Moms Night Out (16 page)

Sondra glanced over at him and a smile rose above his long white beard, and he winked. Allyson gasped. The man was hitting on her. She wondered what Pastor Ray would say about that!

Sondra nodded to him in return and gave him a sweet church lady smile. “Hello,” she said as simply as greeting a new person who walked into church.

Bridget didn’t act so calm. She lifted her face to the ceiling, as if there was an answer there. Allyson could see her hands trembling, and her face had lost a lot of color. She stood in one place, but shifted from side-to-side as if not knowing what to do. As if worry crawled like a million ants over her skin.

“Okay, I am officially freaking out!” Bridget seemed to choke the words out.

Allyson reached out her hand and tried to calm her, but she felt the same tension tightening her own gut. “Bridget, it’s going to be okay.” She hoped her words sounded convincing. She prayed that things would get wrapped up soon and everything indeed would be okay soon.

The desk guy moved through a curtain that separated the front area from the back. His huge Afro was backlit from the light in the back room. He shook his head as he walked to them, which wasn’t a great sign. They all moved toward the counter. Bridget gripped Allyson’s arm, as if leaning on her for support.

“Okay, there is no baby back there.” He pointed his thumb behind him, toward the back. “Which is awesome. You guys had me.” He shook his head and then slowly settled back into the chair. “I thought you were from the health department or something . . .”

Bridget threw down her arms and started breathing hard. Allyson turned to her and motioned for her to breathe, to breathe.

“I thought you were going to arrest me . . .” the front desk guy was saying. “Or maybe worse, cut off my hair. Like what . . . what would happen if you cut off my hair?” He pressed his hand against the front of his hair.

Bridget turned back to the desk, placed her hands on it, and leaned forward, trying to get his attention.

“It’s okay though,” the desk guy droned on. “Bones is going to help you when he’s done. Everything’s okay.” He gave them the okay motion with his hand. “Like, we’re good.”

Allyson felt her mouth falling open. Surely he had to be joking. Hadn’t he heard what they’d said? Allyson looked to Bridget. Her face was white. It looked like she was going to faint, and Allyson wondered if she should make Bridget sit down.

Instead, Bridget straightened up and pointed a finger. “What?! I need to talk to Bones, like, right now.”

The desk guy cocked an eyebrow and then looked to her in disbelief. “You don’t rush art,” he said softly. Simply. His forehead folded in disbelief at her request.

“What is wrong with you?” the words erupted from Bridget’s mouth.

“Are you kidding me? Are you kidding me?” Allyson found herself saying. Then everyone started talking at once, and she couldn’t hear herself over the noise.

“We need to get the baby!” Allyson said, but her words were drowned out.

Bridget stood on her tiptoes, making sure her voice was heard over all the rest. “Are you hearing what everyone’s saying?” She called out and then hit her open-palmed hand on the countertop. “I’m going to call the police!” She shrugged.

The man rose to his feet again. One of the bearded guys in the waiting area also stood, and then hurried to the back. It was like a floodgate, and seeing him a whole bunch more hurried out.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, like calm down.” The desk guy motioned to all the hardened bikers who were rushing out of the front area and moving past the curtain into the back. “Look, you’re scaring everyone.” He waved his hands, clearly upset. The serene, passive look from his face had hardened into a frustrated one. “Seriously, I’m going to have to ask you to leave and take your little ‘Housewives of Ohio’ with you.”

He waved them away. “Seriously.” Then his face grew calmer again, and he pointed to Izzy. “Especially this one, she’s been eying me all night.”

Izzy’s mouth dropped open and she gasped, and then her brow furrowed.

The women stepped back from the counter. Allyson placed a hand on Bridget’s shoulder, hoping to reassure her. They weren’t going to get anywhere here—not with this guy.

“Follow me,” Sondra said, motioning to them. She waved them forward.

He pointed to Sondra and shooed them out. “Follow Mama Bear. That’s right.”

They moved to the door, and then the desk guy pointed to Izzy. “I’m just kidding . . . you’re cute.”

She snarled her nose. “I’m married!”

“I love you . . .” he mouthed, and Allyson didn’t know whether to laugh or run up and punch him in the nose. Obviously he was not “all there” . . . which was one reason why a person didn’t leave a baby at a tattoo parlor!

