“What?” I asked, my voice breaking. I couldn’t breathe.
Yogi’s hands fluttered down over my hair, trying to calm both of us. “She’s in the hospital.”
“What?”
“I tried getting ahold of you, but you didn’t answer, so I sat outside, hoping I’d find you—”
“Yogi, tell me what’s going on. What happened to Mimi?”
Yogi took a deep breath. “Joel.”
My brow tensed, and I felt a sudden urge to put my fist through a wall. “Joel.”
“Now, you and I both know he wasn’t into anything too serious, just pot and beer, but since you’ve been gone, he’s gotten himself in deep, and he was—he was on something, Melissa. He just went crazy. That’s what your neighbor says, anyway. She said she heard screaming, and when she went into the apartment, she found—she found Joel just—just—” Yogi held a hand to her mouth before composing herself. “Beating her. He beat her all over, but mostly over the head and—and—”
I grabbed Yogi by both arms and shook her. “What hospital? Where did they take her?”
“I-I don’t know, but I’d assume the closest, Central Metro.”
I spun around, latching onto Yogi as I trotted down the stairs. Kenny let out another protest and careened after us, still asking, “What is it? What is it?” Roger came last.
I threw myself into the car and waited impatiently for Roger, though he sensed the urgency and moved faster than usual. It still wasn’t fast enough.
“Give me the directions,” he asked as he peeled out of the parking lot.
“Left here, five blocks, then take a right. Drive until you get to Menoher Avenue. That will take you to Central Metro Hospital.”
Yogi and Kenny were in the back. Kenny kept asking Yogi what was wrong, while she petted his head and shhhed him softly.
“What about Joel?” I demanded. “What happened to him?”
“I don’t know. The neighbor said he shoved past her and got out of there when she showed up.”
“Goddamn it! I’ll kill him, the son of a bitch! No, you kill him.” I shot a glare at Roger. “Shoot him in the goddamn head!” I turned back to Yogi. “Do you know how bad it is? Do you?”
Yogi pressed her lips tightly together and shook her head. “The neighbor called me after the ambulance came for Mimi, because she’d seen me before and knew I was your friend. She took Mimi’s phone and called me with it.”
“I’ll kill him,” I hissed, kicking the glove compartment. “Can’t you drive any faster?”
“I’m going as fast as I can, Melissa.”
“Goddamn it.”
“Melissa—”
“I hate him! Mimi told me she broke up with him. She told me that! Was she lying, or did she just get back together with him? What did she see in that fucker anyway? Huh? He was—ugh, he was—I hate him!” I let out a shriek and kicked the glove compartment again. Kenny whimpered, and Yogi hushed him soothingly.
I started to cry, and that pissed me off. This wasn’t the time for tears. This was the time for revenge. That son of a bitch could have killed my sister. Actually, he might have. I’d always known he was bad news. And I’d done nothing.
I wanted to tell Ezekiel. I wanted to call him up, tell him what Joel had done, and then see what he said. I wanted Ezekiel to tell me he’d take care of it. And I wanted Joel’s carcass in tomorrow’s front-page news. I wanted it mutilated, shredded, and burned. I wanted his name erased from every phone book and database there was. I almost started believing in an afterlife right then, just so I could believe he’d rot in hell.
But he wasn’t dead yet, at least I hoped, because I wanted to watch the motherfucker die.
We pulled up into the no parking zone and parked. I was out of the car before anyone else could even unbuckle the seat belts. I headed straight for the ER.
By the time the other three had caught up, the woman at the desk had already rejected my request to see my sister.
“Please,” the nurse insisted when I started to snap. “I know you’re very upset right now, miss, but she’s being taken care of. Perhaps in a few hours, you will be able to see her. Trust me when I say we are doing all we can to—”
“Bullshit!”
“Miss, I’m going to have to ask you to sit down and wait like everyone else—”
“I want to know if my sister is alive!”
“Miss—”
I opened my mouth to fire back, but Roger clamped a hand on my shoulder and pulled me back.
“I’m sorry,” Roger said. “She’s obviously very upset.”
“Damn right I’m upset! I want to see my sister!”
Roger turned to me. “Melissa, please. Just go sit down. There’s nothing you can do. I’ll make sure everything is paid for, all right? Your sister will be taken care of.”
“I-I just—”
“I know.” Roger squeezed my arm. “But please. Just sit down.”
I looked at him helplessly a moment, feeling misery bubble up to replace my anger. I’d prefer to be angry. But the tears were coming, and they made me feel weak, so I just nodded and sat in the closest plastic chair available. I wasn’t sitting long, because Yogi pulled up in front of me, grabbed my hand, and yanked me to a stand. Next thing I knew, she was hugging me, as was Kenny.
“She’s a tough girl,” Yogi whispered. “She’ll make it.”
“Joel’s such a motherfucking…”
“Shh, I know.” Yogi smoothed my hair. “We’ll worry about Joel later. For now, you just try to stay positive. They’ll take care of your sister.”
