The minute we do, one of the women shouts down, “You lookin’ for some action, sweet thing?”
The other whistles as I shake my head.
“Well, maybe I wasn’t talking to you then. How about you, old man?” she persists, undeterred.
“Do you know Ramona?” I yell up, and they start whispering again.
“It’s gonna cost you,” she responds, tilting her head, sizing me up.
“Now why would we pay you when we already know where she lives?” I counter, narrowing my eyes.
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean she’s going to open the door, now does it?” she sasses back.
“And how do I know she will for you?” I shrug, feeling her out.
“Because I’m her supplier, baby,” she smiles knowingly. “She always opens for me. She can’t help herself.”
I swallow, trying to ignore the bile rising in my throat. Ivy’s mom has advanced well beyond alcohol, it seems. I don’t even want to know what this woman is supplying her with, feeding her addictive tendencies.
“You front me fifty, and I promise”—she pauses, chuckling—“open sesame.”
I start climbing the stairs with my father right behind me. When we make it to the third-floor landing, I reach for my wallet, counting out two twenties and a ten—all the cash I have on me—and hand it over.
She snatches it away from me as her friend laughs.
“This way, fellas,” she drawls, beckoning us forward with her finger. “But you’d better stay back so she doesn’t see you. Let me do the talking.”
I exchange a tense look with my dad as she bangs on the door.
“Ramona, open the fuck up. I got this new shit you gotta try. It’s the bomb. And I’m even willing to let you have a taste out of the goodness of my heart for being such a loyal customer,” she says sarcastically at eye level with the peephole.
For a minute, nothing happens but the woman doesn’t move. She stays rooted in place, sure of her conquest. Her friend mutters some obscenities under her breath before strolling away, leaving the three of us. I glance around nervously, wondering if we’re being set up, when the door opens with the chain hanging across the top.
“Hand it over,” a gravelly voice commands from inside.
“Not ‘til you let me in,” the woman sneers, shoving her foot in the crack as Ramona tries to close it.
Knowing this is our one and only opportunity at this, I slam my shoulder like a linebacker against the door, breaking the chain as it flies open and I go hurtling into the smoke-filled room.
“Later, Ramona,” the woman says, waving from the doorway as my dad follows me in. “Don’t forget you owe me for the shit I gave you last week, and Boo Boo’s none too happy about it.”
“Get out!” Ramona screams, raging out at her.
“Well, you can always work off your debt if you want. You know Boo Boo’s always up for that,” she snickers.
Ramona rushes at my dad, trying to push him out.
“Yeah, you guys can deal with this crazy bitch on your own, I’m outta here,” the woman exclaims, but I barely hear her.
All I can see is the scraggly grey hair whipping around the back of Ramona’s head as she pummels my dad. He tries to restrain her, but she’s strong even with such an emaciated body. I still haven’t gotten a good look at her face as I gently put my hands on her shoulders in attempt to pry her off. She spins around, digging her nails into my forearms, fighting me off.
But I don’t resist even though the crazed eyes glaring at me in hatred are filled with a wild sort of frenzy. They’re red-rimmed, bloodshot, and drowning in an immense ocean of sadness. But I’d recognize them anywhere.
Because they’re Ivy’s.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Ivy
I wake up groggy and disoriented.
I look up, thinking that the skylight is above my bed. But it’s not there. My heart starts to pound, and that’s when I hear the steady beeping of the monitor next to me. I move my arm and feel the tug of the IV line. Immediately, my hands fly to my stomach.
I’m still pregnant. The baby is still inside of me.
I exhale and lean back against the pillows. No matter what else happens, as long as the baby’s okay, I can deal with anything that comes my way. I don’t remember how I ended up back in the hospital, but I didn’t lose the baby. And for now, that’s all I care about.
The room is dark as I glance nervously around. The curtains are drawn, and the only light is coming from the machines beside my bed. It’s not until I detect a faint trace of snoring that I spy a shadowed form sitting in the corner.
Eric…
My mind is fuzzy as I try to remember how I got here. I attempt to sit up, but I feel so incredibly sore down there. And that’s all it takes for it all to come flooding back. The blood. The gunshots. Tim.