Fighting for Rain - BB Easton Page 0,12

know … was it the next day, baby?”

I nod against his chest, too stunned to cry and too mortified to look up.

“When I found her, she was high as a kite, getting her ass kicked in the middle of Burger Palace over a bottle of painkillers.”

“Oh, Rainbow. I’m so—”

“She goes by Rain now, and I’m not finished,” Wes snaps, cutting off Carter’s mother. “Since you guys left, she lost her parents, got shot at, got trapped in a house fire, tried to overdose, and … what else, honey? Oh yeah, she almost got blown up in an eighteen-wheeler explosion last night. So, if you’re asking how we got engaged instead of why she’s crying and looks like she’s been through a war zone, you never fucking cared about her in the first place.”

I wait for Carter’s mom to slap him across the face, but all I hear is a single slow clap coming from the group of tables at the back of the food court. I open one eye and see a girl about my age, maybe younger, walking toward us with the swagger of a gangster. She looks like she might have had green hair at one point, but it’s faded to the color of decaying leaves and is twisted into messy dreadlocks. Her rounded nose has a hoop through it, and her baggy black T-shirt and pants look like they came from the men’s big and tall section at Walmart.

Everyone in the food court cowers as she passes.

“That’s the most fun we’ve had around here since the internet went down.” She twists her full lips into a smirk, still clapping at a painfully slow rate.

Wes’s grip around my shoulders loosens, and his energy goes cool again.

“What’s your name, Hawaii Five-0?” Her hazel eyes are the same color as her yellowish-greenish-brownish hair. They cut over to me once and darken before darting back over to the man next to me.

“Wes,” he says flatly.

“Well, Wes, welcome to my kingdom.” She spreads her arms and glances around the food court. “I’m Q. That stands for queen, ’cause I’m the muhfuckin’ monarch up in here. Me and my crew been runnin’ this place goin’ on three years now. You and y’all other stray cats”—she flicks her fingernails at the rest of us sitting around the table—“are guests in my castle. That means y’all gon’ have to pull y’all’s weight, or you gon’ get put out.” Her angular eyebrows shoot up in warning as she points toward the barricaded exit.

“Ya boy Carter here”—she points a lazy finger at my ex—“is on patrol duty. Duck Dynasty over here hunts birds and deer and shit from up on the roof. And mama bear”—she points to Mrs. Renshaw—“cooks it all up real nice. But y’all …” Q taps her fingertips to her lips as her eyes roam from Wes to me to Lamar. Then, she snaps her fingers. “Y’all gon’ be my scouts.”

“Scouts?” Wes’s body language is relaxed, but his tone is challenging.

“That’s right. We’re runnin’ low on shit now that all y’all strays are up in here. Somebody got to do some shoppin’.”

“I can’t leave,” I blurt out. “Please. Let me do something else. We have a hurt friend, and somebody has to stay here to take care of him.”

Q eyes me suspiciously. “You good at shit like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like nurse-type shit.”

I sit up and nod. “My mom is … was … an ER nurse. She taught me a lot.”

Q snaps again and points one long fingernail right between my eyes. “Good. You gon’ be my medic. And you can start with that one.” She swings her finger from my face to Mr. Renshaw’s.

I glance at Mr. Renshaw and watch the color drain out of his rosy cheeks.

“Don’t let me down now.” Q cackles as she sashays back to her table, full of other rough-looking, gun-toting, unwashed teens. “I’d hate to have to feed y’all to the Bonys.”

They’re runaways, I realize.

We’re all just strays and runaways.

Turning to Carter’s dad, who hasn’t spoken a word since we sat down, I ask, “Why do you need a medic, Mr. Renshaw?”

He gives me a sad smile. “That ain’t important right now. What’s important is that you know how sorry we are about your folks, Rainbo—I mean, Rain.” Carter’s grizzly bear of a dad looks at Wes, remembering what he said about my name, and gives him a solemn nod.

Mrs. Renshaw reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “I am so sorry, baby girl.” Her dark brown eyes