24
The following morning Tracie stood in the steamy shower, letting the hot water pour over her. She hadn’t had a good night’s sleep, and her very bones felt weary. She was going to call into the shop today and have her manager run the salon.
She just didn’t have the energy to face people. She wouldn’t be able to get away with that for long, because Whiskey’s shipment had to be moved out. But that was for another day.
Stepping out of the shower, she went to the mirror. She rubbed the steam off the mirror so she could see. She began her facial with a special cleanser she had. As she cleansed her face, eyes of desolation stared back at her from the mirror.
Her usually bright eyes lacked luster. She lightly rubbed her hands over them, trying to massage in some life.
Suddenly she frowned. She put her face in the sink and splashed pure, cold water on it. Then she dried it quickly. She didn’t have time for a leisurely facial.
A thought had been plaguing her that she couldn’t shake, so she needed to put her mind at ease. She dried herself, put on her thick velour robe, and walked out of the bathroom, down the hall to Rashod’s old room.
The boy hadn’t slept in the room in so long Tracie couldn’t even remember when. There was a cocky sign on the door that read RASHOD’S PLACE. An arrow was taped underneath it that led to the words DO NOT ENTER IF YOU AIN’T BEEN ASKED. Tracie shook her head at his usual brashness.
Turning the knob, she went into the room. A smell of musk hit her in the face as soon as she opened the door. The room was dark and musty-smelling. She could kill this boy. He knew damn well that she didn’t keep her house like this.
She rarely ever went in the room, because it was just too painful since their relationship was so estranged. However, if she had known he’d turned it into a pigsty, she’d have gone over to that damned crack house he hung out in and kicked his behind until the cows came home.
Frustrated, she stepped over the clothes, electronic gadgets, and shoes strewn all over the floor, to go to the closet, when she felt something crunching under her feet. What the hell could be crunching under her feet when the room had wall-to-wall carpeting?
She flicked on the light and closed her eyes at the disaster of a room that loomed up in front of her. She went to the edge of the carpet, pulling it up and back from where it had been tacked down.
She gasped. There were hoards of sunflower seeds, mountains of them. Rashod had a fixation with those damned seeds, and it looked as though he’d been collecting them under her rug.
A memory flashed, hot and painful. A sunflower seed had been lying on the nightgown next to the silver heart.
Tracie got up and went to the closet, yanking open the door. She was having a fuming fit. She just started pulling things off the hangers, down off the shelves, and throwing things around. From high up in the closet, a shelf shook from all her shaking, and something fell down, hitting her on the top of the head.
Startled, she rubbed her head and looked down at the other black and gold Karl Kani boot belonging to Randi. Spent from her tirade, and aghast at seeing the boot, Tracie Burlingame sat down on the floor and wept like a baby. This was too much. Why the hell was that boot hidden in Rashod’s old closet?