by Gina LaManna
After summiting the staircase, Anne deposited the first laundry basket inside Penny’s apartment. When she straightened, she studied the studio space and hoped her face reflected a pleasant expression. In reality, Anne was surprised. She hadn’t expected to find a luxurious condo tucked inside the unsavory building, but she also hadn’t expected…this.
The apartment was the size of a shoebox. And not a nice shoebox belonging to a fine pair of high heels but a teensy little thing from the corner discount rack, dusty and crumpled and missing one flip-flop. The kitchen was cordoned off by a small counter. One person could fit inside it at a time—cooking dinner as a couple would be impossible. The living room blurred into the bedroom without any real separation. If it could be called a bedroom.
Penny’s bed consisted of a mattress and box spring set on the floor. Her dresser was a scratched-up mess that suddenly made Anne’s refurbished, makeshift vanity look as if it’d been salvaged from a royal palace. Her closet door was the accordion type that folded in on both sides, except one side was completely missing, and the other looked permanently jimmied open.
A pleasant breeze sailed in through the window, but upon closer inspection, Anne realized it wasn’t by choice. The window was propped up with a sturdy wooden ruler, and the screen had a huge rip down the center.
“It’s not much,” Penny said sheepishly. “But it’s the best I can do.”
Anne caught herself staring. It had been so long since she’d been a broke student that she’d forgotten what it was like to pull herself up by the bootstraps and make ends meet.
“When I was first pregnant, I was terrified,” Anne reassured Penny. “I was afraid I didn’t have enough—enough finances, enough stability, enough stuff. I told Mark, and he told me the stupidest thing, but I thought it was adorable at the time. And it was actually quite helpful.”
“What’s that?”
“People have been raising babies since the days of cavemen. And all they had was a rock for a bed and a stick,” Anne said with a thin smile. “They’d look at this place and find it luxurious. You’re doing fine, Penny. The baby doesn’t care what your apartment looks like. He just wants to be loved.”
“I have love,” Penny said softly. “I really do. It’s starting to become real.”
“Becoming a mother is an experience you can’t quite put into words,” Anne said. “You’ll find out soon enough. It gets better, I promise.”
Penny wrung her hands together. “I hope so. At the moment, it’s more overwhelming than exciting. I’m realizing how expensive babies can be. I can’t thank you enough for giving us your extra stuff.”
“It’s been my pleasure,” Anne said. “And such perfect timing that it must be fate. The twins are just growing out of their baby things, and I would be donating them anyway. I’d rather know they’re going to a good family.”
“A family,” Penny echoed. “Right.”
Anne felt her lips press together. “Your family will be whole, just the way it is. But out of sheer nosiness, have you heard from the father?”
Penny’s shoulders straightened. “He doesn’t want to be involved with the baby.”
“I’m sorry. He should still—”
“I don’t want anything from him,” Penny said sharply. “It’s much better this way. Trust me. Oh, look at this adorable onesie.”
Anne could read the unspoken words behind Penny’s change of subject. Penny was done discussing the father. Muttering an excuse, Anne dipped out to her car to retrieve another load.
“Here you go.” Anne perched the second laundry basket on the end of Penny’s ramshackle couch. “I do have two car seats in perfectly good condition, too, if you’d like. They’ve never been in an accident. I know most people prefer to buy new, but…”
“I’d love to buy one from you.”
“It’s yours, and I’m not taking any money for it,” Anne said. “Now, before I leave, let me show you how to set up this baby monitor. We’re not using it anymore, so it’s yours. One of those newfangled ones that streams straight to your phone. I’ll show you… I think I still have the app on my phone.”
Penny took a deep breath. “Thank you, Anne.”
Anne ducked her head and began unloading the laundry bins. What she didn’t tell Penny was that the feeling was mutual. Where Penny’s needs in this season of life were physical, financial needs, Anne’s were emotional. She needed a distraction from everything at home, and Penny was just that.
