Special creations.
Toppings.
Fuck, she was never gonna make it through this night.
She cleared her throat—or at least tried to—and squeezed Emerson’s hand. “How about you order for both of us? You get one. I’ll get the other.”
The smile he hit her with would’ve knocked her over if he hadn’t been holding her hand, and the tightness behind her chest threatened to snuff out her heart altogether.
Cassie leaned in close and splayed one hand between Bonnie’s shoulder blades. “You okay?”
Hell no, she wasn’t okay. Okay was a fresh iced tea when it was August and 105 degrees outside, or someone tipping you with a scratch-off lottery ticket and finding out you just got a free tank of gas. Spending a night with nice people and getting a glimpse of the good life when it was only going to disappear in hours was nothing short of cruel. “A little overwhelmed, if you want to know the truth.”
She chuckled at that and wrapped her arm around Bonnie’s waist. “Believe it or not, I absolutely get it.”
Bonnie doubted that. Just looking at Cassie, she could see how she’d fit in with the people around her. This lifestyle. She was pretty. Stylish. Always knew how to make people feel comfortable. The same held true for Evie.
The best Bonnie could claim was a decent skill for talking drunks out of driving and a willingness to pull out a baseball bat if it meant breaking apart a late-night brawl.
Minute by minute, they made their way to the front of the line. Everyone placed their order except for Bonnie, who waved Emerson toward the cashier in her place. Evie, Emerson and Cassie all watched the staff behind the plexiglass doing their thing with the ice cream on the cold metal tables, but all Bonnie could do was soak in the crowd.
The families.
The couples.
A few college students palling around on a weeknight.
And, of course, a few badass guards watching from the corner table.
Sorry, Bonnie. My parents say I can’t hang out with you anymore.
Did you hear about her mom? She was so shit-faced she plowed into a tree and bit it.
You don’t want to mix with her and her family. Bad blood, the lot of them.
God, she was pathetic. Twenty-five years old and she was still replaying the old cuts she’d been dealt in high school.
But every single word they’d said was true.
She’d come from trash.
It didn’t matter how long or hard she tried, her roots kept her locked in place.
“That’ll be $30.50,” the cashier said.
Before Bonnie could shake the stupor of her thoughts or the shock at such a high tab for ice cream, Evie handed over two twenty-dollar bills.
“Oh, hang on.” Bonnie slid her backpack off her shoulder and unzipped the front pocket. “Let me get you money for mine.”
“Don’t be silly,” Evette said, waving her off. “You’ve had a hell of a day. The least we can do is treat you for dessert.”
No hesitancy. Not so much as a blip of concern on the amount of cash changing hands or any indication of how vastly the scales of give-and-take were out of balance since the minute she’d met them. Still, the offer was a huge plus. She could hit Taco Bell for a full-size meal twice on a seven-dollar savings. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
She reached for her order when the lady who’d made it handed it over—four pretty rolls of ice cream with sauce artfully drizzled over the top of it—and followed everyone to a table near the guards.
Her stomach churned, not the least bit interested in the treat in front of her, and her mouth felt like she hadn’t had a drop to drink in days. Despite the chilled wind sweeping through the front door every time it opened and the coolers that kept the ice cream nice and cold, a clammy sweat blanketed her back.
Evie, Emerson and Cassie chattered about their selections, oohing and ahhing over how good everything was.
8:45 p.m. showed on her watch.
Three more minutes and another trolley would stop just outside the ice cream shop. Granted, she’d only get three-quarters of the way to Tremé on the St. Charles, but it’d be better than sitting here waiting for her nerves to swallow her whole.
She kept her head down and forced a tiny bite.
“Do you like it?” Emerson asked.
The best she could do was nod and focus on keeping the food down.
Her knee started bouncing under the table, and her breath got so shallow the room around her got a little hazy.
“Bonnie, are you okay?”
It was Cassie’s voice, the volume of it low and private, but carrying genuine concern.
She couldn’t do this.
She’d been wrong to call Cassie.
Wrong to step outside what she knew and bring good people into her mess of a life.
She pushed her ice cream toward Emerson. “Sorry, buddy. I can’t eat this. It’s good, but you gotta finish it.”
Before he could ask why, she turned to Cassie. “Listen. I really appreciate you coming today.” She glanced at Evie then back to Cassie. “For dinner. For everything. But I can’t do this.”
She stood, grabbed her backpack and threw it over her shoulder.
The guards perked up, ready to move.
“Do me a favor,” she said to Cassie. “Just let me go. Don’t worry. I’m good. I promise. I’ll even text you when I get home. Just tell those guys to chill, okay?”
“But Bonnie—”
“Please don’t. You’re all awesome. Really. I just—” Feel like a complete imposter. Like someone’s going to show up at any moment and throw ice-cold water on me. “I need to go.”
She turned, hustled out the glass door and toward the empty tracks.
Right on time, the trolley clanged its impending arrival, the soft glow of the St. Charles marker at the top of it as close to comfort as she’d felt in hours. She hopped on as soon as it stopped, paid the fare and plopped down on the side bench.
Her pulse hammered in her throat, but her lungs finally pulled in a decent gulp of air.
Outside the window Cassie, Evie and Emerson stood in front of the ice cream shop, a guard on either side.
But they weren’t following her.
Just watching and letting her go exactly as she’d asked.
That’s good. It’s better that way. Cleaner. Less pain and disappointment.
She hugged her backpack tight against her chest and pulled in another deep breath. The same clamoring panic that had threatened to consume her still crawled beneath her skin, but the dark edges that had clouded her vision began to abate.