by Tess Sharpe
I believe in this, she had told me, sitting in the Ruby’s lobby. I believe in them.
Without Mo, the Ruby wouldn’t have survived after Momma died. The motel got handed over to Uncle Jake until I was old enough to inherit it, and Mo convinced him to keep it running instead of selling it or turning it back into a regular motel. Jake did his best, provided the muscle, but Mo nurtured the heart of the place. The Ruby would be a shit-show without her.
The Rubies are part of the McKenna family, and if anyone messes with them or their children, that man has to answer to me and Mo, then to Duke. Not that I could guarantee there’d be much left to hand over to him.
The Ruby is mine and Mo’s now. We’re partners. The day after I inherited it, I had the paperwork drawn up so Mo owned fifty percent of the land and buildings and would get all of it if anything ever happened to me.
I’ll never be as good as Momma, who women all over the county still talk about in hushed, reverent tones, and I’ll never be as smart as Mo, but I do the best I can. My name keeps everyone safe. I make sure the tweekers stay clean and the kids are getting everything they need.
As I pull up, kids are splashing in the pool I had put in a few years ago. I park the truck and open the door, letting Busy hop out and follow me up the walk.
“Puppy!” A little girl toddles up to Busy and me at full speed, her mom following close behind.
“Sit, Busy,” I say quietly. Busy obeys, tail wagging, and licks Jackie’s face when she throws her arms around her neck. “How you doing, Sam?” I ask her mom.
“We’re good, Harley,” Sam says. Her arm’s still in the sling, and I can see her kids’ signatures all over the cast. “The boys love the pool.”
“Glad you’re settling in.” Out of the corner of my eye, I can see someone peek out the door of one of the cottages and close it fast. I frown. That’s Jessa’s cabin.
“You seen Jessa around?” I ask Sam.
“The woman in number eight?”
I nod.
“No, not for a few days. I think she works nights, though.”
“Yeah, she does. I should check in on her. You let me know if you need anything, okay? Mo has my number posted in the office.”
I’m about to turn away when she grabs my hand.
“Thank you, Harley,” she says. “What you did—”
“It’s fine,” I interrupt her. “I just do what I can.”
“You made him stay away, and that—” Sam’s eyes fill, but she doesn’t let the tears fall. She picks up Jackie, cradling her close. Jackie squawks in protest, struggling to get back down on the ground with Busy. “He’s never stayed away before,” Sam says.
“He’ll stay away this time,” I promise. If he doesn’t, I’ll set his truck on fire. Maybe with him in it. I told him that much when he’d tried to muscle in my way as I took Sam and the kids out of the house last month. “You don’t have to worry anymore.”
There’s movement at the window of Jessa’s cottage, and after I say goodbye to Sam, I head across the driveway and knock on the door of number eight.
I wait a long time before it opens. Jayden, Jessa’s nine-year-old, stares up at me. Her hair is in crooked braids, and her pink shirt’s on inside out.
“Hi, Harley,” she says.
“Hi, Jayden,” I peer inside the cottage. “Where’s your mom?”
Jayden shrugs and opens the door wider to let Busy and me in. I snap my fingers and point. Busy plants herself in the open doorway, keeping watch.
I look around the room. It’s clean, but when I flip open the fridge, there’s a bunch of labeled tupperware. I recognize the handwriting. It’s Mo’s, not Jessa’s.
When did I last see Jessa? Last week when I visited? Did she look strung out? My mind races, trying to think of something I overlooked. Goddammit, how did I miss it?
“How long has she been gone?” I ask Jayden.
“I saw her on Tuesday. We’d be fine, Harley, promise. But she took the EBT card.”
I have to clamp down on the anger—I’ve given Jessa chance after chance to clean up, and now she leaves the kids without enough food?—but Jayden sees it anyway.
“Mo’s been having us eat with her, and she’s been staying over each night. You gonna call CPS?” she asks, her face tight with worry.
