Crimson Footprints Part 24

Deena smiled ruefully. "Have I-have I ever told you about my father?"

He shook his head. "Is he like my dad? Always busy?"

Deena smiled. "No, sweetheart. He's dead. And my mother killed him."

Kenji frowned. "Well, what did he do?"

"Do?" Deena echoed, the word tasting foul in her mouth.

"Yeah," Kenji said. "People don't just...kill people, right? So, what did he do?"

Deena swallowed. It was an obvious question, but one never posed to her, never asked as far as she'd known.

She sat back, eyes blurring momentarily.

"I'm going to bed, Kenji. Good night."

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE.

Florida in June kicked rocks. The air was too thick, the sun too bright and the temperature like h.e.l.l on repeat. Still, it was the only place Tak had ever called home, and he suspected it would always be.

Their seats were good ones-middle of the pack and down center. Deena was wearing his favorite UCLA cap, thread bare and pulled low, alongside a pair of jeans and a baby tee. She tugged on the s.h.i.+rt constantly, as if still getting acclimated to the new and relaxed wardrobe, and the outfit that bore a tad of her midriff.

Tak brought a hand to the cap he wore and tried to bend the brim. New and ill fitting, he'd ordered it online with the realization that his trusty stand-by was gone for good. Both caps were white with gold letters trimmed in purple, but his-or rather Deena's now, was broken-in just right, while the other saluted like a soldier.

Eyes on the field in search of his kid brother, Tak thought back to a conversation with Deena a few nights ago. In it, she told him that after her father had been killed, she and her siblings spent ten days in foster care. Ten days. He just couldn't fathom why. True her family was poor, but lots of people were poor. The Tanakas, none of which who'd fared as well as his father, would've mobbed the place in an instant. They would've fought like h.e.l.l,-uncle Yos.h.i.+, the used car salesman, would've argued that as second oldest he was ent.i.tled to the kids, while aunt Asami would've pointed out that she had more money. In the end though, his grandmother would've won.

Tak wondered about Deena's mother and her family. Her mother had been born and raised in Miami; it stood to reason that someone from the family was near. Didn't Deena want to know them?

He glanced at her cautiously.

"What do you know about your mother's family?" Tak asked.

Deena turned from the warm up on the field and frowned. "My mother's family? Why?"

He shrugged. "Just curious, I guess."

"Not much. A few names. And that I have no need for them."

She turned back to the field.

"No need? Why?"

"Well," Deena said. "I've never met them, not one of them, not even when my mother was around."

"But there could be a million reasons for that. Maybe they don't even know about you. Or maybe-"

"It's a great day for a game, isn't it?"

She tugged on the brim of his cap and shouted 'go Kenji,' to which he scanned the stands, spotted them and waved vehemently. Though silenced, Tak's mind continued to race. He just couldn't shake it.

"Day Two in foster care, Miss Measley, our caseworker, comes in and tells me that Jeff and Laura Wright, my mother's parents, would be there to pick us up that afternoon," Deena finally said, eyes still on the field.

"And?" Tak said quietly, almost afraid to go on.

Deena glanced at him. "And, I'm still waiting."

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX.

On her way home from school, Lizzie rounded the corner just as the first raindrops fell. She used a hand to s.h.i.+eld her face. The rain in Miami was unpredictably violent, and she knew that she'd never make the three blocks home before it caught her full force. Thunder clapped and lightening flashed. Lizzie jumped, then double-timed her efforts. Another clap, and all at once, rain fell in gusty torrential bursts. Everything around Lizzie turned gray and cold.

Next to her, a white Monte Carlo pulled over, barely visible in the storm.

"Hurry up. Get in."

It was Snow Man. He threw open the door and Lizzie jumped in, dripping onto his seat.

He stared at her.

"You look good wet. s.e.xy as h.e.l.l."

"You think so?" She looked down at herself.

Snow laughed. "You f.u.c.king kidding me? I get a hard-on every time I see you, anyway. You and that sister of yours."

Grinning, he placed a hand on Lizzie's leg. "But you the only one know how to use what you got."

Slowly, he began to knead her thigh, working inward in tight circular motion. She said nothing, used to the way men touched her. They couldn't help themselves. She knew that. Lizzie glanced at the windows, now fogged as rain blasted the car.

"Let's get in the backseat for a second. My defroster isn't working, so we'll have to wait this out."

Lizzie hesitated. He'd f.u.c.ked her before, even since she'd lost her virginity. He had this way of nudging himself in regardless. Slipping over to Lizzie's place when his kids were there to visit, only to corner her in the bathroom and pin her to a wall; offering to run to the store when Grandma Emma needed milk or juice and asking Lizzie to ride, only to pull over half way and pull himself out. Spying her in the rain and offering a ride.

