The Lexus GX sat tucked at the far side of the church lot where the building threw a long strip of shadow and the sun hit the asphalt in a pale glare. The day was bright without being warm.
From where they were parked, the daycare side of the church was close enough that sound carried. A door opened and shut. A child squealed, then laughed. Someone rolled a cart over a seam in the concrete and it clacked twice before the wheels found smooth again. Every so often, a car moved through the lot slow, looking for a spot closer to the entrance, then kept going.
Inside the SUV, it was close and warm. The tinted windows turned the sunlight into a dull wash. The third row didn’t give much space. Leather held heat. The air smelled new, that replicated factory smell that hadn’t faded yet.
Caine and Laney sat back there facing each other. The second row was pushed forward enough to make a gap. Caine’s shirt had been tossed on the floor. It lay bunched near the base of the seat, one sleeve flattened under itself. Laney’s dress was unzipped and pulled down off her shoulders, bunched at her waist. Her legs were stretched across Caine’s lap.
He rubbed her calves in slow passes, palms working from ankle to knee and back again. His thumbs pressed in and slid, steady. Laney let her heels rest against his thigh and didn’t move much. The silence sat between them.
Laney stared at him for a moment, then shifted her gaze toward the front seats, the windshield, the bright lot beyond it.
“I thought you were gonna pull up in somethin’ with 28 inch rims on it when you said you got a new car.”
Caine snorted a laugh, the sound tight and quick. “A box Chevy like I’m from Houston, huh?”
Laney smiled, small and pleased. “Somethin’ just like that.”
Caine kept his hands on her legs. He looked down at where his fingers spread against her skin, then up at her face. “I got this for this reason right here, so I can fuck you without having to lay on the floor of your van’s trunk.”
Laney shoved him with her leg, a blunt push that made his shoulder shift. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with my van.”
“It’s clean,” Caine said. His hands didn’t stop. “That’s about all you got going for it, but you can’t tell me you didn’t prefer it on an actual seat.”
Laney rolled her eyes and let her head lean back against the seat. “I done fucked in more uncomfortable places than a van.”
Caine shook his head once. He kept rubbing, slower now. Outside, a burst of voices rose and fell, the muffled cadence of adults calling to kids, then a door shutting again.
Laney watched him work her calves for a few seconds. His hands were warm. The pressure was firm. She flexed her foot once, then let it go slack again.
“I caught Blake shootin’ up the other day,” she said.
Caine’s hands paused for half a beat at her shin, then kept going.. “You gonna make him get out of your backyard?”
Laney shrugged, her shoulders lifting. “That’s a Tommy call.”
Caine’s mouth tightened at one corner. “So, he ain’t getting out of your backyard.”
Laney looked at him, eyes narrowing. “Why you say that?”
“Because Tommy knows that his brother on that shit,” Caine said. “And he still let him stay.”
Laney’s mouth pressed flat. She nodded once. “Yeah, that’s ’bout the long and short of it.” She breathed out through her nose, then tipped her head a little. “There is a silver linin’ though.”
Caine raised an eyebrow. “What?”
Laney’s voice stayed low. “I ain’t got to worry ’bout him constantly bein’ in Tommy’s ear about us ’cause he’s worried I’ll figure out a way to convince Tommy to tell him to leave.”
Caine laughed, a short sound that barely filled the car. “You think Tommy still relying on him to tell him how to feel about this?”
Laney shook her head. “No, but one less thing don’t hurt none.”
Caine opened his mouth, about to answer, then stopped. His eyes cut toward the windshield. His hands tightened on her legs and he pulled.
Laney slid down fast, her calves slipping off his lap as her back hit the seat. The leather squeaked. The sudden shift dragged her dress higher where it was already bunched. She caught herself with one hand.
“What the fuck?” she said.
Caine’s voice dropped. “Mr. Charlie is in the field right in front of the car.”
Laney’s stomach went tight. She turned her head toward the front without lifting too much, trying to see through the tint. “Fuck me. Doin’ what?”
“Talking to Mrs. Ethel,” Caine said.
Laney kept her body low, shoulders tucked. “How dark is the tint on these windows?”