I smile at her, trying to be reassuring, sad that she knows too much. “’Course not,” I say, even though that depends on what I find once I track Jessa down. If she’s using again…
I reach into my back pocket, coming up with my money clip. I peel off one of the hundreds I collected from Mrs. Talbot and hand it to Jayden.
“You go get Jamie and order a pizza. Get a salad, too. When you guys are done eating, I’ll have Mo drive you to the grocery store. I’m gonna go find your mom.”
Jayden looks down at the money, and I know the private war going on inside her. You’re not supposed to take too much charity. You’re supposed to hold your head high. Stay proud.
It’s bullshit, those lines our parents fed us.
You survive. Any way you can.
Jayden had to become a survivor, for better or worse.
“I’ll pay you back,” she mutters, her cheeks turning red as she stuffs the money in her pocket.
“And you gotta promise me something,” I say, kneeling down so I’m eye to eye with her. I put my hands on her shoulders. “If this happens again, you call me. Okay? That’s why I’m here. To make sure nothing happens to you and Jamie. And your mom.”
“I promise, Harley.” The relief in Jayden’s eyes makes me wonder if she’s lying. If Jessa’s been gone longer than two days.
I take a deep breath. Getting angry in front of Jayden is no use; it’ll just make her more upset. I knew when I let Jessa in that there might be consequences. She’s stubborn as a mule and wild as a bobcat. Trying to help her has never been easy, but I hoped it would be worth it. I check my watch. It’s quarter past eleven.
I’ve got to find her fast. I need to be at the Tropics for collection count by one.
“Go find your brother and get some food now,” I tell Jayden. “And remember what I said.”
She hugs me, quick, like she expects me to pull away instead of hold her tight. I hug her back, letting it last as long as she wants.
I wait until she’s walked down the drive to the enclosure surrounding the pool before I grab a carton of cigarettes from my truck. I let Busy hop up inside the truck cab and switch the AC on before I walk over to the largest of the A-frame cabins, where the office is.
Mo’s got a Camel Light in one hand, a cup of coffee in another. She looks up when she hears the door open.
When I was younger, she’d worn her hair long, but a few years back, she’d hacked it all off, muttering about how she was too damn old to bother with it anymore. I like that about her, how she has no tolerance for time wasting.
She’s a woman who gets shit done. I’ve learned more from her than any other woman in my life.
“Hey,” she says. “I was about to call you.”
“About Jessa?” I ask.
Mo’s lips press together as she takes a long drag. “Yep,” she says.
“How long has she been gone?” I ask again. I don’t have to hide how worried I am with Mo. She never lets stuff fall through the cracks like this.
But it’s Jessa, which is why I get it. Jessa’s charming and manipulative, and she knows how to sweet-talk anyone—man or woman. It’s why, despite all the using, all the bad behavior, she’s never lost her kids, unlike some of the other ex-tweekers at the Ruby.
“I wish you had called me.”
Mo looks down, stubbing out the butt in the chipped cup she’s using as an ashtray and lighting another before answering. “I was going to if she didn’t come home tonight. Wanted to give her some time before the warden came sniffing around.”
“Is that my new nickname?”
Mo grins. She’s never had a drug problem, unlike a majority of the people in my life. Her teeth are
straight, white, and perfect. “It’s what they called your momma.”
“Do I even want to know what they call you?”
Her grin widens. “Doubt it.”
“Have you called Centerfolds?” I ask. “Has she at least been showing up for work?”
Mo’s eyebrows scrunch up. “She lost her job there last month. Jayden let it slip today, which is another reason I was about to call.”
Goddammit. I slam my hand against the wall, and Mo frowns at me. “So she’s using again,” I say.
“I don’t think so.” Mo shakes her head. “I’ve heard some rumors. About her going across the river.”
My stomach sinks and twists all at once. I can feel color rising in my cheeks, hot anger rising and seeping through my skin.
I don’t have a lot of rules for the Rubies. Stay clean. No booze on the property. Keep your kids fed and in school. Get a job—I don’t care what—and keep it. No male visitors unless they’ve been checked out first.
