Page 92 of Tequila Tuesdays

I wondered briefly if Shanda was going to lie again. I’d have to kick her ass, then talk some sense into her if she did.

But Shanda straightened. “I came home to check on Bertie and see her for Christmas. My mom lets this ass wipe watch her when she goes to work. He was mad at me for getting his drug dealer in trouble, so he hit me in the face, punched me in the stomach. Then he slapped me.”

“You bitch! This isn’t even your house. You don’t belong here!” Mikey yelled, spittle flying out of his mouth.

The other officer turned to Mikey. “Sir, let’s go outside so I can get your side of the story, okay?”

Mikey puffed up his chest and swayed a little bit. “This ismyfucking house. I’m not going anywhere.”

The female officer stepped forward. “I’ll take Shanda outside. We can take Bertie with us.”

I walked over to the kitchen sink. There were dirty dishes everywhere, and the countertop was crusted with dried food and gunk. I grabbed a wad of paper towels and wet them down.

Shanda scooped Bertie up. She laid her head on Shanda’s shoulder and wrapped her arms around Shanda’s neck. A lump formed in my throat. We walked outside and went over to the picnic table by the swing set in the middle of the complex.

Two EMT’s walked up, and Officer Schroeder filled them in. Bertie was still wrapped around Shanda and didn’t look like she wanted to let go.

I turned to Officer Schroeder. “I have some food and a blanket in my car. Don’t start questioning Shanda until I get back.”

The officer stared at me. “I’ve never met an attorney who makes house calls.”

“I’m not in the habit. But this one’s different.”

I ran to my vehicle and grabbed a blanket and cooler with the lunch I’d packed. When I got back, Officer Schroeder had taken photos of the cut and marks on Shanda’s face, and the bruise on her stomach.

Shanda adamantly refused to let the EMTs work on her. “It’s not an emergency, and I can’t afford it. I don’t think it’s too bad.”

They couldn’t force her to accept treatment, so after a few minutes they packed up and took off. I understood, but it made me angry that an eighteen-year-old had to forgo medical treatment because she thought it was too expensive. Running back to my vehicle, I grabbed my first aid kit.

I handed her all the bandages and antibiotic ointment I had and dabbed at her cut.

“Keep the edges of your cut together if you can. The butterfly bandages work the best. If you’re careful, it may not scar.”

Damien walked up while Shanda and Officer Schroeder were talking, and I was feeding Bertie.

He put his hand on my shoulder and nodded at the officer. “Schroeder, it’s good to see you. I’m glad you’re on this call.”

Officer Schroeder smiled. “Hey, Andreasen. Good to see you too. I didn’t know she was yours.” She inclined her head to me.

Damien squeezed my shoulder. “We’re getting there. I’m still easing her into it.”

“You know she’s a criminal defense attorney, right?” Schroeder asked.

Damien grinned. “Someone’s gotta work for the dark side.” He looked down at Bertie in my lap. “Who’s this?”

I bounced her lightly on my knee. “This is Bertie. She’s Shanda’s little sister.”

Bertie reached up to give Damien a handful of soggy, smashed bread. Damien leaned over and pretended to eat it. Bertie giggled and pulled her hand back.

Then Damien looked over at Shanda and stood up straight. “What the fuck happened to your face?”

I slipped my hand into his and squeezed. “Mikey hit her when she came to check on Bertie and give her a Christmas present. And you can’t say the f-word in front of Bertie.”

Damien scrubbed his hand over his face. “He’s high, isn’t he?”

“He’s always high.” Shanda sounded defeated.

After Officer Schroeder finished talking with Shanda, she went to find her partner. The DCFS worker arrived a couple of minutes later.

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