They walked outside, and it was colder now. The wind had picked up, and her hair fluttered around Allyson’s face. It was getting later. The night was getting darker.

They paused outside of the door, and Allyson found herself looking to Sondra. Surely Sondra would have the answer. Surely Sondra would be able to figure something out.

Sondra released a slow heavy breath. She turned around, and eyed the street as if the answer would come hiking toward them.

“So what should we do?” Bridget’s voice sounded desperate. “Should I call the police?” She lifted her hand in desperation.

And instead of turning to Sondra for advice, Bridget turned to her.

“Ally?” Her voice was no more than a squeak. A mix of sadness, worry, and confusion filled her face.

Me . . . she wants advice from me?

Allyson looked around. She lifted her small purse and waved it. She’d been carrying it around all night. It was as if she was on a runaway train—one she didn’t know why she’d gotten on in the first place. But she had no ideas. No answers. “I—I don’t . . .”

Not waiting for her answer, Sondra moved and paced for the alley.

She carried her purse like a clipboard, and her straight-back stance was the same one Allyson had seen her take as she strode into meetings for the Women’s Missionary Union.

“Okay, ladies, follow me,” Sondra called out. “Back door.”

Relief flooded Allyson. Someone with an answer. She didn’t know if it was the right answer, but at least they were moving again.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Sondra breathed out slowly feeling a little light in the head.

Walking into the tattoo parlor with the lava lamps, the abstract art, the incense smell, and the psychedelic music that was like a low hum in the background took her back to her teen years. Just standing in there she felt young again. Stupid. She remembered how she’d worked so hard to fit in. And where had it got her? In a lot of trouble. Well, not a lot according to the authorities or anything, but she had made choices by following the crowd that she knew better.

Sondra walked with determined steps toward the alley. Being in the tattoo parlor had made her feel eighteen again, which was probably close to Bridget’s age. What would she have done if she’d had a baby then? She shook her head slightly not wanting to picture it. Considering that, she knew Bridget was trying. She knew she cared for her son . . . and the baby was in trouble. That was a mission worth walking down a dark alley for. She just prayed that nothing would jump out at them . . . or rather, no one.

Dear Lord. . . here we go . . .
she prayed silently.

She rounded the corner and noticed how disgusting it really was. It was as if the people in these buildings had been dumping their junk there for years. There was old tires, shopping carts filled with who-knows-what, piles of soiled bedding, and garbage bags that had been torn open and scattered—by creatures that she didn’t want to think about.

Graffiti covered the wall, which meant that human creatures had been down that way too. Hopefully they weren’t there now. And . . . she hoped they wouldn’t show up.

Sondra lifted her head slightly as she continued on. The other women followed her tentatively. Even Bridget held back a little, as if wondering if this was the best idea.

Sondra did her best to navigate around trash cans, cardboard boxes . . . foreign, sticky substances . . . She didn’t want to know what that was.

The women were quiet, watchful, as they walked.

A horrible stench rose up the farther they walked. Sondra resisted the urge to cover her nose and mouth. From somewhere in the distance a fireman’s siren blared. Sondra breathed in and out in measured breaths, the same way that she’d learned to do in Lamaze when Zoe was born.

She stepped over a puddle of something-that-wasn’t-rainwater and almost laughed to herself thinking what Mattie Mae Lloyd would think to see her here now. Something else to add to that list for the prayer chain.

Sondra brushed her hair out of her face. She accidentally kicked a small, metal trash can and it made a loud bang, causing her to jump. “Oh!”

She pointed to a pile of trash. “Careful there.”

“Eewww . . .” Allyson said.

She scooted by a shopping cart and tried not to gag. “Don’t touch that.” Sondra pointed out. “It has hair in it.”

A small squeak sounded behind her, and she was sure it came from Allyson. “Oh, wow. Oh, germs. Germs everywhere!” Allyson said in alarm.

Sondra led them along, and finally stopped beside a peeling wooden door with a rusty handle. From the position of the door in relation to the building she guessed that this was the one from the tattoo parlor.

Sondra reached for it and pulled. It moved just an inch or two and stopped. Locked. She wiggled it harder, but nothing worked. It didn’t budge.

