After a curt demand for her brother’s address, Anthony started the truck and tried to ignore guilty feelings concerning his sister. Nisha’s essence lingered from when X had driven her to the airport earlier. It permeated the truck cab prompting him to roll down his window.

"Is this your truck?" Christy asked, glancing around the cab.

"Yeah. Why? Not fancy enough for you?" he asked, without looking at her.

"It's just a question," she replied, surprised that he seemed to find her inquiry insulting.

Christy watched him as they drove in silence. She recognized the exotic aroma of an extremely expensive lady’s perfume. She studied Anthony’s profile and wondered about the woman who’d recently been in the truck. Up until this moment, she hadn't seen him as anything other than a dark and menacing criminal who'd managed to turn her life upside down in less than twenty-four hours. Thinking that there was a woman in his life humanized him somehow.

She hadn’t been lying or trying to make excuses–her brother, Richard, wouldn’t believe she had a man in her life. She’d told the truth. Richard wouldn’t believe it because not once had Christy brought a boyfriend home to meet her family. Not even when she was still in school. She wasn’t one of those girls whose folders in high school displayed elaborate doodles of her latest boy crush. She hadn’t participated in any clubs, sports, or extracurricular activities. She’d never giggled after catching a boy’s eye at the lunch table or on the bleachers. No dances, no proms, no homecoming. It meant no girlfriends and definitely no boyfriends. It wasn’t like kids hadn’t tried. Most girls looked at a connection with someone like Christy Chapman as a step up, but she always rebuffed any attempts at friendship. She quickly earned a reputation for being the snobbiest girl around. High school for her hadn’t been an escape from the reality of her circumstances. Rather it had been endured so she could graduate and move out of her family’s home. Besides, the fewer people she let inside her inner circle, the less risk there was of her family’s dysfunction being exposed or of Van getting his lecherous hands on some unsuspecting teenager. She scoffed out loud at her own musings. She didn’t have an inner circle. You need friends to make up a circle. There was no one. She was alone.

After hearing her scoff, Anthony looked over. “Still don’t think you can convince your brother I’m your boyfriend?” Before she could answer, he added rudely, “Guess I don’t look like your typical upper-class snot-nosed kid.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s not that.” She paused, ignoring his last comment and asked, “Don’t we need time to come up with a back story? I mean, you want to walk in there cold turkey? What if he asks us something that we don’t know the answer to?” She quickly added, “And you’re obviously a lot older than me. That might be hard for anyone—not just Richard and Nadine—to believe.”

He shot her a look. “How old do you think I am?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Just older.”

“I’m thirty-two,” he answered. “I’ll be thirty-three later this year. I guess you’ve only dated boys. We’ll convince him you prefer men.”

“Thirty-three?” she practically screamed. “When I said I thought you were older I meant like twenty-eight, twenty-nine at the most. I didn’t know you were in your thirties. You don't look that old.”

“Yeah, well, you’re legal so it shouldn’t matter either way,” he quipped. He wasn’t insulted that she thought he was ancient. He found it amusing, kind of like the beeswax comment, and it irked him more than he admitted. Anthony Bear rarely found anyone or anything amusing.

“So, how did we meet?” she asked.

“You got a flat tire. I stopped to help you change it. We flirted. I asked you to dinner. We keep it simple. If he wants you to elaborate, you tell him we’re still figuring it out and you don’t want to say too much.”

She didn’t reply so he decided to goad her a little. “And if he pushes and wants to know why you don’t want to say too much, you tell him it’s because you’re crazy about me and you don’t want to jinx it.” Why are you engaging her? he asked himself. This is business, pure and simple. Find Van, get the money he owes, get rid of her.

He heard her gasp while staring out her window and mumbling under her breath, “That is not simple. I can never see myself being crazy about an overbearing, bullying, kidnapping, stubborn criminal. Especially an old one. Never!”

She snapped her head around and glared at him. “You think you’re so smart. That you have this all figured out. Fine. I’ll play along, but only to prove to you that it won’t work. You don’t need to meet my brother. Drop me at the house and come back for me. I told you before I won’t cause any trouble. I hate Van just as much as you do!”

“No,” was all he said.

“And how should I explain this?” she asked, gesturing toward her forehead and the prominent purple knot.

“The truth. You walked into the edge of an open door,” he answered matter-of-factly.

Twenty minutes later they pulled into Rolling Meadows, a tasteful subdivision that Anthony was familiar with. Native Touch serviced a few clients in this upper-middle class neighborhood.

They drove up to a pale-yellow house with white trim. The yard was sparsely landscaped but neat. What looked like a brand-new station wagon was sitting in the driveway. Anthony pulled in behind it and noticed the Bobbi Bowen decal on the back of the car, right below the window.

“Thought you said your brother was disinherited,” he said pointedly. “This is a nice house and that,” he said nodding at the car in front of him, “looks brand spanking new from your grandmother’s dealership.” He was certain that Bobbi Bowen didn’t sell station wagons. This must’ve been a special purchase.