Anne had guided Penny through her journey into motherhood with a gentle hand. She’d helped secure everything from prenatal vitamins to a closet filled with maternity clothes. In a world where Anne had lost control of everything—her home life, her husband, her marriage, her finances—she wanted to excel at something. To be good at one wholesome thing. When Penny looked up at her with appreciation, it fed something in Anne that had been deprived of sustenance.
The two women worked together for several hours, rearranging furniture, setting up sleeping spaces and makeshift changing tables, hanging tiny clothes on tinier hangers in a tiny closet with big, broken doors. By the time they finished, the place had been transformed.
“Come with me,” Anne said. “Is there a grocery store near here?”
“There’s a Trader Joe’s down the street,” Penny said. “But I was planning to order a pizza if that sounds okay.”
“I have a better idea.” Anne slipped on her shoes and pulled open the door. “Let’s go for a walk. It’s nice outside.”
Penny’s lips twitched into a curious smile, but Anne didn’t offer any further explanation. Before Anne knew what was happening, Penny playfully looped her arm through Anne’s and guided her outside. They strolled to the shop on the corner, and when they returned an hour later, their arms were laden with goodies.
“I wish you’d let me pay for this,” Penny said, eyeing the bags as she unlocked her door. “This is ridiculous. It’s too much.”
“This is all part of the Anne Wilkes makeover package,” Anne teased, following Penny into the apartment. “Give me five minutes, and you’ll see why this step is crucial.”
Penny sealed her lips into a thin line, though the discomfort didn’t entirely disappear from her eyes. Anne set to work pulling materials out of the paper bag. She unearthed several small tropical houseplants. A bouquet of fresh flowers. An array of pleasantly scented candles.
She carefully arranged each around the room, nudging them this way, then that way, on the newly dusted furniture. When Anne completed the finishing touches, she and Penny stepped back to survey the transformed studio.
Penny’s hand came up to her throat. She toyed with a necklace there, fumbling with the charm on it as Anne watched her, pleased with the reaction. The space wasn’t exactly gorgeous, but for Penny, it was perfect.
The bright-yellow bedspread shone under the afternoon sunlight. The mopped floor and dusted wood gleamed, their sheen bright and crisp, a faint lemon scent covering the hint of secondhand smoke in the air.
Baby paraphernalia had been placed thoughtfully around the room, bringing in a lightness, an airiness that highlighted hopeful signs of new life. The flowers and plants added pops of greenery—along with bursts of deep purples and bright pinks and splashes of orange—and the pretty, flickering candles smelled of pecan pie.
Penny swallowed hard. She cleared her throat, but the words didn’t come. Anne put a hand on Penny’s shoulder and squeezed.
“I really wish I had vases,” Penny said finally.
Anne glanced at the makeshift Coke bottle they’d used to contain a fresh flower bouquet. “I think it’s vintage.”
Both women looked at one another and burst into laughter. They laughed, and they laughed. They laughed until they found themselves teetering onto the ragged old couch and clutching at their stomachs. Then they laughed some more.
When they gathered themselves, Penny popped a frozen pizza they’d picked up into the oven, and the apartment burst into hominess with the scent
of cheap marinara and gooey mozzarella.
“Paper plate?” Anne asked. “Pizza cutter?”
Penny pointed to a cupboard for the plates, then unearthed a knife and gave a wry smile. “Pizza cutter.”
Anne grinned and grabbed plates along with some sodas they’d also grabbed on their walk. They carried their plates to the middle of the apartment and plopped back onto the couch, crossing their legs and gossiping as they munched through soft dough and greasy pepperoni.
Hours later, Anne stood at the door. She felt a genuine burst of regret that she had to leave, and to stall, she cast a glance around the room as if there were one surface she’d missed in her polishing, one table she’d forgotten to dust.
When it all came back squeaky clean, Anne sighed. Her cheeks hurt from smiling, and her abs were sore from laughing. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had such a wonderful day.
