Prologue
“Got everything?”
Rosalie Underwood answered Clyde’s question with an enthused smile. They met each other halfway, kissing under the rising Louisiana sun. Next to them on the sidewalk, Rosalie’s single suitcase tipped over onto its side. She had spent the better half of last night stuffing it with as many belongings as possible. She needed to be packed and ready to go come dawn.
Clyde hadn’t given a time, and she didn’t want to leave him waiting outside.
Worse, she didn’t want to alert Ma. It would only lead to another heated confrontation. Their fourth in less than a week. The most recent one had shoved Rosalie over the edge. She reached her breaking point and snapped. She made a decision she had threatened in the past, but never gone through with: she was running away with Clyde.
“Get in,” he said in his deep baritone. He clicked the tiny remote on his key chain and walked around to the car’s driver side. “If we roll out now we’ll be halfway there by tonight.”
Rosalie paused for a quick second to release a tremor of excitement. She had never crossed the Louisiana state border, let alone traveled to a big city like Baltimore. For the seventeen years she had been on this earth, she had been stuck in St. Aster. She assumed she would be for the rest of her life. Just like her ma and her grandma before her.
But now everything was changing. Within the next two days, she would be starting her life over again with Clyde.
“My wallet,” said Rosalie. She glanced in her crossbody bag and found only her lip gloss and cell phone. She looked over her shoulder at the narrow shotgun house Ma was proud to own. The house was silent and the curtains were drawn. If she snuck inside really fast, the chances of being heard were slim to none…
“I’ll be back.”
Clyde shook his head but said nothing. He didn’t need to in order to express his opinion of Ma. He hated her. And she hated him. The relationship between her boyfriend and Ma was contentious at best. Downright hostile at worst. Ma hated the rebellious streak Clyde brought out of her. Clyde hated the rules and boundaries Ma set. Ma thought Rosalie had no business running the streets with a guy six years her senior. Clyde thought Ma was a hypocritical, mean-spirited nag.
Rosalie agreed with Clyde. Ma’s primary goal was to keep them apart. She refused to give in to the dictatorial rule. She was a grown woman—sort of. In another four months she would turn eighteen. That was close enough.
She squared her shoulders, stepped forward toward Ma’s house, and didn’t look back. Her key twisted in the lock and the door clicked open. Her petite body slipped between the thin crack and she hesitated for a second longer. The living room and hallway were both empty. She slunk toward the staircase, moving lightly on her feet like a dancer.
Every other step she stopped and listened. No sound. Ma was either asleep or in the bathroom. She continued onto the second floor landing, tiptoeing by Ma’s room. In her own bedroom, she found her wallet under her bed and stuffed it into her purse. She crawled to the window and peered onto the street below. Clyde waited in his car, bobbing his head to his music. She smiled watching him.
“You’re really leaving with him.”
Rosalie froze on her knees by the windowsill. The smile dropped from her face and she avoided turning around. The stern but syrupy voice contradicted itself, but then again, so did Ma.
“You’d be stupid to go,” she continued with a bluntness that cut deep. “If you leave with him, you’re going to regret it.”
“It’s too late. I’m going.” Rosalie zipped her crossbody purse and rose to her feet. The teenage fear inside of her held her back from facing Ma, but after a few tentative seconds passed, she broke free from it. She spun around and glared. “I packed my stuff. He’s outside.”
“I know he is. I have windows. And if you go, you’re a fool.”
“I’m a fool anyway,” Rosalie replied. “Isn’t that what you always say? I’m a fool for being with him?”
Ma’s lips pinched into a smile. “You don’t have to believe me now. But you’ll see. You’ll come back to me crying and begging.”
“I’m done,” Rosalie said coldly. She scanned her bedroom for any last belongings. Tension zinged through her entire body, shooting up her toes to her brain. She ignored the strain on her temples and stiffness in her neck. “You’re not gonna see me again ’cause I’m not coming back.”
Ma sneered and Rosalie’s anger surged in a hot flash that left her flesh warm and clammy. She rushed for the door, but Ma blocked its width.
“You can’t go,” she said. “You’re only seventeen. I’ll call the police.”
“Go ahead,” challenged Rosalie. “You can’t stop me.”
She shoulder checked Ma on her way out. The insolence was unlike her, but it was too late. Her temper had already soared beyond rational reach. She stormed down the hall and skipped steps on the staircase. Halfway down she heard the pad of Ma’s steps scurrying after her. She didn’t turn and look. She shot for the front door.
“Rosalie!” Ma called in a tone that broke. She stopped on the last stair and drew a shuddery breath. “You’re not welcomed back! I don’t care what foolishness he puts you through.”
Rosalie wrenched the door open, the summer warmth a rush that blew onto her cheeks. Clyde’s car idled by the curb waiting on her to hop in. Behind her, Ma put her foot down and gave her an ultimatum. She hovered between two different futures, building the resolve to choose one and never look back.
She hesitated long enough to scan the family pictures on the wall. The one hanging by the door was from over ten years ago. In the photo, she sat in Ma’s lap and beamed at the camera with missing front teeth. It was back when everybody called her Ma’s mini-me. When she was proud of the nickname. Skin as smooth and brown, and hair as thick and coarse, a time she couldn’t wait to grow up and be just like Ma.
Then she remembered who snapped the photo and any nostalgia soured. Ma’s boyfriend at the time, Terrance, had pulled out his Polaroid camera and asked them to pose for a picture. She hadn’t known it as he snapped away, but in a matter of weeks, he would wreak havoc on their lives. He and the other men in and out of their home over the years. The men Ma had invited inside…
Her choice was clearer than ever.
“Bye, Ma,” she said, crossing the threshold outside. Her walk toward Clyde’s car was stilted and unnatural, like a little girl walking in her mother’s heels for the first time. She slid into the passenger seat and stared straight ahead. Though she said nothing, her silence communicated enough. She was ready to go.
Clyde shifted gears and pressed on the gas. The car shot forward and Ma’s house began to sink out of view. Rosalie closed her eyes and inhaled a fresh breath. Her earlier excitement slowly trickled in and her mouth spread into a triumphant smile.
“What’s that look for?” Clyde snuck her a glance, his heavily hooded eyes sparking with an amusement of his own. “She give you any problems?”
“It doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing she says matters anymore,” Rosalie boasted. The realization sunk in and she released a girlish laugh. “Now we can do whatever we want.”