The Cakes of Wrath (3 page)

He shoved his beefy hands into the pockets of his jeans and hunched his shoulders. “I hope this isn't overstepping, but since you're coordinating donations for the cleanup, I was hoping you'd let Destiny help out. She wants to get involved. You saw that for yourself upstairs at the meeting, but some people keep trying to block her.”

That wasn't exactly what I was expecting, but I didn't let the element of surprise throw me. “Of course, she's welcome to donate supplies like everyone else,” I said. “In addition to the cleaning stuff, we're going to need lots of water to keep volunteers hydrated, and snacks to keep their energy up.”

Moose ran a hand along the back of his neck. “No, I meant
help
. Be part of the team. Or the committee. You know . . . work with you. It would go a long way to making the others take her seriously.”

Personally, I thought a change of wardrobe might gain more ground, but I didn't say so aloud. In fact, I couldn't make myself say anything. I think it was the way Moose was looking at me—like a hopeful little boy peeking out of that huge man-sized body. All I could think was, why did he have to ask me? Why couldn't he have found someone else to ask? I didn't have the heart to say no to him, but Edie would blow a gasket if I said yes.

“Things have been pretty rough the past few years,” Moose confided. “And the thing is, Destiny and I really need a new start, what with the arrest and all.”

I just nodded and said, “Everyone deserves a second chance.” I didn't know what else to say.

Moose's eyes lit up and a smile tugged on one corner of his mouth. “Yeah. That's right. It wasn't as bad as it sounds, you know. Possession with the intent to distribute. She just had a few prescription drugs she got from a friend. But they make it sound like she's some kind of drug dealer or something.”

I was still at a loss for words, but I managed, “So it was a drug charge?”

Moose nodded and scratched idly at a tattoo of a rose dripping blood on his shoulder. “Yeah, but like I said, it was really all a misunderstanding.”

I wasn't sure I believed that, but once again Moose's plea on his wife's behalf won me over. Who knew I had such a soft spot for men who could crush me with one hand?

“So anyway, is it okay? Can she help out tomorrow?”

“No.” That's what I should have said. What I actually said was, “Yeah. Sure. We're going to meet at Zydeco after lunch, so tell her to be there around one.”

That would give me time to explain my decision to Edie and maybe bribe her to cooperate. I saw a flash of gratitude in Moose's eyes. At least, I thought I did. It was dark, so I couldn't see his expression that well. Plus, at that precise moment a panel van roared around the corner, temporarily blinding me with its headlights.

What happened next is a blur. I must have turned to look at the van because I realized those headlights were coming directly toward us. Time seemed to move in slow motion, but my brain and my body were moving even slower. “Watch out!” I shouted. “I think he's dr—
urrff
!”

Something huge and hard slammed into me with enough force to knock the air out of my lungs. I flew through the air for an instant and then hit the sidewalk. My bare arms and legs scraped across the pavement, setting half of my body on fire. The other half had lost all feeling from the impact.

My head throbbed and I tried to catch my breath, but my lungs refused to cooperate. Other than some dim light on the edge of my peripheral vision, I couldn't see a thing. Sluggish and dazed, I tried to figure out what had happened, my ears seemed to be the only part of my body still in perfect working condition. I heard a chorus of voices shouting, some running footsteps, and the roar of an engine as the van sped off.

And then I died. Or maybe I just wished I had.

All the warnings Aunt Yolanda had given me when I was growing up raced through my aching head. She'd tried to instill the tenets of her Catholic faith in me, but I'd been an angry kid after my parents died and I'd wanted nothing to do with God. As I now floated gently up to heaven, I realized I should have been a better person. I should have been kinder. I should have . . .

A deep groan interrupted my thoughts, and my vision slowly cleared as Moose moved off me. “You okay, Miss Rita?”

I would have breathed a sigh of relief, but my lungs still weren't working properly. “I'm not sure,” I croaked. “What happened?”

“We nearly got hit by that sonofabitch in the van.” Moose leveraged himself up with one hand and looked me over carefully. “Sorry I tackled you so hard. I just didn't want you hurt.”

Um . . . too late. Not that I wasn't grateful. As bad as I felt, I knew it could have been a whole lot worse. I moved slowly, gingerly, testing each part of my body as I tried to sit up. There wasn't a single inch of me that wasn't numb or throbbing with pain.

“Felix is calling 911,” Moose said as he got to his feet. With his two-hundred-fifty-plus pounds off my chest, I could finally breathe a little better. I held out a hand, thinking he would help me up. He motioned for me to stay put. “The cops and paramedics should be here soon. I hit you pretty hard. It might be a good idea to get checked out before you try to walk around.”

“I'm fine,” I assured him. But we both knew I was lying. I struggled to sit up straighter, but an electric current zapped up my neck and dizziness swamped me. With a groan, I sank back onto the pavement. “Where's the van?”

“Gone.”

I closed my eyes and sighed. That hurt, too. “Seriously? The driver didn't even stop?”

“The jerk didn't even slow down.”

