Page 28 of Road Queens
Cass gave her kickstand a boot, then came up behind Amanda, who’d just dismounted, and hugged her hard enough to pull her off her feet. “Stop it!” Amanda cried, because her worst fear was Cass finding out how hilarious she found the manhandling. Being friends with a gorgeous tactile giant was great good fun. “I’m not a maraca!”
Cass chuckled and plopped Amanda back on her feet, her heels hitting the sidewalk with a double thump. “Last time, you said you weren’t a dog chew toy.”
“And that stands as well!” Being tossed around by Cass wasn’t just fun, and it wasn’t just distracting; it made Amanda feel safe. Which was silly; shewassafe. She was the rescuer, not the one who needed rescuing. And she suspected the reason their friendship had only gotten stronger since the day Jeff Manners made Sidney bleed was because they weren’t just friends. Corny as it sounded, they were a sisterhood. And that relationship penetrated every facet of their lives, in all the best ways. Whether they were enduring a messy breakup, or giving Cassandra shelter after her mom went to prison, or trying not to be nervous about Starfishing, they were never, ever alone.
Such things, Amanda suspected, were a bit beyond Sidney. Or she didn’t need to ponder the way Amanda did.
“Ha! Next time, Cass, just hold Amanda by the ankles and shake until her pockets are empty. I get the cash and you can keep the ring.”
“The ring stays on my finger, and all my cash goes into my Hole, Sidney; you know that.”
“I did know that,” she admitted, and fidgeted, which was unusual. Sidney was the one who would usually grab Amanda’s hands and demand she cease all unnecessary movement (“Argh, sit still, you’re vibrating the whole seat, just watch the movie!”).
“Right. You knew that. Okay.” Amanda almost started fidgeting herself, then shook it off. She didn’t have to ask. She knew Cass and Sid were thinking about all the things that could go wrong. But they who hesitate are lost, or whatever. “Now come on, both of you.”
They were in front of the Schoolhouse Square town house block in Hastings, Minnesota, a small city on the Mississippi just across the river from Prescott. The new condos were all uniformly neat, with brick exteriors, white trim, and small porches big enough for two chairs or a medium-size grill.
Their client, Jen Johnson, came out hand in hand with a child who resembled her so closely that Amanda assumed she was a clone. What a time to be alive! “Hi, hi! We’re almost ready.”
Amanda knew that etiquette demanded a self-effacing reply (“No rush, take your time”), which, in this case, was a lie. Their first OpStar still haunted her: blood, fists, taunts, blustering, blood.
“We’ll help you finish,” Sidney said. As usual, she had driven her minivan, while Amanda and Cassandra rode their bikes.
“There’s only two bags, and Emily has hers all ready. My new neighbor helped me pack everything up.”
“Good.” Sidney set the parking brake and jumped out.
“I guess his sister went through something like this?” Jen was continuing. “He left last night to go see her. He offered to move me himself when he gets back.”
“That’s fine. Looks like you won’t need him. Since you’re all set, we should get moving.” Sid was already coming up the stairs to follow Jen back inside.
“He’ll be surprised when he gets back, and I’m not here. But I didn’t think my husband would do anything this—” Jen cut herself off, and Amanda realized the woman’s nostrils were an angry pink, like she’d scrubbed her face too hard for too long.Nosebleed. He got pissy about something and popped her in the face and then rushed off to work. Won’thebe surprised when he gets back tonight?Amanda had to make a real effort to keep the smirk off her face.
“C’mon, bags, bags!” Sidney was like a demented bellhop. “We should be out of here in not quite sixty seconds. Right? Right.”
“Got it, we hear; tick-tock, Clarice.” Cass bounded up the porch steps, greeted the child with an exuberant “Hello!” and then bent and scooped the child into her arms. She had her mother’s blue eyes, glossy dark-brown hair, and epicanthal folds. “Ready to stay in the big blue house across the river?”
Emily slung an arm around Cassandra’s neck like they were pals of old. “Blue’s my favorite color.”
“Mine too! Only not really, it’s purple.”
“Purple’s nice,” the child allowed. And then in one of those abrupt segues peculiar to children: “We have to go because Daddy broke his promise.”
“That’s okay. Your mom keptherword. And maybe your dad will come around.”
“He loves us and will get help,” she parroted. Through some alchemy Amanda never understood, every child in the world took to Cassandra without hesitation. And proximity to Cass increasedtheir natural curiosity. Case in point: Emily reaching out and tracing Cassandra’s scar with a small, chubby finger. “What happened to your face?”
“Emily May,” Jen Johnson hissed, coming back out to the porch with Sidney. “Don’t be rude.”
“It’s fine,” Cassandra replied easily. “This?” She traced her scar up through the hairline and tapped her forehead for peculiar emphasis. “This is what happens when you’re fishing and not paying attention.”
Amanda nearly dropped the box of Emily’s toys.That’s ... an explanation, I guess. The way in which “There was a war and a bratty belle got married a lot and in the end promised to never give up and probably didn’t but who knows?” sums upGone with the Wind.
Emily jerked her finger away. “Does it hurt?”
“Not anymore. How about this?” Cass stuffed the child’s fist into her mouth. “Dzzz izz hrrrt?”
“No, ick!” Emily giggled and freed herself from Cassandra’s maw. “Mom says it’s time to go, and we’re gonna sleep in the big blue house and then go stay with Grandma.”
