Page 69 of Kneeling to Candy

“Handwritten note? What are you? A preteen?”

“A text, then,” I say in exasperation.

“He’ll say the words when he’s good and ready or when you show the same interest back.”

“I slept with him—twice. How much more interest can I show?”

“Geez,” Ebony scoffs. “Awfully hypocritical of you to demand words from him while not practicing what you preach.”

Damn, she’s right. “Ouch.”

“You get my honest opinions, chica. Take it or leave it. Back to the point. If the roles were reversed and Butch was the one facing a person who hurt him, how would you be reacting?”

“I—I,” stuttering, I bite my lip to stop my tremble. “I’d be irate.”

Ebony waves her hand at me. “Exactly.”

Shit. Butch’s response was out of line, but so was I with how I went about things.

“I should have talked with Butch about my intentions with the case before saying anything to the rest of the crew.”

Ebony shrugs. “He would have fought you still. However, I think his reaction would have been better. You blindsided him in there, volunteering like you did.”

I run my hands down my face, frustrated with myself. “How do I apologize without backing out of the case?”

“Are you for sure working the case?”

“Atlas seemed to contemplate my offer before I left his office. No idea what Butch has said to him since I left. But I’m sure he tried to talk Atlas out of it.”

“As any old man would,” Ebony informs me, with a pointed look.

We’re interrupted by frantic knocking on Ebony’s door. “Hellooo? EB?” someone calls out in a distinctly feminine twang.

“In here, Red,” Ebony hollers from the bathroom.

“Is Candy with you?”

Intrigued, I exit the bathroom.

“Yeah,” I say, with a raised eyebrow. “What’s up?”

Red sighs in relief. “Oh, thank God! You need to come quick.”

Ebony and I exchange a quizzical look. But Red looks panicked, wringing her hands.

“Red, what’s going on?”

“It’s Butch.”

The way she says his name with such concern has alarm bells going off in my head. I grab Red by the shoulders, needing her full attention. “Did something happen? Is he okay?”

“Um, physically? Yeah.” Red pulls on a lock of her hair—a nervous habit of hers. “But maybe not for long.”

I shake my head, trying to make sense of nonsense. “Not for long? What does that mean?”

Red clears the air from her lungs, like she’s bracing herself for something unpleasant. She tugs on my hand, leading me to the door.

“You should see for yourself.”

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