Fighting for Rain - BB Easton Page 0,32

the nothingness, pulling it on like a hazmat suit right before the sadness slams into me.

Once I’m safe in my feelingless fog again, I look back down at Mr. Renshaw. His face is just as guarded as mine.

“I guess we’re done here then, huh?”

His bushy eyebrows lift in surprise. “You ain’t gonna argue with me?”

I shake my head and swivel his chair toward the door. Using it like a wheelchair, I roll him out into the hallway. “I know better than to argue with a Renshaw. Y’all are almost as stubborn as you are cocky.”

“Hey,” Mr. Renshaw snaps. “If God didn’t want me to brag, he shouldn’t’ve made me so damn pretty.”

I shake my head as I roll the old man back home.

When we get to the shoe store, I’m greeted by an enthusiastic tackle hug from Sophie and a sad-eyed, sorry about your parents hug from Mrs. Renshaw. Both of them make me want to cry.

And also remind me why leaving the tuxedo shop is such a bad idea.

It takes almost all the energy I have to crank my mouth up into a smile. I can’t remember the last time I ate … or even stood up for this long. Spots begin to dance along the edges of my vision.

“He’s all yours,” I say, walking backward out of the store as the room begins to tilt. “I, uh … I gotta get back to Quint. See ya later …”

Once I’m in the hallway, I tear my eyes away from their disappointed faces and head back to Savvi so fast that I’m practically jogging. I keep my gaze glued to the floor and count my steps along the way to keep my eyes and mind from wandering to dangerous places.

Ninety-one, ninety-two, ninety—

As soon as I cross the threshold into my new home, I finally look up.

And find Q staring back at me.

She’s leaning against the counter with her arms folded across her chest and a look on her face that says she didn’t come to say hi.

“What’s up, Doc?” she deadpans.

“Hey, Q. How’re you?” I cringe at the fake cheerfulness in my voice.

It’s like I’m in high school all over again, cranking up my Southern accent and trying to play nice with the mean girls who are just waiting around to steal my boyfriend or snip off pieces of my ponytail when I’m not looking. Well, too bad for Q; the boy and the hair are already gone.

Like everything else.

“Just came to check on my future scout.” Q tosses her dreads over one shoulder as she casts a backward glance over the counter at Quint. “Looks like you been earnin’ your keep, nurse lady.” Her toxic, waste-colored eyes flick back to me. “‘Specially since you ain’t even been takin’ your share.”

The accusation in her tone tells me that I did something wrong, but hell if I know what.

“I’m sorry, my share of what?” I ask as sweetly as possible.

“Don’t give me that Southern belle bullshit. I’m talkin’ ’bout food. You know, that shit you need to stay alive? You got a stockpile around here that you ain’t tellin’ me about?”

When I don’t answer, her slimy gaze slides over the rest of the store. Searching. “You wanna live in my kingdom, Snow White, you gotta share yo’ spoils, undastand?”

I nod, swallowing hard, as Q walks past the mannequin stand where my overstuffed backpack is hidden underneath. Just before she breezes past me, she stops, so close I can smell the weed smoke trapped in her hair, and runs a long fingernail down my jaw.

“By the way”—her lip curls as she digs her razor-sharp talon into the underside of my chin—“you look like shit.”

I clamp my jaw shut and hold her stare. I’m not about to give this bitch the satisfaction of seeing me wince, but I’m not dumb enough to slap her away either.

I need this place too much.

Q finally drops her hand with a cackle and waltzes past me toward the door. “Bet that’s why ya man left.”

Rain

The mall is quiet. Quint is resting after the best day he’s had since we got here, and Lamar is sound asleep with his head on my shoulder. I should be happy. Or at least content. But I feel nothing.

I hope it lasts.

Footsteps in the hallway approach, but I’m not afraid. I’m safe here—inside this building, behind this counter. Nothing has tried to attack, shoot at, or rape me since I arrived.

Which is exactly why I’m never, ever leaving.

When the clomp, clomp, clomp