Page 23 of Crossed
I shake my head, taking a sip of tea. “I’m not trying to be annoying. I’m just…I love you and I want to make sure you’re happy.”
She scrunches up her face. “Please. We’ve got the perfect setup. Are you kidding? Quin’s my dude.”
“I know, but— ”
“But nothing, girl. Things are good.I’mgood, okay?”
“Okay.” I nod but we both know I’ll probably ask again. I can’t help it. The last thing I’d want is for her to realize that what she’s got going on here isn’t enough and pack up to leave us and find a new purpose.
I shake the thought from my head.
“I have to tell you something,” Dalia sighs, her mug clunking on the wood as she chews on her bottom lip. “It’s about Candace.”
“Oh god, what is it?” I groan.
Candace is Dalia’s cousin, and even her name irritates the hell out of me. She’s been around since the beginning of my and Dalia’s friendship, especially considering she lives here in Festivalé and, until recently, Dalia lived in Coddington Heights. They’ve never been close, but every once in a while, they chill, and I don’t like her around here. Candace is a raging addict, and I don’t want to put myself or Quinten in her path any more than necessary. Plus, Candace is a nasty thing, taking every opportunity to dig her words into my sides, making sure they leave a scratch.
I know people aren’t themselves while they’re in the clutches of addiction, and hating her probably makes me a shitty person, but I can’t help it.
I take another sip of tea.
“She’s dead.”
My chest burns, hot liquid spewing from my mouth as I spit my drink across the room. “What?”
Dalia’s eyes are solemn, her lips pursing while she nods slowly, clearly trying to keep her emotions at bay, and empathy hits me square in the chest. Sure, I didn’t like the woman, but death is so…final.
“Jesus, Dal.”
She shrugs, but I see the way her jaw stiffens like the sharp edge of a knife. “We all knew it was coming eventually. I just always figured it would be the dope that took her, not aperson.”
My head tilts. “What do you mean, ‘a person’?”
Dalia shakes her head, wiping the back of her hand over her mouth. “She was murdered. Strangled to death. Her slimeball landlord found her when he stopped by to demand her rent for the month.”
My stomach twists. “Holy shit.”
I’ve never been good when people show me emotion, and saying I’m sorry doesn’t feel like it would be enough, but I’m not sure how to show support when I don’t feel sad over the loss. “Do they— do you know if there are any leads?”Is that an appropriate thing to ask?
She scoffs. “Probably that old bastard landlord. Or maybe his wife. Everybody knows how Candace was paying rent when she had no money to give.”
“Is there an investigation?” I ask.
“Maybe.” She shrugs again. “Even if there is, how much effort do you think they’ll put into a dead sex worker with a drug problem who was constantly asking the worst of the worst to come into her home? They’re probably happy she’s gone.”
I nod slowly, but my body is coiling tight. Candace’s apartment is only a few blocks away from ours.
“So it could have been anyone,” I say, glancing down the hall to where Quinten’s playing in his room.
My eyes meet Dalia’s, my earlier calm ebbing away like the moon when it drags out the tide.
She winces when our gazes clash, her tongue swiping out across her lip. “Candace was into a lot of bad shit with a lot of terrible people, Amaya. I doubt it was random.”
“You’re probably right,” I reply, standing up and moving across the table to her. I lean down and wrap her into a hug. “I’m really sorry about your cousin, Dal.”
I feel her head move against my shoulder, the sound of her shaky breaths in my ear. “Yeah…me too.”
Releasing her, I walk down the hall until I’m peeking into Quinten’s open door, watching as he kneels at the foot of his bed, inspecting his figurines before placing them in perfect rows. “Quin?” I call out. “I’ll be back later, okay? Be good for Dalia.” He doesn’t acknowledge me, but I know he heard.