“I had a really nice time.” The simplicity of Anne’s words felt empty against the bloom of emotion in her chest. “Thanks for adopting my babies’ stuff.”
“I appreciate it more than you know.”
Both women studied each other. An understanding floated between them, and Anne was grateful she didn’t have to rely on the flimsiness of the English language to express her true sentiment. Gratitude, hope, friendship. Such little words for such big feelings.
Anne reached out a hand and gently rested it on the light bulge of Penny’s stomach. “Thank you, little guy.”
Before Penny could respond, Anne’s phone burst to life with her ringtone.
“It’s probably Mark,” Anne mumbled. “I’m sure he’s trying to figure out what to feed the kids or something. I told him I’d be gone all day, but…you know…” Anne’s face turned red as she realized that maybe Penny didn’t know all about husbands. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t—”
“It’s fine,” Penny said. “You don’t have to watch what you say around me.”
Anne didn’t hear Penny’s response, however, because she was too busy staring at a name on her phone. A name that sent fear arcing through her stomach. A name she’d hoped to never see again.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered to Penny. “I have to get going.”
“Is everything okay?”
Anne waved a hand and forced a smile over her shoulder as she launched herself down the stairs two at a time. “I’ll be fine.”
“Wait—your laundry baskets!”
Anne had already reached the landing. “I’ll grab them later.”
“Wait a second, Anne!”
Something about Penny’s tone stopped Anne in her tracks. She turned and looked back, expecting to find a fresh, youthful smile. To see eyes that were bright and shining, focused on the joy that so often accompanied new motherhood.
Instead, Anne found a stare from eyes that burned cold and hard. A smile tinged with grit and determination. Anne’s breath caught in her throat as she wondered if behind the lip gloss and easy topknot, Penny was not the innocent girl she’d suspected but a woman not to be underestimated.
“If you need anything,” Penny said, her voice slicing the air like a knife, “anything at all, don’t hesitate to call.”
“I won’t.”
“Anne,” she repeated firmly. “Anything.”
Anne nodded, then ducked out the front door. As she made her way to the waiting van, a message blinking on her phone, she wondered how she could have pegged Penny so incorrectly. Despite their giddy day spent together, Anne wondered how much she didn’t know about her newest friend.
But even curious thoughts about the peculiar Penny Sands were pushed to the back of Anne’s mind as she redialed the number without listening to the message. Her hand shook as she held the phone to her ear.
“What do you want?” she rasped into the phone. “I thought we were done.”
“Oh, Anne,” Roman said quietly. “You’ve got one month.”
TRANSCRIPT
Defense: Detective Wilkes, how long have you been a cop?
Mark Wilkes: Almost twenty-one years with the LAPD.
Defense: Thank you for your service.
Mark Wilkes: It’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do. It’s a pleasure to serve our city.
Defense: Before you became a detective, what did you do for the LAPD?
Mark Wilkes: I worked in the GND.
Defense: The Gang and Narcotics Division?
Mark Wilkes: That’s correct. I was there a decade. Started as a beat cop before that. Worked my way up.
Defense: Would you say you’ve dealt with your fair share of bad men?
Mark Wilkes: That’s part of the job description. Yeah, I’d say I’ve seen a few bad guys.
Defense: Do the bad guys always get justice?
Mark Wilkes: That’s our goal. Of course, sometimes, they get away.
Defense: What if you know someone is guilty of a crime but you can’t prove it?
Mark Wilkes: We both know that occasionally happens. As a lawyer, I’m sure you’ve experienced it, too. My answer? Innocent until proven guilty.
Defense: How do you feel about vigilante justice?
Mark Wilkes: Er, I’m not sure what you mean. I am a law enforcement officer. I believe in the system. I believe in justice through the system.
Defense: What if things get personal?
Mark Wilkes: I would go to the police and follow standard procedure like anyone else.
Defense: Play along with me, Detective. Let’s say you discovered that your wife was being black mailed. Earlier this afternoon, you stated that you love your wife, yes?