“They told me zero on every window but the driver’s side,” Caine said.
Caine scooted down the seat himself, careful and controlled, putting most of his head behind the headrest in front of him. From that angle, he could look out without showing much. Laney stayed still, knees bent now, feet tucked closer, her bare skin prickling where the air hit it.
“What they doin’ now?” Laney asked.
Caine watched through the gap between the headrest and the window. Sunlight flashed on something outside, then steadied. “Looks like they walking away.”
He turned his head just enough to look at her. He smiled when she shook her head, a tight, annoyed motion that still carried a hint of amusement because of how stupid the situation was.
Caine reached down and found his shirt on the floor. “I’m gonna get out first,” he said. “Wait like fifteen minutes and then you sneak out.”
Laney nodded once, sharp.
He pulled the shirt on, threading his arms through, tugging it down over his torso. The fabric stuck for a second against warm skin, then settled. He shifted forward between the rows, careful not to bump anything hard enough to make the car rock.
“Another reason your van is worse,” he said as he moved.
Laney kicked him, a quick jab to his side that made him grunt under his breath, a bit of a laugh in it. He kept going anyway, sliding between the seats and then out, stepping down onto the lot.
~~~
The bell had already gone off, but the hall still held that last burst of movement. Doors stayed propped open. Teachers stood half in, half out, holding the threshold with their bodies and their eyes. Sneakers squeaked against waxed tile.
Saul walked in the middle of it, shoulders set, chin up. He kept his pace steady even when the flow jammed up near the lockers. Trent was on his right, long stride eating space, mouth set in a line. Javi drifted on Saul’s left, the honeybun still in the plastic, top already mashed from where he’d squeezed it. He tore off a piece with his teeth and chewed with his mouth open, cinnamon and glaze on his fingertips.
Saul looked ahead, then leaned his head just enough for them to hear him.
“Caine told me how to make some money.”
Trent didn’t miss a step. His eyes stayed on the gap between two clusters of students.
“Did he tell you to get a fucking job because that’s what I would’ve told you.”
Saul shook his head at first, quick. Then he gave a small shrug that softened it.
“Yeah,” he said, “but that ain’t all he told me.”
Javi lifted his head off the honeybun. His eyes went sharp for a second. He swallowed.
“Whatever it is, I’m in.”
Trent let out a breath through his nose. He finally looked over at Saul.
“Fuck y’all want to play gangster so bad for?” Trent asked. “Do y’all not remember all the shit with Pedro?”
The name sat there between them as they kept walking. A girl in a uniform skirt brushed past, shoulder bumping Saul’s arm. Saul didn’t turn. He kept moving forward, shoulders square.
“I didn’t even tell you what he told me to do,” Saul said.
Javi waved the honeybun a little, crumbs shaking loose. A couple pieces stuck to the glaze on his thumb.
“Yeah,” Javi said. “Let him finish before you start trying to keep us broke. Everyone ain’t trying to work at McDonald’s.”
Trent’s mouth tightened. He tilted his head toward the classroom doors as they passed them, toward the teachers standing there.
“Working at McDonald’s better than going to jail.”
Javi waved that off. He took another bite and talked around it.
“Jail ain’t even that bad,” he said. “My cousin did a few months in OPP and came out fine. Right, Saul?”
Javi angled his face toward Saul, eyebrows up, waiting for Saul to back him up. Saul didn’t even look at him. He kept his eyes forward and shook his head once.
“He said what we gotta do is find whoever Ethan gets his weed from,” Saul said, “and then let him know that person’s name and he’ll take care of it so we can be the middle man.”
Trent slowed half a step from surprise, then caught up again. His eyes narrowed.
“How you even find out some shit like that?”
Saul shrugged. It didn’t come with a plan.
Javi’s grin came fast, teeth showing.
“We could beat it out of him,” Javi said. “Just gotta find some phonebooks or something.”
Saul sucked his teeth, loud enough to cut through the hallway noise for a second. He finally turned his head, just a fraction, and gave Javi a look that didn’t match the grin.
“C’mon, bro,” Saul said. “This ain’t no movie. There gotta be a way though.”
