She fed Vivi the chicken and peas—her favorite—gave her a bath, read her a story which always seemed to calm her down, and tucked her into the playpen.
The doorbell rang. It was seven thirty. The sun was low, casting bright orange rays, but the front of her house caught the morning sun, not the afternoon. Shadows covered the small porch. Sabrina approached the door slowly. She hated being afraid, hated the sour taste of fear in her mouth, hated the way her heart climbed out of her chest at every sharp noise.
The doorbell rang again, followed by a hard knock. “Pizza Hut.”
“Pizza Hut?” She peered out of the porch window at a delivery guy holding one of those red warming sleeves. “You have the wrong house. I didn’t order a pizza.”
“Yeah, well the person who ordered it said you’d say that. He also said to leave it on the porch and walk away if you wouldn’t open the door. So that’s what I’m gonna do.”
And that’s exactly what he did. He took the box out of the warmer and placed it on the top step. Sabrina waited until his Kia drove away to open the door. She tiptoed over to the box like it was a bomb. Then the smell hit her.
Nothing smelled as good as hot pizza. The cheese, the sauce, the dough. She flipped open the lid, and it was her favorite, a plain pie with gooey mozzarella on top.
Who bought this for her? She looked up and locked eyes with Liam Callahan. Without a second thought she snatched up the box and marched across the street, but he climbed onto his bike, revved the engine, and peeled away.
I should just leave it on his doorstep. Except, her stomach rumbled, and her mouth watered. She didn’t want to owe him. Her stomach had other ideas and cramped hungrily. Pride goeth before a fall. In the face of starvation, how much pride did one have?
He’s not Vincent. There are nice guys in the world. ’Bout time I finally met one. Take the pizza at face value and don’t starve.
Studying his house one last time, she took the pie home. She ate two slices, savoring each delicious bite, and wanted more. Actually, she could have descended on the box like a ravenous animal yet didn’t. If she could make the rest of the pie stretch for three days, maybe four, and make another trip to the food pantry, she’d almost make it to her next payday. Right now, almost was as good as it got.
∞∞∞
The ride was exactly what Liam needed to right himself. Though the trip to the hospital was short, the wind beating against him, the rumble of the engine, all gave him a false sense of freedom. He didn’t give a damn. Gotta get more time in the saddle.
Sabrina’s image, her standing in the middle of the street, popped into his head. She’d clutched the box, probably crushing the pizza inside. Would she eat it or let pride get the best of her and toss it away? I’ve never been hungry…
As soon as the thought occurred, he pushed it away. Of course he’d been hungry. However, he’d always had more than enough to quench his hunger. Be it food or sex, he’d never gone without.
How did one cope with being a single mother, abused, on the run, shitty job, a kid you had to feed when you couldn’t feed yourself? Could he do it? Shit. He didn’t want to find out. He’d always been careful, wrapping his junk up. Fatherhood wasn’t for him. The idea of something so little depending on him for its existence… Nah. I’ll pass. Plus, look at his role model.
He entered the ICU suite with ten minutes to spare before visiting hours ended. The nurses looked up from behind their station. “Evening,” he said, which earned him a few smiles and murmured replies. It never hurt to keep the staff happy.
“Visiting hours are almost over, but you can stay a little longer,” the pretty blonde said.
She was built how he liked them—top heavy, a small waist, enough ass to grab. Unfortunately, he wasn’t interested, didn’t know why, but definitely not interested. “Thanks, appreciate that.”
He walked in and halted. Snoop was already lounging at Finlay’s bedside. Liam caught the tail end of “shipment ready to go,” when Snoop clammed up. The surprise on his face was genuine. Liam was the last person he expected to see visiting Finlay, the rift between father and son well-known.
“Liam.”
“Snoop.”
Liam went to his father’s bedside. Finlay seemed a fraction better. The pasty color to his skin had changed to a chalky white. All the machines were the same, but he was sitting up instead of flat on his back. “You’re looking better.”