And no going across the river. That rule is more for their safety than anything. In the world that men like my daddy and Carl Springfield run, the Rubies are mine. An extension of me, a legacy from Momma. They’re all McKennas, in a way. Crossing over the river is too much of a risk. They could get hurt.
I learned the hard way that Springfield’s always looking to hurt me.
“What the fuck is she doing across the river?” I ask Mo.
“I don’t know,” Mo shrugs, “but I think she has a boyfriend.”
“Jesus Christ.” I want to punch the wall again. “Okay, keep calling her for me. Can you or one of the other women take the kids to the grocery store? I gave Jayden money.”
“I’ll take them,” Mo says, nodding. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m gonna find Jessa,” I say. I set the carton of cigarettes I brought her down on the counter. “Let’s hope it’s before she fucks her life up again, chasing the high. I wish you would’ve told me sooner, Mo.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Sometimes we do things my way,” she says. “And if it doesn’t work…”
I sigh. “We do it my way,” I finish for her. It’s our agreement. Our vow to each other. And it means something. Everything.
“It’s not like you don’t keep things from me,” she says pointedly.
I bite my lip, trying to ignore the look in her eye. She knows me. Probably better than any of the adults who watched me grow up. She’s the only woman in my life I haven’t lost somehow. And I can’t lie to her.
“It’s safer if you don’t know,” I say, because I’m not going to disrespect her by denying it.
“I never really cared for safe,” Mo says. “You be careful out there, Harley.”
Seven
I’m sixteen the first time I learn what fearless looks like.
After my birthday, I have the kind of freedom I’ve only dreamed about. I’m grown. And finally, Daddy’s hold lessens just a sliver from the death grip he’s always had on me.
I spend a lot of time at the Ruby with Mo, as she teaches me what it means to run the place, to protect it, to live and be and breathe it.
The day everything goes to shit, it’s pouring down rain. It’s probably a sign or something, but I don’t take it as one when I arrive. A bunch of the kids are having a mud fight in the greenbelt behind the cottages, and Mo’s standing under a big umbrella, watching them with Amanda. They smile when they see me, waving me over, and I join them. The kids shriek and shout, stomping in puddles, flinging mud in every direction, reveling in the mess.
“You ever do this when you were a kid, Harley?” Amanda asks. “My momma would’ve yelled her head off if I got so dirty.”
I laugh. “I always got the better of Will during our mud fights. Or maybe he let me get the better of him.”
“That boy,” Mo says, shaking her head affectionately. “He’s not with you today?”
“He’s working for the Sons today.”
Mo’s mouth flattens, and she doesn’t say anything, but I know what she’s thinking. She doesn’t like Will working on the grow. She says it’s too dangerous, and she’s right. Pot is a white man’s game, because they don’t get busted as easy. The cops don’t need a reason to go after a Native man—they just do it. It makes everything Will does, every step he makes, a risk. And I can’t do a goddamn thing about it but watch as Daddy does the same thing Miss Lissa does: ignore that the rules are different for Will. That the stakes are higher. That the risks go deeper.
I try to think of something to say to Mo, but I know it’ll fall short. There’s no comfort to give. There’s just the reality that he’s stuck.
“We’ll both come by later this week and barbecue,” I promise, and Mo gives me a fleeting smile that fades quickly when the children’s shrieking is drowned out by a loud crashing sound, the scrape of metal against metal filling the air.
All three of us whirl around as one, eyes wide. The umbrella falls to the ground, Mo’s hand going to her waist.
“Amanda, get the kids inside,” Mo orders. “Tell the women. Take cover. Harley, come.”
I obey, falling into step next to her as Amanda runs out into the field, yelling for the kids. We move behind the cottages, blocked from view.
“Amanda’s got the kids. Get inside. Like we practiced!” Mo calls as women begin to peek their heads out of their back doors. They disappear at her calm orders, and we round the corner past the last cottage, the front of the property coming into view.