“Probably drunk,” I said, finally getting out what I'd been trying to say when Moose hit me. A fresh wave of pain rolled through my neck and back, and tears of frustration burned my eyes. I wanted to get home, take a hot bath, and let TV and ice cream provide me with the comfort I so desperately needed. But Moose was probably right. It would be a mistake to try walking back to Zydeco, and an even bigger mistake to attempt driving home. I felt horrible now, but I suspected I'd feel a whole lot worse tomorrow.

The paramedics agreed and insisted on transporting me to the hospital. Hearing that, Edie appeared out of nowhere and offered to go with me. I didn't want to rob her and the baby of their sleep, so I sent them both home. Destiny and Edgar had vanished after the meeting, leaving Moose some free time, I guess. He followed me to the ER and hung around the waiting room, helping me answer questions for the police. They'd made a few notes and some noises about doing their best to find the van and its driver, but they didn't instill a lot of hope. Finally, the doctor announced that I would live. Moose drove me home, and offered to come inside to make sure I got settled in, but I turned him down for two reasons: First, I was way too tired and sore to want anybody hovering over me. And second, he was married. To Destiny. Who might have been busy elsewhere but could still take me out if I crossed her. I didn't want her thinking there was something funny going on, so I took my aching body inside alone, stripped out of my shorts and T-shirt (which now looked like roadkill), and fell into bed.

I woke the next morning to sun shining in my eyes and a body that felt as if I'd been hit by a moose. Which I guess I sort of had. Unlike in my hometown of Albuquerque, where the sun rises slowly behind the mountains, in New Orleans it pops up over the eastern horizon like a jack-in-the-box. After a year in the city, I'm still trying to adjust my body clock to brilliant sunlight before seven in the morning.

I might have gone back to sleep, but I had a meeting with Miss Frankie at ten, and I didn't want her to get to Zydeco before me. I knew I couldn't keep her from finding out about my brush with that rogue van last night, and since losing Philippe, she worries about me a lot. I wanted her to see me at the same time she heard about the accident, so she'd know I wasn't seriously hurt.

Doing my best to ignore the pounding in my head, I stumbled down the hall to the bathroom and checked out my reflection for the first time. Big mistake. A massive purple bruise colored one side of my jaw and another spread across the opposite cheek. It would take more makeup than I owned to completely hide the bruises, and I couldn't do a thing about the swelling. But I could wear long pants and sleeves to cover the ugly red scratches on my arms and legs. Maybe that would keep Miss Frankie from freaking out too much.

I stood under the hot spray of the shower for a few minutes, then dragged myself out and blotted myself dry with a towel. I was still sore, but I thought the shower had loosened my tight muscles a little. Or maybe it was just wishful thinking.

After plastering foundation over the bruises, hoping to at least dull the lovely black-and-blue effect, I added blush and mascara. Since my car was still at Zydeco, I called a cab. The emergency room physician had given me a couple of prescriptions before I left the hospital. Last night I'd been convinced I wouldn't need to fill them. But whatever they'd given me at the hospital had long since worn off, so I asked the cabbie to drop me off at Magnolia Street Drug. I hate the feeling of being drugged, but I figured I'd have a better chance of convincing Miss Frankie that I was okay if I didn't groan or grimace every time I moved.

I paid the cab driver and hobbled inside, heading straight for the pharmacy at the back of the store, where Sebastian Walker was on duty. He took one look at my face and gasped. “Good Lord!”

I touched the bruise on my jaw with the tip of my finger and tried to laugh. “And here I thought I'd done such a good job with my makeup.”

Sebastian leaned in for a better look, his gaze tight with worry. “Is this what happened last night?”

I had expected the news to travel through the neighborhood quickly, but I'm always surprised by how fast information actually makes it from one end of the block to the other. “You heard about that, huh?”

“I was there. You don't remember?”

I shook my head and winced. “Sorry. It's kind of a blur.”

“Moose was really worried about you. We all were. He hit you pretty hard. But I had no idea it was this bad.”

“Yeah. Well. As you can see . . .” I held out my arms, felt a little dizzy, and lowered them slowly. “Thank God for Moose. If he hadn't been there to knock me out of the way, I think the van probably would have hit me.”

“Probably?” Sebastian said with a disbelieving laugh. “The police might think it was an accident, but I swear that van was heading straight for you. If Moose hadn't been there, we'd be planning your funeral right now.”

That odd electrical impulse zinged up my neck again. “I don't think it was quite that close.”

“You'll forgive me for arguing, but I know what I saw. I'm sure Lorena will back me up. I saw her right before the van came around the corner.”

“He was probably drunk,” I said. “He shouldn't have been driving at all. I don't suppose you actually saw the driver?”

Sebastian shook his head. “Sorry. It happened so fast. I saw that van heading for you and freaked out a little. The best I can tell you is I think the driver was alone. I'm pretty sure there was only one shadow inside.”

“Are you sure he didn't swerve to avoid us? Not even at the last minute?”

Sebastian pulled a clipboard from a hook on the wall and frowned down at it. “He didn't swerve. In fact, I'd swear he was trying to hit you. You must have an enemy out there somewhere.”

I tried to laugh, but managed only a choked sound. He was wrong. What he suggested was impossible. