When the Smoke Clears (Interracial Firefighter Romance) (25 page)

As if he heard me, he wheeled himself back a little. “Where’s my money?”

I pulled out a twenty and showed him. “Where is she?”

“So you owe her money?”

“Yeah.”

“Cicely don’t let nobody owe her anything. She makes sure everyone pays up right on time.” He placed his other hand into his jacket. “So who are you again?”

“I’m her ex-husband.”

Disbelief showed on his face. “You trying to reunite with that sweet little lady.”

“No. We have kids together. I’m trying to help her.”

“That makes more sense. She said she had an ex that’s a hero. She claims she got the most beautiful girls ever seen in the world. Says they are smart and going to be something big one day.”

“She’s right.”

“Good. Cicely ain’t that bad, when you don’t bother her.” He pointed to the crappy hotel. “She’s in room 291. They call me
The Vet
. You need to find her or something else, just stop over here and I’ll roll over.”

“Okay.”

“Just know that I’m no hero.” Frowning, he took his hand out of his jacket. “And I don’t do anything for free.”

“Got it.” I looked to where he gestured.

The owner had called it
Oasis
. Perhaps back in the early 1900s the sign had been a work of art with a beautiful painting of the beach and a sun setting into the ocean. Now it was a disaster. Someone had graffited the sign. They’d made the sun a woman with a large open mouth and a bulging penis dripping stuff onto her lips. They’d even put a big H in front of the name and an E and dash before the a.

Instead of Oasis, it was now
Hoe-asis
.

What a great bunch of kids? Just adding to the positivity over here.

Blue paint cracked all over the brick foundation. Bed sheets hung from some of the room’s windows replacing the curtains the owner didn’t purchase. The place looked like it was under construction. Some doors had a taped X over the door and out of order signs in the middle. The parking lot was filled with large potholes and cracks. The dumpster over flowed with the oddest things--a leather-covered mannequin stuck out of the top, as well as bags of clothes and boxes of glass bottles.

The place was a dump.

Yet, cars packed the place and people walked in and out of rooms.

I turned back to him. “Are you sure it’s 291?”

“Yeah.”

I gave him the twenty and he rolled away, right as I got out of the car. He was fast, too, just using one hand to move as he spoke into his walkie-talkie.

He must be somebody’s look out.

After locking all the doors, I left my car there and thanked God that more expensive and shiny cars sat in the lot. If someone hoped to steal one, it probably wouldn’t be mine. Real money flowed here. Many of the vehicles were foreign and brand new. Some big timers lay their fat bellies in these shabby beds, possibly doing disgusting things to women who were already dead inside.

Why?

That one word ran in my head repeatedly.

Why, God, would you allow this? Why is this okay? Why can’t everyone get out of this? Why am I here today?

A cold wind blew by me. At fifty degrees, it was the chilliest night for this fall.

I found the stairs and climbed them to the second floor. On one side, no railing existed. It was a clear building violation, but I doubted that the city even cared. A sticky substance stuck to the railing that I used. A fog of smoke lingered on the top, and it wasn’t the kind from marijuana. It smelled too chemical and rotten. Too evil and destructive. I could taste the corruption in the air and it was hard to swallow. Plus, I knew I would never forget that flavor or the sadness that clung in the air.

Damn you, Cicely. Why would you stay in this place? Are you really that far gone? Well, you’ve turned to the streets. You must be. Will I even be able to save you?

Thank God, her room stood all the way at the end. Thank God, it was one with real curtains hanging in a clean window next to a door that definitely worked. Thank God, I hoped the power of Him walked on this level with me. Or, I probably would’ve never been able to make the long trek down this shadowed path where women groaned loudly and men grunted and others screamed and cried through the doors.

Thank God, that Cicely was the mother of my kids, because a few times, I almost stopped and turned around. I was a big guy with enough muscle to make many men think several times before messing with me, yet terror beat loud in my ears and my blood surged cold and frosty through my veins.

A few times, strange shadowed faces peeked out from bed sheet covered windows and ragged doors. Thank God, I didn’t jump and show them all how weak of a target I’d become.

Why am I here? What am I even going to say? Hey, Cicely. I was just in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by. If a cop catches me around here, it’s going to raise some questions. Granted, they’ll test me and see I didn’t use any drugs, but would they think that I was there for prostitutes?

I made it to room 291, inhaled, exhaled, and knocked.

Cicely’s cold voice came through the door. “I’ll be done in a minute.”

Some guy grunted.

“Never mind.” She laughed. “I’m done. Give me a second.”

Shuffling came from the other end, and then, whispers. Keys dangled and some clothes ruffled and then, the door opened. A fat piece of crap guy walked out. He reeked more than the guy in the wheel chair. I would’ve bet a hundred dollars that he’d gone to the bathroom in his pants. Those battered things hugged his fat legs and showed dark, wet spots on his big behind.

Jesus Christ. What are you doing to yourself, Cicely?

Naked, she stepped outside and her eyes widened. “No way. No fucking way. Don’t tell me you want a ride on the dark side, tonight?”

“Put some clothes on. We have to talk.” I tried to walk into her shabby, dark room, but she blocked my way. Too bad, she hadn’t hidden the view. She had the lights off. But, moonlight cast the bed in a horrifying glow. Crumbled sheets lay in a pile on the floor. It was just a dirty mattress with glass pipes next to a pillow.

I stepped back, not wanting to go in there anyway.

Fear filled her eyes. “Did something happen to the girls?”

