Page 6 of Chula
She looks up at me and snarls. Fuck I like this girl already.
“Answer me,” I demand this time.
“Let me out of this,” she says, nodding toward the shower. I reach in and shut the cold water off, and she drags her ass off the floor. I toss her a towel, but not anything else, as she steps out. She wraps the towel around her shivering body and looks up at me.
“Don’t you have heat?”
“No. Now tell me what the fuck you’re talking about.”
“Why the hell should I?”
“Because if you don’t, I’m going to let Tony beat your fucking ass for putting your hands on him,” I tell her. I’m dead serious, too. Tony will fuck her up, and that’ll be her own fault.
“Fine. Tell Tony to bring it,” she challenges. Now I move. I move so quickly she doesn’t see me coming or when I pull my knife. I press it to her neck a little too hard and see the blood as it begins to flow. Her eyes lock with mine as her chest heaves.
“Why do you make shit so hard, Chula? This is my area, my turf. If there’s some motherfucker running around pulling guns, it’s supposed to be me.”
“And you think I should help you?”
“You live here now. Yeah, you should.” She rolls her eyes as I step back and move the knife away from her cold, trembling body.
“They had masks on. I didn’t see shit else. There were two of them, one at the counter and one who came at me because my little brother was crying.”
“And?”
“And Davey has PTSD. He freaked out when he saw the gun and lost it. I stepped in between them.”
“In between your brother and the gun?” She nods her head. “And here I thought you weren’t stupid.”
“I’m not stupid, you fucker! That’s my brother! My only brother, and he’s non-verbal. He can’t stand up for himself, so I do,” she yells before shoving at me. I let her this time, but there won’t be a next.
“I had a brother like that,” I tell her, although I don’t know why I’m admitting that shit to her. Maybe to calm her ass down a little more?
“Had?”
“He died.”
“Shit. I’m sorry,” she says as her teeth chatter from the cold. I wasn’t playing when I said we don’t have heat in here.
“Don’t be. He’s better off where he is now.” She shrugs her shoulders before heading for the door. I follow behind her when my mom’s voice filters through my head, telling me not to let her leave the house dripping wet. Fuck! Why does her voice have to come into play now? And why do I even fucking care what the voice has to say? After what she did, I wished I hadn’t heard her voice at all.
I reach for her and pull her back, but she spins quickly, ready to fight.
“Calm the fuck down. What’s with you?”
“I don’t like being grabbed.”
“Follow me,” I tell her. She’s hesitant at first, but eventually follows me. I walk back into my bedroom and open the closet, pulling out some sweats and a shirt. I toss them to her and nod toward the bathroom.
“I’m only going across the street,” she declares.
“I know, and it’s cold out tonight.”
“Are you being nice?” she asks, sounding shocked at the idea.
“You can thank my mother,” I tell her.
“Where is she?”