Suddenly she wondered what she was doing. She didn’t know anything about this Bones guy. She didn’t know how he’d respond to someone in the alley. She didn’t know what he was hiding behind that curtain. Whatever it was it most likely wasn’t good.

Sondra turned. “This is a bad idea.”

She moved toward the street, and she didn’t have to tell Allyson that they needed to get out of there. Ally darted toward the street, as if wanting to get there first.

But it was Bridget, the youngest, the one with the most in the game who rushed forward back toward the door.

“Oh, no, no, no. We need to get to the bottom of this. I have to find my son!” She rushed forward, pounding on the door with her open palm—hard, fast. It was clear she believed that the answer to finding her little boy was on the other side of that door.

“Open this door! Open it—”

There was a loud squeak and the door jerked open. Bridget jumped back, hands in the air. She cried out in fear and Sondra found herself crying out too. All of them did.

A large form filled the doorway. A dark shadow. A man jumped out, carrying a double barrel shot gun. He wore a black leather vest with patches, a black bandana on his head. He was beefy and every inch that wasn’t covered with ink was covered with hair. He bellowed.

“I ain’t got money back here so turn yourselves around—” he bellowed. Then, seeing the women standing there, his look of dominance and terror turned to one of curiosity.

Instead of shrinking back, Bridget smiled and stretched out her arms. “Bones! It’s me, Bridget.”

Before her eyes the Big Bad Wolf turned to Santa Claus. He reached for her, and Bridget threw herself into his arms.

It took all of Bridget’s reach to wrap around his waist. Bones pulled her in tight, and Sondra’s eyes rimmed with tears.
This is better than a Hallmark commercial.

Pressed into his leather vest, Bridget’s smile was squished lopsided.

“Bridget? Hey, Baby Girl!” Bone’s voice takes on a fatherly tone.

Bridget’s hand splayed open on his chest and for the first time Sondra noticed that Bridget’s fingernails were painted different colors. Pink, green, black . . . they were all different colors. A lump grew in Sondra’s throat. She was so young, so . . . needy. From the way she allowed herself to fall into Bone’s hug, it was clear that Bridget was just looking for someone to care for her. And in her longing she found herself to be a mom. A mom who didn’t know where her son was.

“What are you doing back here?” Bones asked.

“I’m just here to get Phoenix.” She patted Bone’s chest and then pulled herself back and looked up at him. Taking another step back, Bridget looked around his large frame, as if trying to peek in the door behind him.

“Where is he? Joey said he dropped him off with you . . .”

Sondra peeked in. The walls were painted green and pictures of tattoos were pinned onto the wall. There was a lounging chair and other things set up for tattooing. She guessed it was the penthouse of the tattoo shop.

Bones nodded. “Yeah, yeah, he did.”

Bridget glanced back at the women, and Sondra could see a look of hope in the young mom’s gaze.

“Man, I love that kid,” Bones continued. “Do you ever notice how he snorts when he starts to laugh? He’s adorable, he really is.”

Then, as quickly as he started talk about Phoenix he switched his attention and turned to Sondra. He leaned forward and pointed.

“Have I seen you before?” he snapped.

Sondra’s blood turned to ice water in her veins. She’d been around many guys like him before. She’d allowed herself to go into places where characters like this hung out. She had stories. A library of stories held within. Locked up with a lock and key stronger than the lock that had kept Bone’s back door shut.

Of course she couldn’t admit it. She couldn’t tell these ladies that. She couldn’t give it away.

Sondra’s jaw dropped, and she narrowed her gaze. “My husband’s the pastor of First Baptist.” She tried to keep her voice as even as possible. She lowered her head and looked up at him from under her lashes.

“Nah, that’s not it.” He shook his head and then turned back to Bridget as if he’d kept one train of thought the whole time.

Regret filled his face. “I can’t go more than an hour without a smoke. Awful habit. I also know you should not do that around a baby,” he said, trying to explain.

Then, in the next breath, he looked back to Sondra again.

“Bonnaroo?” Bones asked.

Sondra knew of that place. It was a music festival in Tennessee, not too far away. She’d heard stories of the music, the drinking, and the out-of-control fans. She’d never been there and it was a place she definitely didn’t want Zoe to go to.