“No.”

She exhaled. “Oh. Good.”

At least she cares that they are alive. At least the drug hasn’t burned away all of her heart.

She made no move to cover herself as she came all the way out of the door. “Why are you here?”

“I want to take you out of here and help you.”

“How are you going to help me,
Sweet and Low
?” She reached out to touch me, and I stepped back.

“I can do better than this.” I gestured to the hotel. “You can do better than this.”

“What?” She tossed me a mocking look. “You’re not impressed with
Hoe-asis
?”

“No,” I said through clenched teeth. “I’m not impressed at all. Let me get you out of here.”

“And where would I go? Back to your house with the girls? You’re going to let me sit in your house by myself? You trust me around the girls when you’re not around?”

“We’ll figure out something, Cicely. I just can’t let you do this to yourself.”

“And what am I doing?”

“Killing yourself, slowly.”

“No, baby. I’m making some money” She grabbed my crotch.

I knocked her hand away. “Stop touching me.”

“It’s one hundred for a BBFS.”

“What the hell is that?”

“Sex without a condom.”

“Jesus!” I said it a little louder than I wanted. How could she ruin herself this way? I wanted to punch her or the wall or the fucking world or parents that created this hate inside of her.

No. I can’t have her in the house or around the girls. It’s one thing for her to ruin her own life, it’s another to ruin mine and our daughters. Then what would Kassie say? Would she even understand? How would the girls feel to see her this way? Maybe she could stay with Mom.

Wearing bored expression, Cicely crossed her arms over her chest. “Either go or come inside to fuck me.”

“Tell me what I can do to help you get off the drugs.”

She laughed. “You think I would be better off without them? I’m even worse.”

“What do you mean?”

“Leave me alone. You’re just doing this for your conscious. You feel bad because that’s how your mother raised you. Well my mother raised me different. She taught me that my pussy was worth more than anything at eight years old. Had me giving blowjobs before I even got my period. It’s a wonder I didn’t have AIDS by the time I met you, but guess who has it now?”

My hands shook at my sides. My insides threatened to crumble and take me down with them.

“I’m going to put your mind at ease. Let’s finally give your conscious some peace,” she said. “I love you.”

My voice was just a weak and pathetic thing. “What?”

“I love you. You’re the only one that tried. You’re the only one that cared. I love you and our beautiful twins.” A weak smile showed on her face. “But the problem is I love getting high more. I can’t walk around unless I’m numb and all the thoughts and memories are just fading, blurring visions in my mind.”

“But I bet if you talked to someone and went to a facility they could help you.”

“I know and I don’t care. That’s what you have to understand. I know there’s a way to be better, but it looks too square. This is what I want, and I love you for giving it to me.” She scratched her arms.

I shook my head. “You’re high now, aren’t you? You’re making no sense.”

“I’m always high,
Sweet and Low
. Now either come inside the room or go.”

“But Cicely—”

“I love you because you take care of the only reason why I was put on this earth. You’re a good man to my girls. That’s why I was born. Did you know that?”

I had nothing else to say. My heart had broken too much from hearing that she had AIDS.

“Sometimes at night, I dream about what they will look like when they’re women. I bet one of them will be President of the United States. It could happen.” She stared at me with hope. “Right?”

“Yes. It could happen.”

“Hope is going to be an amazing artist. She’s going to change the world. What was that thing you always used to say? You got it from one of those damn books you would read. Our purpose is making things—”

“Our purpose is to co-create the world with God. To help him make it better.”

“That’s right.” She nodded and backed up into her dingy room. “I’ve done my purpose. I’ve made two girls that will rule the world. Now leave me alone, unless I need something.”

“Cicely—”

“You said that when we die, we become energy.”

“I. . .it’s just one of my many theories. But, Cicely we should—”

“Yeah, you said God is a great energy. A huge power, and that we all return to that energy and swim and flow and then we’re reborn into someone else and back to the world to co-create again?”

“Cicely, I don’t know. I might’ve said that once. Sometimes, I’m just happy to see God’s energy around me.”

Cicely smiled as if I confirmed that theory, and that the confirmation was enough. “Then I’m going to be okay. Goodnight,
Sweet and Low
. Try not to get stabbed or robbed, before you get back to your car.”

Chapter 17

Kassie

M
ama
Ganga never showed up the rest of the week. It didn’t matter. I’d been writing, a lot—my Luna story and something new. To Sam’s possible delight, I’d decided to steal from my own life and pen a fire fighter romance. I damn sure had the material, and Lorenzo would be a perfect hero to model my male character from.

The phone rang, before I could finish typing out the third chapter in the new novel. I put the device to my ear. “Hello?”

Lorenzo’s words flowed in my ears. “I just needed to hear your voice, Kassie.”

He sounded odd. I leaned back in my chair. “Needed or wanted to hear my voice?”

The word cracked over the line. “Both.”

I blinked. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing you can help me with.”

“Why not?”

“Because the situation can’t be helped.”

“Why not?” I asked again.

“Because the person is already lost.”

“Who?”

He paused.

“You don’t want to say.” I asked.

“No.”

“Why not?” I asked again.

“Because the situation would probably scare you away.”

“I don’t scare that easily.”

“Bullshit, Kassie. You’ve been scared since day one.”

“Well. . .”
Okay. He’s got me there.
“Well. . .I’m cleansing the fear out of my senses, so I may not be as easy to get rid of as you think. What’s going on? In fact, hold on.”