The gate that guards the Ruby’s entrance is down, busted off its hinges by a red F-150 with a now-crumpled, smoking hood.
The driver is nowhere to be seen.
“We need guns,” I say.
“Office,” Mo replies.
Swift and steady, we move through the rain. My heart’s pounding in my throat. I feel naked without a gun, my fingers twitching, restless and eager for a trigger.
I yank the lobby door open and we hurry to the back office. Mo’s phone buzzes, and she pulls it out.
“Amanda’s got the kids secure in Katie’s cottage,” she tells me. “She’s got everyone on that text chain she started. Everyone’s in touch and safe.”
“So far,” I say grimly, keying in the code to the gun safe tucked in the corner of the room. I pull out two shotguns and a box of shells, handing one of the guns to Mo. “Who do you think it is?”
“I don’t know,” Mo says, opening the box and loading the gun. “We don’t have anyone new. There haven’t been any problems.”
“He was probably lying low. Waiting for the right time.” I grab the .45 out of the safe, holstering it on my waist.
“You ready?” Mo asks.
My fingers curl around the shotgun. My hands are sweaty. I nod.
We walk back into the main lobby, armed and ready. With each step, dread builds in me.
This isn’t like anything I’ve ever had to do.
This may be the day I have to kill. Because I will lay a man down before I let him destroy the safety Mo and the Rubies have built.
I peer out the lobby window, squinting through the sheets of rain. And there he is, standing in the middle of the parking lot. He’s not moving. He’s just standing there.
Like he’s waiting.
“You see him?”
Mo nods, stepping forward.
“You know him?”
“That’s Katie’s father,” she says.
“Shit.”
Katie left her daddy’s house the day she turned eighteen and never looked back. She came from one of those super-fundie families, where the women aren’t much more than baby makers. They homeschool them and marry them off young and keep them pregnant. When Katie ran, her daddy had been setting up a courtship with a boy there’d been rumors about—rumors that he’d forced himself on another girl. Katie hadn’t even been able to use the word rape back when she told Mo. Forgiveness was paramount in those sorts of families—when it came to the men, at least. Man rapes a girl, all they’ve got to do is repent, and
all is well in their version of God’s eyes…women are such terrible temptations, after all. They just sweep it under the rug, blame the woman, and then it happens over and over and over again.
So Katie ran. And we sheltered her. It’d been a full year. She’s been talking about going to cosmetology school ever since she got that job sweeping up at the beauty shop. She does the prettiest braids for all the little girls at the Ruby. They follow her around like they’re her ducklings. It’s cute as hell. Katie’s sweet as hell.
“I’m gonna have to kill him,” I declare, and I’m already reaching for the door. My mind’s already made up.
“Wait,” Mo says. “Stay here.”
“But—”
“Stay.”
So few people are willing to give me orders, I’m half startled into obeying for a second.
She strides out into the open. Her gun’s not even raised. I dash out behind her, but it’s too late. So I hang back, wary, watchful. I want to raise my own gun, but I don’t see one on him. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t have one, but if it’s not out, I’m not gonna escalate the situation.
I have to trust Mo. She’s done this way more than me.
Mo walks right up to him, fucking fearless. Rain pounds down on them, plastering her hair to her head.
“You’re not welcome here, Aaron,” she says.
“I’m here for my girl,” he says.
“She’s not yours,” Mo says, still keeping her gun down. “She’s a grown woman. She gets to live where she wants, work where she wants, and do whatever the fuck she wants. You’ve already destroyed property, and now you’re trespassing. So you better go. Or I’ll give you a look at what hell’s really like.”
“Hell is what’s waiting for you,” he says, like it’s some sort of condemnation, coming from him.
“Any heaven that lets in men like you, I don’t want anything to do with,” Mo says. “If you don’t go, we’re going to have a big problem.”
“McKenna’s not in town,” he says. “I made sure.”
I have to lock my arms, every muscle in them tense, to keep myself from raising the shotgun at his smile after those words.