Finlay’s bloodshot eyes shifted between Liam and Snoop. Liam had seen that calculating glare a million times. Finlay was sizing the situation, measuring all the angles. What the fuck for, he wanted to ask, when he didn’t give a damn about club business.
“Thanks. Yeah. I’m feeling better. Not doped up. Out of the woods,” Finlay spoke so fast he was winded at the end. “You didn’t need to come down here.”
“That so?” Face deadpanned, voice neutral, Liam gave nothing away.
Finlay nodded once. “I think it’s best if you leave. Snoop and I got business to discuss,” he said as his voice weakened. He wasn’t in any condition to have a meeting with anyone, but that didn’t belabor the fact that Finlay wanted his son gone.
Never let it be said Liam stayed where he wasn’t wanted, and no one had to tell him to leave twice. “I’m out.”
Some emotion flashed across Finlay’s face, but Liam was past giving a damn. He exited the room, waved bye to the pretty nurse, and took his ass home, his conscience clean. If he never saw his father again, it would be too soon. Something twisted in his chest, which he ignored.
He glanced at his rental across the street and tried not to think about Sabrina. Altruism had run its course. Nice had gotten him nowhere, not with his father, and not with women. Fuck it all.
He pulled into his garage and parked but didn’t enter his house. Across the street, a dark house taunted him, along with the anger he’d seen on her face as she held the pizza box in front of her, like he’d sent poison to her doorstep instead of food. Call him an idiot, but he wanted to see her, wanted to make sure she’d eaten, make sure she was okay. She was too thin and too wounded.
What the hell am I thinking?
That was the problem. He wasn’t thinking. “You’re an idiot.”
The garage door rolled down when he hit the controller on the wall. He ducked beneath it and walked around to the front of the house to collect the mail. With a back kick to the door, he closed it and tossed the mail on the entry way table and missed. Half of the pile slid to the floor. Damn, he was more tired than he was willing to admit. Tempted to leave the mail where it lay, since they were all bills, he almost stepped over the pile when a blue Post-It caught his eye.
In simple script, a simple note. Thank you for the pizza. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it. He shouldn’t feel like he’d conquered the world or climbed Mount Everest. But damn if he didn’t.
Chapter Seven
“It’s okay, baby. It’s all right.” It wasn’t okay, but what else could Sabrina say when her daughter was red-faced from crying half of the night because of a rash covering her chest and abdomen, and she had a fever. So here they were, in the ER, waiting for test results. Blood, stool, urine, they took the samples five hours ago. They gave her meds to bring down the fever, but it did nothing for the rash. She hated being here. Her mother died in a hospital after falling into a diabetic coma at the age of forty. She couldn’t stand doctors or hospitals, yet sucked it up for her daughter.
After five hours of Vivi crying, Sabrina was ready to join her. God, she’d never been this tired, this stressed. She was supposed to be at work right now, making the money they needed to survive, after going to the pantry to get the food they needed to survive.
Surviving was exhausting.
She couldn’t have a repeat of last night. The pizza was great, but she had to get more food in the house.
“Miss Wilkins.” The doctor pushed aside the curtain and entered the cubicle. He was a young guy in blue scrubs and a lab coat. Intern, she guesse
d from the dark circles under his eyes and ripe smell wafting from him. Overworked and underpaid. She sat on the bed, rocking Vivi in her arms. “We got all the tests back and everything is clear. Vivian does have an ear infection, though.”
Great. “It’s her second one in three months.”
“I see that in her history. I’m going to write you a prescription for the medication we gave her and write you a referral to a specialist for further care. Call the doctor’s office tomorrow for an appointment within the next week.”
“What about her rash?”
“Have you changed anything with her? Her diet, shampoo, soap? Added or switched anything?” he asked.
“Um…” She had tried that cheaper laundry detergent and that generic baby wash to save money. “I did switch detergents and soap.”
“Switch back and see if that works.”
Great.
He handed her two scripts. “One’s a prescription for her meds, the other a referral to the ENT. Take her to her pediatrician tomorrow for a follow-up.” He handed her the discharge papers and left. No goodbye.