“I don’t like hospitals,” I whispered.
“They’ll take care of her.”
I started sobbing harder now, and Yogi held me tighter. It had been so long since I’d been hugged, at least by someone I loved. Normally, I didn’t need hugs, but these past two months had left me so emotionally exhausted that I wouldn’t protest hugs like these every day.
Kenny broke the atmosphere. “Why are you crying, Melissa?”
I pulled back and wiped away my tears, trying to smile. “My sister is hurt, Kenny.”
Kenny pouted. “Mimi?”
“Yes, Mimi.”
Kenny looked appropriately sad, and I embraced him. Sometimes I envied Kenny’s naïve outlook on life.
Roger came back from the desk. “All we can do now is wait.”
Yogi got a seat next to me and held me as I cried. Part of me felt ashamed that Roger could see me like this, but another part didn’t give a shit. I had nothing to prove to Roger anyway.
It was getting dark out, and I wondered if Yogi was supposed to be working tonight. If she was, she didn’t move to leave, and I was silently thankful. Maybe I’d get her a gift as compensation. It wasn’t like I could give her cash. I didn’t have that.
Roger’s phone started buzzing, and he held up a finger to let us know he was going to take it outside. I was still sniffing, my head on Yogi’s shoulder, her arm around my back.
“Yogi?” I whispered.
“Yes?”
“So, um, how is business?”
Yogi chuckled softly. “Trying to get your mind off of Mimi?”
“No use torturing myself over it until I get to see her.”
“Work has been fine. All the girls are fine. Except…” Yogi fell silent.
“Who?”
“Cordelia.”
I let out a long sigh. “Why am I not surprised?”
“I’m afraid she’s considering working for a pimp.”
I sat up, suddenly angry. “What? How would she possibly be that stupid?”
“You know how they promise to take care of their girls. Cordelia is a delicate girl, emotionally and mentally, and it doesn’t take much promising to get her on your side. She’s—she’s not doing very well, Melissa. She’s using more these days.”
I shook my head. “God. Cordelia.”
“We’ve all tried talking to her, but she won’t listen. She thinks a pimp is the best way to go. She doesn’t want to be responsible for herself any more. And I admit that in some ways, working with a pimp should be easier. He pays all the bills, right? You get your own house, own meals…and of course customers are always waiting for you. You probably make more money with a pimp.”
“More money in gross. You make more gross,” I said hotly. “But by the end of the day, you’ve got two cents to your name. Once the pimp takes out your bills and his own slice, you’re left with shit.”
“I know, dear, I know. But Cordelia…she’s a desperate woman. And she’s a hard worker. The pimps want her. She’s not very good at saying no.”
“Maybe if I talk to her—”
“Right now, you worry about yourself. Leave Cordelia to us. You’ve got your own problems.”
“But I feel like…”
Yogi smoothed a hand over her hair. “Like I said. You worry about you. Cordelia has always used you as her crutch. She needs to learn how to stand on her own.”
“But she might listen to me!”
“She probably won’t. Once that girl has made up her mind—hmm, that boy doesn’t look too good.”
“Huh?” I looked up and found Roger slipping into the lobby, pale-faced. Oh no. I immediately stood, terrified that Ezekiel had called.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, grabbing Roger’s arm. “Is Ezekiel—”
“It’s Bahiya.”
Wait a minute. What?
Roger let out a humorless chuckle. “Man, this must be a bad day for hospitals.”
“How is she?” I asked.
“She collapsed.” He stared emotionlessly at his phone, as if waiting for it to answer. “They’re operating tonight.”
“Oh God.” What were the chances? This was really ridiculous.
“I…” Roger was torn, staring at the exit and then glancing back at me. I instantly understood his dilemma.
“Go,” I ordered, putting a hand on his arm.
“No.” He shook his head sharply. “I can’t leave you here—”
“Are you honestly putting me above your wife?”
“But Ezekiel—”
“—doesn’t have to know. I won’t tell. I promise.”
“But—”
“Go,” I insisted, pushing him toward the exit. “I’ll be fine. All I’m going to be doing tonight is hanging out here in the hospital. Yogi is with me. I’m safe.”
“I should take you home.”
“No. I’m staying here with my sister.”
Roger really did look scared, but I blamed that on the fact that his wife was in peril. He glanced at the door again.
“Please, Roger. Just go. Bahiya needs you there for her.”
Yogi stood beside me, nodding. Roger clenched his eyes shut a moment, still stuck in limbo. Finally, he gave a tiny nod.
“Okay.” He grabbed my bag. “You have my number, right? If anything goes wrong, anything at all, you call me. I’ll be here as fast as I can drive. Please call me if you’re in danger, any at all.”
“Roger. I’m in the middle of the ER. What is going to happen to me?”
“Promise me.”
“Okay, fine. I promise.”
He dropped a hand on my shoulder, indecisive. I patted the hand grasping me, trying to soothe him.
