he’s stupid. “I was busy.”
“Too busy for a booty call? Don’t bullshit me. Were you out with that Opal chick?”
“No,” I lie. “You know where I was?” I throw a quick glance over at my mother before I tell him the story about having to pick her up, without mentioning a word about Ellie, of course. Even if this didn’t happen last weekend like I’m implying, it’s the perfect thing to divert Jorgie’s attention.
“That’s some messed up shit right there, Scotty. You know, I see you every day at work and you’re only telling me this story now? I’m hurt, man. So hurt.”
I scoff. “Gotta say, on the long list of my priorities, your feelings come in somewhere near the very bottom, Jorgie.”
“I get no respect,” he mutters, and then the lights flash, announcing the beginning of the concert. As the crowd settles in, Jorgie manages to get the seat next to me, waving to his mother across the room to let her know he’s still around.
Not surprisingly, watching other people’s kids sing is boring as shit and the first place my mind wanders is to an image of Ellie. Supposedly she’s going to cook dinner for us tomorrow night. Grinning to myself, I wonder if she knows what’s she’s doing or if it’ll be a debacle. And damn, I know she told me that she switched her shifts, working tonight instead of tomorrow, but why didn’t I tell her I’d see her later when she got off. Why do I have to wait for tomorrow?
Finally, the girls’ group takes the stage and I get my phone out to record them. They’re so poised up there and I couldn’t be prouder as they sing their hearts out. Halfway through, there’s a bit of a commotion at the back of the gymnasium, but I stay focused on what matters. It gets louder and murmurs begin to ripple through the crowd.
“Oh, shit,” Jorgie whispers beside me. “It’s Lolita.”
“What?” I hiss back even though I heard him. I just refuse to believe it.
Checking over my shoulder, I can’t see much in the dim light, but then I hear her voice loud and clear. “I’m allowed to be here!”
Multiple sssshhhhhh’s ring out from the crowd.
“Don’t shush me!” she yells. “I got as much right to be here as you!”
The performers on stage start to waver, unsure if they’re supposed to continue.
Motherfucker! Nudging Jorgie in the side with my elbow, I hand him my phone to keep filming and then I duck along the row, dodging knees and feet to get to the aisle.
“Get your hands off me!”
Near the back door, I see her, trying to avoid some guy who’s trying to corral her out of the room.
“Lolis,” I hiss. “What are you doing?”
She falters when she sees the anger on my face, so at least she lowers her voice from a shout to a regular speaking volume. It’s still way too loud. “Scotty, he says I can’t stay.”
The guy gladly washes his hands of the situation and leaves her with me. “Let’s go,” I whisper tightly, jerking my head at the door.
“But she’s up there! I love you, Rosa!” she yells, and again, the performers falter.
“Lower. Your. Voice.” I’m about to lose it, but instead, I pull in a deep breath and gesture to the door. “Let’s. Go.”
For a split second, I see the indecision on her face. This could go either way. Thank goodness for small mercies when she turns and slinks through the door. In the hall, I scan over her in the light. Her pupils are blown wide open. She’s high as a kite. Since it’s impossible to talk to her when she’s like this, I focus on how to get her home.
“How’d you get here?” I demand.
She doesn’t like the tone of my voice. “What do you care?”
My anger boils over. “Are you kidding me, right now? You just humiliated our daughter in front of all those people.”
Down the corridor, a woman trying to soothe a baby, shushes us, so I take Lolita’s arm and pull her toward the main entrance. Once we’re outside, I ask her again. “Who brought you? Is someone picking you up?”
“Don’t pretend to care about me, Scotty.”
She really doesn’t get it. I’m missing my kid’s performance for this. And I don’t have a way to contact anyone because my cell is with Jorgie. “Where’s your phone?”
Her blank stare irritates me to no end. “Where’s your phone, Lolis?”
She finally pulls it out of the back pocket