Sabrina gathered up her screaming child. She wanted to take her home, needed to take her home. She also needed a paycheck.
Like a hamster on a wheel, around they went, getting nowhere fast.
Exhausted, she sighed. She couldn’t take Vivi to daycare on meds with a fever and a rash. They wouldn’t accept her. Besides, she had to take her to the clinic tomorrow. Missing another day of work. Two days without pay. How would she make it up? Maybe overtime, if the manager let her. Waiting to fill Vivi’s prescription, the wheel spun faster and faster, a never-ending loop. That was her life. That was what she had to give her daughter.
Fifteen dollars to fill the prescription and buy new detergent and baby wash. How was she supposed to make it to her next paycheck when she had ten dollars left?
It’s gonna work out. It’s gonna work out. It has to work out. I have to make this work. She needed to talk to her manager, explain about today and tomorrow. Taking Vivi with her to the store was a good idea. He’d see her, realize she needed her job for her baby, and everything would be fine. He’d even let her make up the hours, somehow.
Vivi was asleep by the time she parked and lifted her from the car seat. She didn’t even wake as Sabrina navigated the parking lot and entered the store. For a Thursday evening it was full, but not surprising with the approaching weekend.
“Hey, Jennifer, is Fred around?” Sabrina stood at the end of the check-out line, next to the bag carousel, feeling more optimistic than she had a right to be.
Jennifer glanced at her while ringing up a customer. “You sure you want to see him? He wasn’t happy when you called out sick.”
He wouldn’t be happy when she told him she wouldn’t be here tomorrow either. Vivi sniffled and let loose a small whine but didn’t wake.
“She’s a cutey.” Jennifer grinned and went back to ringing up items.
Sabrina headed down the left aisle to the rear office, passing two of her co-workers, Mavis and Bruce. They had been an item since the store opened. They oohed and aahed over Vivi, and were sorry she was ill.
“My kids are grown, but I remember how it was. They got sick and I had to stay home and not get paid,” Mavis said then went back to work.
Bruce whispered before walking away, “Fred’s in a pissy mood. He was on the phone with the head office earlier. Something’s brewing.” He patted her shoulder and headed to the storage room.
At the end of the arts and crafts aisle, the door to the office was open. Fred was behind the desk, a stack of time cards littered the surface. She knocked on the jamb.
His head jerked up and yeah, he wasn’t pleased to see her. His lips thinned, causing them to vanish beneath the gray strip of hair on his top lip, and his eyes, already beady, vanished as his gaze narrowed. Sabrina gathered her courage. “Hello, sir. I came by to apologize for today. My daughter was sick—is sick. We just got done at the emergency room.”
He pushed back from his desk and leaned back in his chair. No response and not a flicker of concern. Sweat broke out all over her body, a feat since an overhead vent blew cold air down her back.
“Um.” She swallowed down the lump clogging her throat. “I have to take her to the pediatrician tomorrow. If they give her the all clear, I’ll be in tomorrow as soon as I can.” She said all that without taking a breath.
Fred shook his head, and the smidgen of hope she desperately held onto evaporated. “You’re not dependable and I need dependable workers. I gotta let you go.”
“But… But…” Say something! Anything! “Please. I need this job!”
“And I need a worker that’s here when they’re supposed to be here.”
“My daughter has an ear infection a-and a rash. What was I supposed to do? Let her be sick?” She didn’t mean to shout but couldn’t help it.
He sighed. “I understand, really I do. You put your daughter first as a good mother should. I have to put this job first. It’s all I have. For however long it lasts,” he mumbled and shuffled the time cards around.
“For however long it lasts?” That sounded ominous.
“The owner keeled over two months ago.”
“Yeah. So?” That wasn’t news.
Fred glared at her and sat up in his chair. His mouth opened about to answer and slowly closed. Whatever discourse they had was over. “I’ll mail you your last paycheck, Miss Wilkins.” And that was the end of the conversation. He returned to his paperwork, dismissing her.