Trent didn’t even hesitate.
“The way is to just go get a job, man.”
Javi’s shoulders rose with a short laugh. He shook his head hard, like Trent was embarrassing himself.
“Bro,” Javi said, “you being a bitch. Man up.”
Trent’s eyes cut toward him. He didn’t stop walking, but his jaw worked like he wanted to bite the comment in half.
Saul let out a sigh that wasn’t loud, but it showed in his shoulders. He kept them moving down the hall, away from the classrooms with teachers watching and into the stretch where the lockers were tighter and the crowd pressed in.
Javi licked glaze off his finger and looked around. Trent’s hands flexed once at his sides, then settled back into his hoodie pocket.
They threaded between a couple students who were moving slow, talking loud. Saul angled his shoulder and slipped through without breaking stride. One of them glanced back, then kept walking.
The flow thinned near the intersection where two hallways met. Light from the windows at the end of one corridor cut across the tile. The noise shifted as a door opened somewhere, a teacher’s voice snapping, then fading when the door shut again.
Zoe and Mia came toward them from the other direction, moving with the same between-class urgency but not rushing. Zoe’s hair was down, long and neat, and she had a book hugged to her chest. Mia walked beside her, phone in her hand, thumb moving. They stayed close together, taking up their own lane through the crowd.
When they got close enough to pass, Zoe looked up. Her eyes landed on Saul. She didn’t stop. She didn’t say anything. She just offered him a polite smile, quick and clean.
Saul’s face didn’t change much, but his eyes followed her for the half second it took for them to cross. Then Zoe and Mia were gone, swallowed by students moving the other way, their shoulders disappearing behind backpacks and locker doors.
Saul turned back around.
He lifted both hands and hit Javi and Trent with the backs of his hands, light but sharp. It made Javi stumble a half step. Trent glanced at Saul, was already irritated again, but he stopped listening to whatever was in his head.
“I think I got an idea.”
~~~
Somewhere in the street below, tires hissed over wet pavement. A bass line drifted through the window glass, soft and distant, then fell away. Sirens stayed far enough not to matter, but they were still there, rising and dropping like the city was clearing its throat.
Sara sat angled into the corner, one knee up, wine glass steady in her hand. The stem warmed under her fingers. Nicole lounged on the other end with one leg folded under her, the other stretched out, heel hooked on the edge of the cushion. The bottle sat on the coffee table between them, half full, a damp ring widening under it.
Nicole took a sip and shook her head before she even put the glass back down.
“Okay,” she said. “So. Karlie.”
Sara lifted her brows. “Mm.”
“It was a disaster,” Nicole said. The words came clipped, like she was trying not to laugh at herself. “From beginning to end. I’m talking the whole damn thing.”
Sara’s mouth pulled into a smile. She shifted her knee, fabric whispering against fabric.
Nicole leaned forward, elbows on her thighs, wine glass balanced in one hand. The other hand moved as she talked, palm up, then palm down.
“I knew it was off,” Nicole said. “I knew it.”
Sara gave a small hum, still smiling, waiting.
Nicole stared into her glass, then looked back at Sara. “And the cherry on top,” she said, “her husband showed up.”
Sara blinked once. “Her what?”
“Her husband,” Nicole repeated, slower this time, like saying it twice would make it sound less ridiculous. “He pulls up to pick her up. Like it’s normal. Like it’s scheduled.”
Sara’s laugh hit quick, a burst she couldn’t hold back. She leaned forward, shoulders shaking, careful not to spill. “No,” she said, still laughing.
“Yes,” Nicole said. She rolled her eyes hard enough to make her head tilt with it. “And he’s standing there looking at me like I’m the one who’s confused.”
Sara laughed again, louder. She lifted her glass a little, then set it down on her knee again.
Nicole kept going, voice steady now that she’d started. “He suggests I should come with them to their place,” she said.
Sara’s laugh cut off into a surprised sound. “Oh lord.”
Nicole pointed at Sara with her glass. “ “And Karlie,” she added, “Karlie’s right there pushin’ it too. Like I’m supposed to be flattered. Like I’m supposed to say yes.”