Mark Wilkes: Of course I do.
Defense: You’d do anything for her?
Mark Wilkes: I suppose. Yes.
Defense: Would you kill for her?
Mark Wilkes: I see where you’re going with this, and no, I’m not your man. I didn’t kill anyone.
Defense: Have you ever killed someone while on duty?
Mark Wilkes: I have. I’m sure you know that as it’s public record.
Defense: The truth is, Detective, that you’ve killed a man before. How do we know it didn’t happen again?
Mark Wilkes: For starters, there’s no proof. Secondly, I had no motive.
Defense: Did your wife tell you she was being blackmailed by Roman Tate?
Mark Wilkes: No, she did not.
Defense: Did your wife tell you she killed Roman Tate?
Mark Wilkes: What?
Defense: I’ll rephrase. If your wife came to you and said she’d killed a man—a man who, by all accounts, was disliked by several individuals— what would you do? Would you turn your wife in and risk your children losing their mother, or would you help her bury the body?
Mark Wilkes: The body wasn’t buried.
Defense: No, it wasn’t. But interesting of you to know that detail. That’s all for now, Your Honor.
TWENTY-SEVEN
One Month Before
January 2019
Happy birthday, dear Anne. Happy birthday to you.”
Eliza and Penny finished their off-key jingle with a round of applause. Anne slouched in her seat, hating the attention. She preferred her birthdays to be without fanfare these days, seeing as the only thing she was celebrating was an influx of wrinkles and a few more gray hairs.
But Eliza Tate didn’t believe in letting birthdays slip by without a massive celebration, which was how Anne had ended up at this particularly expensive restaurant getting sung to by a staff of well-dressed wannabe actors. This restaurant even had a crumber—a man whose sole job was to wipe crumbs off the table. It was ironic, seeing as Anne didn’t need a crumber at an elegant restaurant where she could eat her own meal in peace; she needed a crumber at home where four children liked to feed the floor with their macaroni and cheese.
“You have to let me pay,” Anne said. “Or at least split the bill.”
“It’s on us,” Penny chirped gleefully. “Eliza and I will split it.”
The bill arrived, and Eliza lo
oked at Penny with a crooked eyebrow. “It’s on me. You have more important things to spend your money on.”
“But—” Penny gave a feeble argument, but after one look at Eliza’s credit card, she nodded. “Thank you.”
“Shall we?” Eliza pushed back her chair and stood. “I’ll have the valet pull the car around.”
Anne watched her two friends as they shuffled about, gathering their things from the beautifully ornate chairs. They made their way out of the modern, sleek restaurant where the grill boasted an open fire behind the counter and promised the freshest of food. Anne watched Eliza hand her valet ticket over to the man waiting at the door. There was no parking lot at a place like this.
Anne reached into a bowl of colorful mints while they waited and snatched a few from the glass container. Penny caught her eye, gave a sly smile, and did the same. They turned away, stifling their giggles like sneaky children.
“I’ll be right back,” Penny said, tucking her assortment of mints into her coat pocket. “I left something at the table.”
Anne nodded, too busy shoving her own mints into her purse to care. It would be embarrassing to be kicked out of a restaurant on her birthday because of some pilfered candies.
“Car’s here,” Eliza announced. “Hop in.”
A light drizzle had descended over the city, giving the night a hazy, surreal sort of glow. Rain was uncommon enough in Los Angeles to still be considered a novelty. Anne vaguely remembered her days growing up on the East Coast where she’d found rain to be an utter pain in the ass. Precipitation wasn’t all that special when it rained more than it shined.
But today, the rain felt romantic. For the first time in ages, Anne wasn’t thinking about her husband. Or her kids. Or her finances. Or fucking Roman Tate.
Anne was thinking about the two faces grinning back at her as they all piled into Eliza’s convertible. Eliza had put the top up beforehand, which didn’t surprise Anne in the slightest. Eliza had probably checked the weather three days in advance and marked dainty little raindrops into her color-coded calendar.
