“No,” I answered, turning on the light on my bedside table.
“Do… do… don’t tell him but can you come and get me?”
“Are you injured?” I asked.
“Not really,” she whispered brokenly and I didn’t know if that really meant no or it was code for yes.
“Tab, baby, are you injured?” I pressed gently.
“I’m okay,” she whispered, again brokenly.
Right, I had no choice but to accept that.
“Where are you?” I asked.
“I’m outside his place. He… he… kicked me out. It’s an apartment off Lincoln and I don’t have my car because he picked me up at Natalie’s.”
Oh boy. Tab spent a lot of time at Natalie’s including a lot of nights.
This wasn’t good.
“Your boyfriend has an apartment?” I asked softly.
“He’s… yeah, he… he’s,” another sob. “Oh Tyra!” she cried, “don’t tell Dad really, really don’t tell Dad! Promise!”
I was rushing to the closet to grab clothes and I answered, “Promise, baby, now talk to me. Who is this guy?”
“He’s… he’s… twenty-three.”
Twenty-three!
She was sixteen!
“I met him… oh, it doesn’t matter. I just need a ride.”
“I’ll be there as fast as I can, Tabby, honey, promise. But I need a number on Lincoln so I can get there.”
She gave me the street number, shared she was sitting outside his door and I shared again I’d be there as fast as I could, she should stay where she was and if he came out, do not go back in no matter what he says, get away from him and call me.
Then, without thinking, my heart hammering, the pressure in my head increasing, my vision beginning to cover in red, I opened my phone, scrolled down and hit go.
It rang three times before I got a sleepy, “Yo.”
“Roscoe?”
“You got me.”
“It’s Tyra,” I told him, pulling up my jeans.
“What?” he asked, sounding shocked, as he would. I had his number because I had all the guys’ numbers but I wasn’t someone he would expect to get a call from unless I needed a ride or someone to mow my lawn. Mowing my lawn was, Tack had decided and it was one of what I was currently considering the few bonuses of being attached to Chaos, part of the recruits’ new duties. Seeing as a woman usually didn’t need her lawn mowed at one in the morning, a call from me at that time would be a surprise.
“I take it you aren’t on this mission with Tack and the boys?” I asked, now snatching a bra from my drawer.
“No.”
“Who else isn’t?” I asked, struggling with the phone between shoulder and ear to put my bra on.
“Recruits. Tug and Shy,” he answered.