Lizzie climbed into the back seat. Snow was too tall to scale over as she'd done, so he threw open his door and dove into the back. Drenched by the rain, he turned to Lizzie and kissed her, no questions asked. Rough calloused hands squeezed and groped, tugging on her clothes until she had none.

"Come on," he said, pulling on his pants. "Suck my d.i.c.k." Before she could answer, he'd placed a hand behind her head.

An hour pa.s.sed. An hour she spent swallowing him, underneath him, on her knees for him.

Finally, when he'd spent himself in her, he reached for his jeans and pulled his wallet out his pocket.

"What I owe you?"

Lizzie hesitated. She hadn't been sure if she'd get paid since she hadn't made it clear. She would charge him the usual price. No friends and family discount here.

"Let's see, twenty for the blow and a hundred for the f.u.c.k."

Snow Man peeked in his wallet dramatically. "I've only got ten on me."

Lizzie flared. Next time she'd collect up front. "Give it to me," she spat.

He handed her the crumpled bill and watched her slide it into her jeans. "How much you made today?" he asked Lizzie eyed him suspiciously. "Why?"

"Cause I want to know."

She shrugged. "A hundred fifty."

"And how many dudes you f.u.c.ked for that?"

She shrugged. It was none of his business.

"What if I told you that you could make a lot more money doing the exact same s.h.i.+t?"

Lizzie frowned. "I'm not standing on no f.u.c.king street corner, Snow."

He sat up straighter. "Naw, listen. I know dudes with real money. Dudes that pay two hundred, two-fifty for what you just did."

"Two hundred dollars? For one guy?"

"With a body like yours? h.e.l.l yeah. You better do while you young." He nodded to himself approvingly. "Now what I'm thinking is that you and me can clean up. I send 'em your way, I get my referral fee and you get the rest."

"Referral fee? How much is that?"

"Does it f.u.c.king matter?" Snow hissed. "You're not paying it, they are. What I'm saying is I can send one guy your way that'll pay you for what you're getting for a s.h.i.+tload of guys. So, you with it, or what?"

Lizzie laughed. She could hardly believe her luck.

"h.e.l.l yeah we're in business. h.e.l.l yeah."

The drugs came fast. Alcohol and weed first, X, c.o.ke and heroin later. They were what she needed, and they made getting through the jobs easier. Snow was the one who gave her the stuff and when his supply ran dry, Lizzie began to look elsewhere for a high. She began to look anywhere.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN.

When Grandma Emma and Deena were ushered into Princ.i.p.al Williams' office, the man brightened at the sight of his former pupil. He'd aged in the years since she'd last seen him, sprouting a belly where a tight stomach once sat, and white speckle in his crop of thick black hair. But his smile was the same, big and congenial, eyes nearly shutting with the joy of seeing Deena.

He gushed over her momentarily, eager to know about her life and career, before ushering them to the hard-back plastic seats in front of his desk. Lizzie sat in a corner donning a fitted white t-s.h.i.+rt that failed to reach her waist and had "Hot and Bothered" printed on the front. Not even in h.e.l.l, would this s.h.i.+rt and skirt be within the dress code.

"What are you wearing?" Deena hissed.

Princ.i.p.al Williams shot her a sympathetic look. "Ordinarily we send students home when they dress like this, but quite frankly, we'd be sending Elizabeth home every day if we did."

With everyone seated, Princ.i.p.al Williams folded his hands and gave a tired smile.

"I wish we were here under better circ.u.mstances. I am so proud of you, after all."

"Thanks," Deena said quietly.

She shot Lizzie another reproachful look. There wasn't a lot of time to dawdle, considering she'd taken Tak's car and left him back at the firm. Despite what he'd said, she didn't want him to have to catch the bus on her account.

"Mr. Williams, I know you told my grandmother over the phone that you wanted Lizzie out of your school, but isn't there any other alternative?"

The princ.i.p.al frowned. "I know it was quite some time ago that you were a student here, but do you remember the zero tolerance policy I had?"

"You mean about illegal activity?" Alarmed, Deena looked at her sister. She wouldn't meet her gaze.

"Illegal activity is exactly what I mean," Princ.i.p.al Williams said.

He reached into his desk and pulled out a sheet of folded paper before sliding it over to Deena.

The first set of handwriting was in pencil, scrawled in haste, but clear nonetheless.

What can I get for $25?

The answer was small, careful, tightly written. Lizzie's handwriting.

A bj.

Deena dropped the paper.

"She also offered her services to me," Princ.i.p.al Williams said too loudly. "When I told her that I would have to withdraw her from school.

"She's troubled, Mr. Williams," Deena blurted, pus.h.i.+ng back the hot and sour feel of her stomach. "Don't kick her out. You-you know my family. You've had them all here! My aunts and cousins! You know better than anyone how troubled we are!"

"Yes, but-"