CHAPTER 13
When my stomach is empty, I step over the dead cat and enter my apartment, locking myself in the bathroom. My mind races. “What do I do? What the fuck do I do? I need to call Janelle.” With my body shaking, and sweat pouring down my face, I pick up my phone and manage to dial her number. It rings and rings, my heart pounding. Pick up, Janelle!
When I get her voicemail, I hang up and dial again. On the fourth try, I realize she isn’t going to answer. “Help! I need her. I need help!” My heart is pounding harder now, and I feel like I’ll be sick again. I focus my gaze on the bathroom wall, paint cracking along the edge.
I drop onto the floor, dropping my head into my hands. “Carlos. He’s back and he’s going to kill me. My mom said I should just give into him. Maybe I should end my misery and just call him. At least I won’t have to wait for him to find me. No, I can’t do that. Could I?”
I force myself up and into my bedroom, opening my side table, and pulling open the drawer. I find the stack of folded papers for prospective colleges underneath Janelle’s beauty samples from Sephora. I sit on my bed and ruffle through them. Princeton. Yale. Columbia. I try to take in a few deep breaths, but my nausea intensifies. “I can’t give into Carlos. I need to stand strong. Just a few more months. But how?”
Visions of the dead cat flashback in front of my eyes. I run back to the toilet to dry heave. When my body understands there’s nothing left inside me to puke, I sit up and lean against the cold tile wall. “I’ve got a dead animal and a pile of vomit by my front door. I need to clean it up, but I can’t. I just can’t do it.”
Like a flash through my head: “Angelo. I need to call Angelo. He’ll know what to do. Does removing the dead body of a cat count as a favor to the Borignones? Maybe it does. But I have no other option right now.”
He answers on the third ring. “Hey, doll. Everything okay?” His voice is laced with concern.
“No, Angelo. Something’s happened. It’s Carlos—”
“Take a breath. I can’t hear you and everything sounds muffled.”
I inhale and exhale deeply a few times, opening my mouth to speak again. “Carlos. He’s b-back. He left a dead cat on my doorstep!” I pant. “It’s there.” My voice is frantic, chest shaking. “I threw up—” Gasp. “I puked ev-ev-everywhere.” I exhale, trying to compose myself so I can speak while fluids fall from every crevice of my face. “I can’t go back out. There’s b-blood. A cat. He left me a dead cat—”
“Okay,” he says calmly while I grip the phone like a lifeline. “I’m out in Jersey right now on business, and won’t be back until work in the morning. But don’t worry—I’m going to send Stix back to you, all right? He’ll be there. Same guy who brought you home. Remember, he’s very tall and built. Long black hair and green eyes. He’ll knock three times on your door. Do not open the door unless you hear that knock, got it? Three times.”
“Y-yeah, Angelo. I got it. I r-r-remember him.”
“He’ll clean it all up for you. Do you have a friend you can call and stay with tonight? You can’t be alone there. Janelle workin’ late?”
“Uh-huh. I think she said she was staying at her boyfriend’s after work… I—”
“And that good-for-nothing piece of shit mom of yours. Fuckin’ Irina.” He practically spits out her name. “Probably on some bender.” He lets out a breath over the phone.
“You gotta call a friend, okay? No stayin’ alone tonight. Get outta that shit hole. If you can’t think of anyone, I’ll arrange for you to go somewhere. We’ll talk about all of this shit when we see each other tomorrow. I’m not letting you get hurt, do you understand me? If I need to send a friend a’ mine over to stand guard at your door, I’ll do it. Maybe you gotta live with me or with that teacher of yours for a while—”
I listen to him intently, my stomach feeling raw. I grip the phone harder, my knuckles turning white. “I’ll think of someone to call for tonight.”
“I’m gonna call Stix now. He’ll be there soon. Call me and we’ll make sure you got somewhere to go.” He hangs up the phone and my head spins.
