her room, holding up a torn sheet of paper. “She lives on the other side of town, but you could get a cab to the nearest subway station,” she said, her words tumbling from her mouth as quickly as she could shove them out. This was a new side of Blue to me — she was usually calm and slow spoken, her words drawled more often than not.

“I’ll call one,” I said, turning to the door and stopping short.

Mama was standing there, pointing a small pistol at me. I knew from experience in my old neighborhood that it wasn’t the size of the pistol that mattered. It was the size of the bullet that hit you and where. The trick was not to get shot in the first place.

Blue saw me hesitate and turned around, too, just in time to duck as Mama fired a shot.

“You were my best girl!” she howled, firing a second time. “And now you’re robbing me blind!”

A third shot ricocheted close to us.

“Go,” Blue said, shoving the piece of paper into my hand. “She’ll kill you.”

“She’ll kill us both,” I said, my head covered with one of my hands.

“She’s only angry with you,” Blue reasoned. “Go. Tell Casey I said hi, and that I sent you. I’ll try to give her a call to let her know you’re coming.”

Mama started coming down the hallway at us, another shot making us throw ourselves against the walls. A single tendril of smoke floated up from the carpet, a bullet hole marring the ply.

Mama was blocking the only exit. I knew I had to go out through my bedroom window even though we were up on the second floor. It was that or death.

Blue and I made our moves at the same time. She held her hands up and approached Mama, sliding along down the wall. I slid into my room, grabbing my suitcase, tote bag, and purse.

“Don’t shoot, Mama,” Blue called. “The cops are gonna come back, now, if we keep this up, and you know how that’ll turn out — two calls in one night.”

Blue was appealing to Mama’s sense of reason, but was it even intact anymore? Was it ever? There was no way to tell, and I had to go.

I heaved the window open and looked down. The dumpster was positioned almost just below my window, the cover open. I could see black trash bags from the nightclub inside.

Would they break my fall? I dropped my suitcase down, judging the bounce it gave when it hit the dumpster. My tote bag was the next to go. I strapped my purse securely across my body, beneath my shirt to make sure I wouldn’t lose it in the fall. It contained my hope — cash and the address to Blue’s friend’s place. I couldn’t lose it.