Without looking at him, Christy replied, “I bought them the car. The one Nadine was driving had seen better days. I wanted her to have something safe to drive the kids around in.” She opened the door and got out. Anthony followed her up to the front door. She knocked twice and went in.

She stopped short, and Anthony almost bumped into her. Christy slowly scanned the living room that was in disarray. Cardboard boxes, some taped closed and some still open, were scattered on the floor. The coffee table and end tables were cluttered with items that didn’t belong in the living room. Just then, a little boy appeared in the hallway. He ran to Christy and wrapped his arms tightly around her legs. She picked him up and hugged him close.

“Cody, where are Mommy and Daddy? Where's Nana?”

Before the little boy could answer, she caught sight of Nadine walking toward her. She slowly lowered Cody to the floor and tried to mentally wrap her mind around what was happening.

Anthony didn’t say anything as he watched the beautiful woman approach Christy. He knew instantly she was a Native American. She gave Anthony a curious look before returning her eyes to Christy. Eyes which instantly burst into tears.

Christy fired off a litany of questions, not giving Nadine time to answer any of them.

“What is it? What’s wrong, Nadine? Where’s Richard? I didn’t see his car out front. Is everything okay? Is the baby okay? Is Nana okay?”

Nadine pulled Christy in for a close hug. Her shoulders were shaking. Christy carefully removed herself and held Nadine by her shoulders.

“What is going on?” she asked with concern, steering Nadine toward the couch.

“Who’s that?” came a little voice from the middle of the room. They all looked at Cody who was standing there, pointing at Anthony.

“That’s Anthony. He’s my friend, Cody,” was all Christy said. Her obvious concern for her brother’s girlfriend and finding out what was wrong negated the plan to introduce Anthony as her boyfriend. As a matter of fact, she’d forgotten Anthony was even with her until Cody asked about him. She was afraid to hear what Nadine was going to tell her. Scary thoughts of car accidents and heart attacks were swirling in her brain. All kinds of frightening scenarios pounced on her, and she recognized the fear that was pooling in her stomach.

As Nadine explained the situation, the fear was replaced with fury so intense, Christy could feel herself trembling.

Apparently, nobody had been hurt. At least not yet, Christy thought. Richard had gone back to his old ways. Nadine explained how she'd suspected he was seeing someone else before Zachary was born, but she didn’t want to believe it. However, her fears were confirmed when Richard insisted that she sign over the title of the car that Christy had bought them.

“He wanted to trade our car in for a new one. For his girlfriend,” Nadine cried. “When I wouldn’t do it, he took what little savings we had and gambled with it. I guess he won or maybe traded in his car,” she said sadly. “I didn’t even know he’d cleaned out our bank account until yesterday when he showed up here with her and the new car. He told me that I have until tonight to get my things moved out.” She let out a big sob. “I have no choice. It’s his house. Oh, Christy!" she cried, swiping at her tears. "I can’t believe this happened. I don’t know what to do. There’s no time to find somewhere to go. I was hoping Nana and the boys and I could stay with you until I can figure something out.”

She sniffled and looked at Christy as if seeing her for the first time. “What happened to your head?” she asked. Her words were sincere, and it warmed Christy’s heart to know that even with everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours, Nadine was concerned for her.

“It’s nothing. I walked into a door,” she told her, brushing off the inquiry as she tried to focus on what her brother had done. How had she ever let herself think that Richard could change? He was an irresponsible, womanizing, gambling, cheating, rotten human being. Same as Van.

Christy jumped up, her fists balled at her sides. “No,” she said, looking down at Nadine. “No, Nadine. You can’t stay with me.”

Anthony, standing off to the side, had watched the entire exchange. He shifted when Christy told Nadine no. Sure, she could drop a brand-new car in the driveway. When you had as much money as Christy Chapman seemed to have, it was like throwing a dog a bone. But when it came to something that didn’t involve her checkbook, the entitled heiress couldn’t be bothered. She was shallow and self-serving. Exactly like he’d thought. With a self-righteous smirk, he crossed his arms and glared at her.

They were interrupted by a loud engine outside. A shiny new Camaro rolled up on to the lawn. They watched from the front picture window as Richard and a woman got out of the car and approached the front door. Anthony immediately recognized the type of woman Richard was with. She had all the makings of a serious drug user who tried to hide behind too much makeup and knock-off designer clothes—he could spot an addict a mile away. Richard wasn’t what Anthony had expected. Christy was short and filled out, where Richard was tall and overly thin. Almost sickly thin, Anthony thought. He had the same skin tone as Christy, but it looked paler because it contrasted with his dark hair.

The door opened and Richard waltzed in, his eyes immediately finding Nadine. “Good,” he said. “I guess you got someone with a truck to help you get your things out of here.” His normal skin tone seemed paler after he noticed Anthony. Since Anthony was obviously Native American, Richard probably assumed he was a relative of Nadine’s.