Who the hell can I call? Other than Janelle’s friends, I have none of my own. I’m afraid if I tell anyone from the Blue Houses, it’ll get around what happened to me. And gossip always makes things worse. I bet that’s what Carlos wants. He wants to scare the shit out of me and everyone else. He wants to hear that I freaked-the-fuck-out. I know that piece of shit; he gets off on terrorizing people. Even if I could call a friend from the building, I wouldn’t put them in that kind of danger. And, if people knew Carlos was after me, they wouldn’t want to come anywhere near me! Even Janelle could be in danger right now. What if he uses her to get to me?
My mind keeps moving through all kinds of scenarios when I hear three consecutive knocks at my door. I jump up and nervously walk to my door.
“Who is it?” I say with a shaking voice.
What if Carlos knocked three times? Three times is a perfectly normal number of knocks. I stand on my tippy-toes and stare through the peephole in the front door. It’s the driver, Stix. I was so concerned with getting home earlier I didn’t take in all of his features. In this moment, I realize how stupid that was. Through the peephole, I give him a once-over, making sure he isn’t some random thug pretending to be Stix.
He speaks. “Eve? It’s me, Stix. Angelo sent me,” he says through the door in a deep voice. “Why don’t you just wait inside and let me take care a’ this. I’ll remove the, uh, animal, and clean the floor for you. Got all my cleaning supplies with me; it was already in the back of my car. Just relax, a’ight? Angelo told me you’re like a daughter to him, you don’t gotta be scared of me. I’ll be quick.”
I let out a small squeak in reply before turning around, leaning my back against the door, and sliding to the floor so I’m sitting against it. I press my head back against the door, listening to him work. The sound of him cleaning is soothing.
I hear him grumbling about something and he barks out, “You there?” I knock against the door, letting him know that I’m near.
“The cat is gone now and I’m cleaning the mat with something that’s pretty damn strong. Got any Lysol?”
“Uh huh,” I reply.
Seconds seem to pass. Minutes maybe. “I’m waitin’.”
I finally stand up and walk to my cleaning closet, grabbing the spray. Holding the can reminds me I have a gun. I run into my room and pull it out of my purse. I instantly feel better. I want to open the door, but my stomach suddenly drops. I can’t open the door. Terror starts to build again. I feel wetness pouring out of my eyes. I can’t do this.
“I can’t open the door,” I say, my voice quivering.
“Okay. No worries. I got a daughter myself, okay? I said it, but I’ll tell you again. I’m cleanin’ shit up. No worries.” I hear a scrubbing sound again and try to focus on it.
“You still there?” he asks again.
“Yeah,” I reply against the door.
“Call a friend. This shit is all clean now.”
And with those parting words, he leaves. I look through the peephole to make sure no one is near and let out a breath and text Angelo.
ME: Stix came and left. It’s done.
If I can just find someone to be with me for a few hours, maybe Janelle will finally answer the phone and I can be with her tonight. Maybe I can even crash with her on Leo’s couch. I try calling her another few times, but still, no answer. My heart pounds. What if she’s gone?
I pick up the phone with my heart in my chest, calling her salon. They tell me that she’s in the middle of doing someone’s highlights and she won’t be done until close to ten-thirty. Relief hits me so hard that I try not to bawl.
Janelle may be safe for now, but I still need to get the hell out of here in the meantime. I scroll through my contacts until I find Vincent’s name and open up a message. I need to do this quickly before I think too hard about it and chicken out. The cursor blinks and I have no idea what I should type. There’s no way in hell I’m going to tell him what happened to me. If he knew, he’d just think of me as some pathetic loser living in a crack den. I want him to see me as more than that. At the same time, I can’t stay here alone right now. My lock is bullshit and can probably be cracked open within seconds. Vincent is strong and can protect me…and just the thought of him, of being with him, makes me feel secure. But, I haven’t spoken to him in over a month! What if he doesn’t want to hear from me? I look up again at the stack of college stuff spread out on my bed, and it gives me the strength I need. I’m doing this. Deep in my gut, I know that being with him right now is the right move. I need to at least try.