“I hope she’s fine,” I whispered.
He nodded and then moved away, his pace hurried. He threw one last look at me before he rushed through the glass doors and out into the night.
* * *
“I’m sorry I made you miss work.”
Yogi and I both stood in front of the bathroom mirror, desperate to have something to do while we waited for news on Mimi. I looked like a mess, so I decided to take off all my makeup. Yogi had a comb in her purse that I ran through my hair. She also provided a wet wipe for the streaks of mascara running down my cheeks.
“It’s all right. I’m going to quit soon anyway.”
I turned to her, stunned. “What?”
Yogi inhaled sharply and grasped the counter. “I’ve been offered a full-time position elsewhere.”
“What does that mean?”
“You know Thomas?”
“Of course. The guy showed up once a week like clockwork. He’s the nice one.”
At this, Yogi smiled. “Yes. He has always been very nice to me.”
A customer is a customer. But Thomas had been around as long as I had. He’d never bartered on the price, never skimped, never said a bad word about any of us. He was the perfect customer. Nothing kinky, always polite. And as far as we knew, Thomas saw no one else. The girls teased Yogi, calling them “married.” And while I never thought too highly of any customer, Thomas seemed like a decent guy, if not a little boring. He was about fifty, balding, chubby around the middle, and an accountant. So he wasn’t exactly Prince Charming, but he was a respectable guy, and I had to admit, women like Yogi weren’t so easy to find. Maybe he paid for Yogi because there was no one offering it for free.
“So what does this mean?”
“He has a daughter who also has Down syndrome.”
“Really?”
“Yes. He said that I could move in with him. He’ll take care of everything. All I have to do is look after his daughter—and Kenny, of course.”
“And do the usual.”
“I would assume, yes. I figure it’ll be like being married.” Her voice hitched. “And do you know what else he promised?”
I raised my eyebrows.
“Hormones,” Yogi whispered ecstatically.
“Really?”
She nodded, clearly excited.
“Wow. That’s great, Yogi. I’m really happy for you. Though…a lot of times, these deals don’t work out.” I didn’t want to rain on her parade, but it was usually the truth.
“I know. I don’t have incredibly high hopes. But Thomas strikes me as a man of his word. Plus he’s very laid-back. He really does like me, Melissa. He’s kept coming back for years. And he’s very kind to Kenny, which is important to me.”
It seemed like the perfect match. Yogi wasn’t a romantic, and I knew she wasn’t in love with Thomas—not in the least. This was just another business deal for her. But just because it was business didn’t mean it wasn’t good business. This would give her a chance to get off the streets and into a home where she would be appreciated. I’d always felt like Yogi was too good for Metro…for us. She had only ended up in Metro because she’d been chased out of her own comfortable, middle-class home at fourteen. She’d resorted to prostitution out of necessity, and she’d never been involved in drugs. Actually, Yogi was probably the reason I never went to a pimp. It would have been easy, getting with Jazzy, the pimp who approached me when I was sixteen. But before I could agree to it, I met Yogi through a neighbor. She suggested the little co-op at the barbershop, where there were no pimps to watch you pick up tricks in an alley and make sure you filled your quota. You worked as much or as little as you wanted, the money was yours, and since most business was conducted close to the other women, you were in little danger. That didn’t mean there wasn’t risk—any job in Metro came with risk—but I honestly think Yogi saved me from a helluva lot of suffering and pain. Which was why Cordelia’s situation alarmed me. She had problems with quotas, and a pimp would kill her once he found that out.
“I’m getting older, too,” Yogi muttered. “Who knows how long I’ll be able to keep up this business.”
I snorted. “You’re twenty-seven, Yogi. That’s not old.”
Yogi sighed heavily. “And you? How has this deal been working out for you?”
I shrugged. “There’s danger, but I don’t know. It’s not too bad. Ezekiel’s gone most of the time, so I kind of just hang out with Roger and buy nice dresses with Ezekiel’s credit card.”
“You aren’t fooling around with Rog—”
“No!” I objected heatedly. “He’s got a wife. And Ezekiel would murder him. And I don’t see him like that.”
“He’s quite a looker.”
“He’s my bodyguard, Yogi. Nothing else. God, why do I have to explain that to everyone? Do I look love-struck or something?”
“Of course not.” Yogi sniffed. “It’s just that he seems like a very nice man, and any girl would be crazy not to jump his bones.”
I elbowed Yogi with as much of a smile as I could muster at the moment. “Stop it. Don’t be getting ideas. He’s married.”
Yogi rolled her eyes. “Not for me. I’ve learned my lesson when it comes to chasing pretty faces.”
As far as I knew, Yogi had no real romantic interests, but I hadn’t known her for more than a few years. It was hard to picture her falling in love—she was so pragmatic about everything—even though she was a very loving person. She handed out love to Kenny and her girls—but never to a man.
“We’d best get back to the waiting room.”