“No! Do not mail my check. I will be here next Thursday to pick it up. In. Person. You hear me!” Too upset to wait for an answer, Sabrina held it together long enough to leave the store, strap Vivi into her car seat, and start the car.
Deep breath in. Slow breath out. She was fine as long as she didn’t think about anything in particular and kept her mind blank. Don’t think about the bills, the lack of job prospects, or the way her stomach cramped because she hadn’t eaten all day. Don’t think about anything and everything would be just fine.
It worked until the yellow fuel tank light chimed and blinked. And wouldn’t stop. Her eyes burned until a sheen of tears blurred her vision. Through shear will, she beat them back. Now wasn’t the time to fall apart. Vivi needed her medicine, and food, and a bath. Her daughter needed her, and if she could keep that thought at the forefront of her mind, she’d get through tonight. Just tonight. Tomorrow, she’d go back to the pantry, find a new job, get their life on the right track.
Food. Job. Life.
Food. Job. Life.
She parked in her driveway and got Vivi inside. On autopilot, she dropped her purse on the dining table and fished out the medication. She gave Vivi a dose of her medicine, fed her one jar of food. It wasn’t enough, but breast milk would fill her up and get her through the night.
A bath in the kitchen sink, some powder on the rash. Luckily the house was an oven. Vivi could sleep in her diapers until Sabrina rewashed her clothes. She plopped onto the couch and brought Vivi to her breast. Her little mouth latched on and pulled hard at the nipple and…no milk. Vivi whined.
This is not happening.
Sabrina squeezed her breast, trying to pump milk into Vivi’s mouth. When that didn’t work, she switched to her other breast, squeezing to the point of pain.
She got nothing for her effort. Her milk had dried up.
Chapter Eight
Thirty-two hours of labor—the last five hard, unrelenting pain. She watched the head crown in the mirror positioned on the ceiling, her emotions a mixture of wonderment, terror, and a driving instinct to push it out. It being the parasite that was forced upon her and had hijacked her body.
And the pain, dear God, the epidural had worn off when she was eight centimeters dilated and she couldn’t have more. That was hours ago, and the pain had escalated until every muscle in her body demanded one thing…push.
A guttural scream born from a biological imperative, she gave in to instinct and
a five-pound, three-ounce infant slipped from between her legs. She was small, which was expected after all the scans, her skin waxy and wrinkled, unexpected. Sabrina’s first thought: I’m not pregnant anymore and why isn’t she crying?
Two agonizing minutes of nurses and doctors working on her, blocking Sabrina’s view of the plastic bassinet. Two minutes of shouted orders, demands for medicine, someone ordering the newborn to breathe. One hundred and twenty seconds of Sabrina crying for the doctors suddenly filling the delivery room to save the baby she hadn’t wanted, and now was desperate to hold.
“Is she alive!” she screamed and shoved a nurse away who’d tried to hold her down. “What the hell is going on!” She tried to climb off the bed to get to her child, only to be pinned to the mattress. She wasn’t a fighter, proven each time Vincent kicked her ass. Today, she fought as she never had before. If they wouldn’t bring her the baby, she’d go get it herself. “Tell me, what’s going—”
A weak cry filled the room, and a cheer went up. Sabrina sagged into the arms of the nurse.
Turns out, for nine months she’d been lying to herself. It’s not that she didn’t want a baby, she didn’t want Vincent’s baby, the man who beat her, who imprisoned her, threatened to pimp her out, and used a pregnancy to control her.
No, she didn’t want his child, not until she watched her body bring life into the world. Not until that innocent life was in jeopardy. Not until the nurse bundled that life in a white, pink and blue striped blanket, and gently placed her in Sabrina’s arms.
That moment when she looked into eyes so clear she could almost see her reflection, she knew she’d do whatever it took to protect Vivian, because this was her child. Whatever it took.
No milk?
Sabrina broke. Completely, utterly broke. How much further could she fall? And how could she drag Vivi down with her. Her daughter deserved better. She deserved everything and more. The world if Sabrina could give it to her. But…apparently…she couldn’t.
Plain Jane and the Bad Boy (Plain Jane Series) Page 6