Sara covered her mouth with the back of her hand, eyes watering from laughing. She leaned back into the couch, shoulders still moving.
“And I thought I had it bad,” Sara said. “I haven’t been asked anything like that since back when me and Calvin, Caine’s dad, first started dating.”
Nicole made a sound through her nose and leaned back. “Yet,” she said.
Sara dropped her hand from her mouth, eyes still bright. “Yet?”
“Yet,” Nicole said again, and rolled her eyes. “You haven’t been asked anything like that yet. It’s coming. Just wait a little while longer and you’ll see. They can’t help themselves.”
Sara laughed one more time, softer, and lifted her glass to take a drink. The wine tasted sharp for a second, then smoothed out. She held it in her mouth a beat before swallowing.
The room settled. The street noise filled the gaps. Nicole reached for the bottle and topped both glasses off, the liquid dark and slow as it ran down the side of the glass.
Sara looked down into her wine. The surface caught the light and shifted when she tipped it. Her thumb rubbed once at the base of the stem.
“Speaking of dating,” she asked, voice quieter now, “did you find out anything about Devin?”
Nicole shook her head. “Nothing came up,” she said.
Sara’s eyes stayed on the glass. She didn’t move much, just listened.
Nicole added, “You know if Devin’s a nickname or something?”
Sara shrugged, the motion tight in her shoulders. “That’s what’s on all his paperwork for being an agent.”
Nicole nodded. “If he has a record, it could be from when he was a kid and it’s been sealed,” she said. “Or he’s gotten it expunged. I’ll keep looking but as far as I can tell, he’s clean.”
Sara nodded once. She held the glass in both hands now, fingers wrapped around the bowl.
“Is it hypocritical that I’d have a problem dating him if he did?” she asked.
Nicole didn’t jump in. She let Sara finish.
“I mean,” Sara said, “Calvin had done a couple bids. And Lord knows that he probably could’ve ended up doing a lot more time.” She shifted on the couch, the cushion giving under her. “You know Caine’s legal troubles. I don’t know. I just feel like I don’t have room to judge.”
Nicole didn’t answer right away. She looked at Sara’s face, then at the glass in Sara’s hands. The quiet stretched long enough for the bass outside to thump once, then fade again.
Nicole reached over. Her hand landed on Sara’s knee, warm through the fabric, a steady weight.
“You get to choose who you let in your life because of who you are today,” Nicole said, “not because of what you allowed twenty years ago.”
Sara looked down at Nicole’s hand for a moment, then back at Nicole’s face. She let out a quiet breath.
“I suppose you’re right,” she said.
Nicole’s hand stayed where it was.
Sara tipped her head, the question already forming. “So,” she said, “why do you think Devin acts all weird?”
Nicole’s mouth twisted. She shrugged one shoulder. “Ex-wife?” she said.
Sara’s brows lifted.
“Kids?” Nicole added. She picked her glass up and finally drank. “I don’t know.”
Sara watched her, waiting for more.
Nicole lowered the glass and glanced at Sara over the rim. “I give men a much shorter leash than I do women,” she said. “So, I don’t experience that kind of shit.”
Sara laughed, short and sharp. “Well, excuse me.”
Nicole smiled, slow, then took another sip. “You’re excused.”
~~~
Mireya pushed out of the esthetician’s door with the receipt still warm in her hand. The bell over the glass gave one tired jingle behind her. Inside had been bright and clean and too quiet, air heavy with a sweet wax smell and a faint burnt edge. Outside was a strip mall parking lot with old oil stains and cracked lines. She walked toward her car with her keys already threaded through her fingers. The sidewalk in front of the shops was uneven where the concrete had buckled. A couple of carts sat corralled near the grocery entrance, one of them tipped. Farther out, a loud truck idled in a space it didn’t fit, bass low enough to make the air feel thick.
Her phone buzzed against her palm when she brought it up. She opened her messages and found Trell’s name. Her thumb moved quick, nails tapping the glass.
I just finished with my wax
She hit send and kept walking. Wind pushed at the ends of her hair. A thin strip of sun slid out from behind clouds and hit the hoods of cars in clean flashes, then dulled again.
