Page 3 of Mine to Hold
“Sure.” She grabbed a change of clothes and padded to the small bathroom that looked as though it had never been cleaned. She turned the water on as hot as it would go and stripped.
Standing under the lukewarm water, she let the tears flow. She and Tony had such big plans. They were going to prove their foster parents wrong. That Tony wasn’t a bad kid. He wasn’t going to wind up a loser. He was going to clean up. He promised to quit smoking pot. He was going to go to college. Get a job.
And so was she.
They were going to have a sweet life together.
But one month out of foster care, Tony was running drugs.
He said it was temporary, just to get them some quick cash so they could follow their dreams. He wasn’t making enough at the auto repair shop and her job as a waitress wasn’t bringing in much either.
Once again, she believed him because she thought she loved him.
But this wasn’t love.
And nothing had changed.
He was the same idiot she’d met two years ago when he landed in foster care. His sob story about his life, though real, was the crutch he used to stay the same.
Quickly, she dried off with the stained towel that smelled like mildew. Her clothes came from the Goodwill store down thestreet. She hiked her oversized jeans up and pulled her shirt over her head.
When she stepped out of the bathroom, Tony was sound asleep on the sofa.
Thank God.
It was now or never.
Quietly, she snagged the bag of cash, her purse with her phone in it, and slipped out the door. As soon as she got to the corner, she got out her cell and called 9-1-1.
“What is your emergency?”
“I know someone who has a big bag of cocaine in his apartment. The address is 80 E 113 Street in the Watts neighborhood. I believe he’s armed.”
“What’s your name, ma’am. Are you there? And are you safe?”
“I’m not there, and yes. I’m safe. But hurry. Please. I think he might have had something to do with the murder of that man earlier today in Hollywood.” Rumor ended the call. She turned off her cell, dropped it to the pavement, and crushed it with her cowboy boots. Bending over, she lifted the busted electronic equipment and tossed it in the trash.
Hoisting the heavy bag of cash over her shoulder, she walked as quickly as she could—without drawing attention to herself—toward the bus stop. She ducked into a convenience store for a soda and some change. She didn’t want any paper trail.
She had no idea where she’d go. Alaska? Montana? Maybe Utah? Some place where it snowed. She hated cold weather and Tony would never look for her in one of those places.
She would leave California, and she’d never come back. Ever.
Sitting on the park bench, two police cars rolled by.
She clutched the bag.
The cops kept going.
Hopefully, to go arrest Tony.
The bus came a few minutes later. She climbed aboard, dropping her coins, and asked the driver for a transfer. It would take a good hour and a half to two hours to get to the Greyhound station. The only decision then would be what ticket she would buy.
She didn’t care.
First one out of town that got her the farthest distance.
Time to really start her life over.
