Page 4 of Stay, Baby
Bash melts, literally. Bending at the knees he catches my eye. "Shh. You can go whenever you want now. But know, I'm usually right about these things and I think you wouldlovethe community at Reclaiming Red."
"How?"
"How do I know?" he guesses and I nod. "Because you look like you could use something soft to hold onto and some guidance. Think about it, little one. Come by tomorrow or Friday and tell one of us you're there for a job. You'll be welcome any time."
"Okay." Something about this man shifting from silly buff guy to dominant and encouraging makes me itchy. "H-home now."
"Sure. Please be safe and we hope to see you soon, Lucinda."
Tears immediately spring to my eyes, the vulnerability pushing me away. I notice Bash's eyes widening with worry but I run faster than he can catch me. I'm regressing way too fast. It's not safe for others to see me this way. They'll hurt me.
Home. Need to be home.
three
LULU
If there's anything I'm good at, it's admitting defeat. I've been forced to acknowledge my weaknesses too many times to count. Each time I bowed my head and took what I deserved.
It's a lot easier to give in to the bullying voices than fight back. Plus, I'm grossly underweight and less than five and a half feet tall. I'm not dainty and cute like some women are. I'm bones and scars.
Which is why I look like a kid playing dress-up in her mom's clothes today. I don’t like it, but it's necessary. I don't have anything nice to wear to the job interview.
Glancing down at the pamphlet in the passenger seat for the hundredth time in the fifteen-minute drive, I gulp.What am I doing?
"I'm getting a job like I hoped to do when I went to that stupid fair," I argue and tug on the soft strings around Binks' edges. Since I can't reasonably walk to the address on the pamphlet, I took the rusty truck my father hasn't driven in a year.
The gas thingy doesn't work so I'm not sure how far it will go until I run out. Then I'll really be in trouble. Honestly, I'm just glad Mom's phone was still in her room when she passed. Thatsoundshorribleand makes me want to cry, but I needed the maps on it to get to Reclaiming Red.
I haven't used it for anything else, nor have I snooped.
The truck bangs loudly as I hit a pothole, making me scream and clutch onto Binks tighter. It's not safe or smart, but my Little peeks through with a whimper and I drag my blankie up to tickle beneath my nose.
I feel better for a moment but the road yanks me around until I'm sure I'll never make it home alive. I haven't even made it to my destination yet and I'm already contemplating my imminent death.
"Just get me there," I plead, releasing Binks and white-knuckling the steering wheel. As if something heard my prayers, the directions pop me out onto a road that feels brand-new beneath the bare tires of the truck.
"Sheesh," I sigh, and allow my shoulders to slump. Maybe once I save up enough money, I'll apply to get my license. Or however that works.
Adamantly ignoring the fact that if I get this job someone will ask for my identification, I bite my lip the rest of the journey.
When the drive is over I'm surprised I'm ready to turn my booty right back around and hide in the run-down house my father left me in for all eternity. Not that I would have wanted to leave with him.
Beyond the open gates is my worst nightmare. In no way shape or form do I belong in a building as grand as this one.
It's not sleek with all glass windows but it's close. The outside mixes modern gray and red brick beautifully. There's no way I could possibly explain how big it is. It looks like it could be a hotel in a big city. Or like abigresort in the woods, which now that I'm thinking it, is exactly what it looks like.
Knock, knock.
"AHH!" A high-pitched scream rips my throat to shreds. I yank Binks up to just below my eyes. Hiding is what I'm good at. I'm small enough to fit in tiny spaces but boney enough that it usually hurts.
"Woah, woah, hey!" The man outside of the truck window shouts but it sounds muffled through the barrier. His hands are up in a placating gesture but I've seen how fast a hand in that position can go from innocence to a backhand across my cheekbone.
"It's okay, honey. I'm just the guard for the entrance. My job is to keep everyone inside the perimeter safe. That includes you."
Does that mean he has a gun?
"Okay, that's okay. You just keep driving and I'll have someone meet you at the main door. You'll see it's right beneath the ridiculously large arch."