Preferring to look anywhere other than at the larger-than-life man filling his living room, Richard’s eyes fell on his sister. It was obvious by his expression that he hadn’t expected Christy to be there. The woman who’d followed him in surveyed the room, ignoring its occupants. With her hands on her hips, she whined, “Ricky, promise me we’ll get new furniture. This looks like something that was in my grandmother’s house.”

Christy noticed from the corner of her eye as Cody started to run toward Richard, but was immediately pulled back by Nadine.

“Marcia,” Richard said, never taking his eyes off his sister. “Umm…Marcia. This is my sister, Christy. I’ve told you about Christy.”

“Oh, yeah,” Marcia replied, cracking her gum. “Nice to meet ya, Christy.”

Marcia began to shrivel under Christy’s glare as she recognized her misplaced sense of welcome. Evidently, Marcia had convinced herself that the Bobbi Bowen heiress would be happy to see her brother with a respectable white woman instead of the Seminole trash he’d been shacking up with. She couldn’t have been more mistaken.

Christy slowly approached her brother, doing her best to harness her anger. Her hands were still clenched at her sides and she had to will herself not to punch him. She was now standing so close she had to stifle a cough from the overwhelming stench of Marcia’s cheap perfume. It was all she could do not to spit in the woman’s face.

She took a big breath and measured her words carefully. In an even voice, she told him through clenched teeth, “I hope that Camaro," she nodded toward the window, "has a big trunk, Richard. Nadine isn’t moving. You are. This is my house. And you don’t have until tonight to get out. I suggest you grab what’s yours now, because you won’t be coming back here. Ever.”

“What?” Marcia asked, surprised. “Richard, you told me this was your house,” she snarled.

Ignoring Marcia, Richard addressed his sister. “You’re kicking me out? Your own brother? Are you joking, Christy?”

“You’re trash, Richard. You’ll always be trash. I thought you’d finally gotten smart. Nadine is the best thing that ever happened to you, and you ruined it because you’re incapable of change. The clock is ticking. Get out or I’ll call the police and have you removed.”

Richard stood there slack-jawed for a moment before he grabbed Marcia by the arm and headed outside. “C’mon, hon, there’s nothing here that I want.”

“The car is mine though, right? You bought it for me? I get to keep the car, don’t I?” Marcia harped as Richard dragged her out of the house leaving the sick-smelling trail of her cheap perfume behind them.

Anthony watched the entire scene in a state of shock. He never expected Christy had denied Nadine’s request for a place to stay because she owned the home and never intended to evict the woman.

He watched with approving eyes as Christy followed her brother out of the house. Apparently, explaining who Anthony was and why he was with Christy had been a non-issue after all. He decided to follow Christy out the door and observed as she headed for the driver’s door of his truck. Anthony watched her open it and reach for what was behind his seat—something she must've noticed on the drive over. She slammed the truck door shut and headed for the Camaro. He broke into a run to try and head Christy off, but he wouldn’t make it in time.

An agitated Marcia had retrieved her cigarettes from inside the car and was now leaning up against the side of it, trying to light one up while she shoved Richard away from her. He was obviously trying to placate her. She finally managed to light it and took a long, slow drag. Neither one of them saw Christy coming, but they both jumped when the tire iron hit the front window on the passenger side. Christy was heading for the driver’s side when Anthony finally intercepted her.

“Don't, Princess. Calm down. Don’t make a scene. It’ll only bring the cops. Let them go,” Anthony said in a hushed tone as he wrapped his arms around her from behind.

“Let someone call the cops,” she screamed. “I don’t care. There’re probably drugs in it anyway. I won’t get in trouble, they will!”

This caught Richard’s attention, and he yelled for Anthony to keep his crazy sister away from them.

Anthony wrestled the tire iron from Christy and shoved her toward the waiting arms of Nadine who’d followed them out and was now pulling Christy back toward the house.

Richard tried not to show how shaken he was as he helped Marcia climb into the passenger side of the Camaro. Making his way to the driver’s door, Richard stopped to deliver a parting shot. He stood with the door open, ready to climb in. “Princess, huh? You think my sister’s a princess?” he asked Anthony.

So, he’d heard Anthony’s quiet words attempting to calm her down. Anthony didn’t answer him.

“She’s a bigger whore than Marcia!” Ignoring Marcia’s objection from inside the car he continued, “Ask her about the time she broke my grandmother’s heart. The summer of ’74. She took off right before Grandma’s birthday to shack up with her middle-aged boyfriend. Had my family on edge for almost four months, but guess what? The princess,” he sneered, “came home just in time to open her Christmas presents. That’s the princess I know.”

Without waiting for an answer, Richard got in and started the car. Shifting into reverse he leveled the mailbox before speeding away.