She reached the edge of the row where her car sat and stopped just long enough to shift the receipt into her jacket pocket. Her phone buzzed again. She looked down and saw the new message.
Good, cause I’m gonna need that pussy bald next week.
Mireya rolled her eyes. Her mouth twitched anyway. She didn’t type words back. She sent a string of laughing emojis instead.
She waited a beat then her phone pinged with an Apple Pay notification. $250.
She held the phone up, arm extended and turned her head just enough to catch her own face in the front camera. She made her lips soft, blew a kiss at the screen, and snapped the selfie. She sent it to him.
When she lowered the phone, she saw Paz first, walking in the opposite direction with her shoulders squared and her bag tucked tight under her arm. Next to her was a girl Mireya didn’t recognize.
Mireya lifted her hand and waved, putting a little motion in it to make sure Paz caught it. Paz’s head turned. Recognition hit her face and she waved back.
Mireya crossed the row of parked cars, stepping around a puddle that held a thin sheen of rainbow oil. Her heels clicked on the concrete.
“Hey, what you doing over on this side of town?”
Paz gestured to her eyebrows. “Going get my brows threaded.”
She looked to the girl beside her and shifted her weight. “This is Roxie. Roxie, this is my… friend, Mireya.”
Mireya clocked the hesitation on friend. She didn’t let it show on her face. She lifted her hand again, smaller this time, and waved at Roxie.
Paz’s eyes went to Mireya’s hands, then to her jacket, then back to her face. “Where are you coming from?”
Mireya nodded over her shoulder, chin tipping back toward the esthetician’s door behind glass. “Same place. Waxing. I was supposed to come the week before last but I was in Georgia so my schedule’s thrown off.”
Roxie’s eyes widened. “Damn, girl. You got a waxing schedule? We need to talk because I’m trying to get like you!”
Paz narrowed her eyes, the look sharp, not playful even if her mouth tried to keep it light. “Yeah, Mireya is full of secrets.”
Mireya laughed off the accusation. She stepped close and placed her hand on Roxie’s arm. Her fingers rested there easy.
“Just go find one of those mom Facebook groups and steal the coupons when they post them. That’s what I do. Haven’t paid full price for a Brazilian yet.”
Roxie laughed and tapped her thumb and index finger together. “I know that cookie good.”
Before Mireya could answer, someone on the next row of cars over called Roxie’s name. Roxie turned her head toward the sound, smiled, and lifted a hand back.
She looked at Paz and Mireya both. She just excused herself with her body, stepping away and walking toward the voice.
Mireya waited until Roxie was out of earshot. She watched her weave between two parked cars and disappear into the gaps of moving people. Then Mireya turned back to Paz, her smile gone.
“You’re going to stop accusing me of shit, Paz.”
Paz didn’t flinch. She lifted her chin a little, eyes steady. “Are you feeling guilty?”
Mireya raised an eyebrow. The look was slow on purpose. “What would I have to be guilty about? You’re the one using the motherfucker you’re fucking to try to get dirt on people. Do you know what Tyree does to make money?”
Paz nodded once. “He’s told me.”
Mireya’s mouth pressed into a line for a second, then eased. She kept her voice even. “So that doesn’t bother you, but God forbid I have a little pocket change to treat myself.”
Paz rolled her eyes, the motion full of old frustration. “It’s because you’re lying. But sooner or later, it’s all going to come out.”
Mireya held her stare. The air between them felt tighter than the cold. Cars moved at the edge of the lot, tires hissing over wet pavement.
“You keep fucking with me and sooner rather than later, I’m going to knock you the fuck out.”
Paz snorted a laugh, quick and dry. “You don’t even know how much you’ve changed.”
Mireya shook her head once, small, dismissive, as if she was brushing lint off her own sleeve. “Maybe I’m still the same and it’s you that changed up on me.”
Paz rolled her eyes again and brushed by Mireya, shoulder grazing close. She headed in the direction of the shop.
Mireya watched her for a moment, long enough to see her slip past the storefront window and the reflection of herself caught in the glass. Then she turned and headed toward her car.
at least she learning how to be a better manipulator from Trell
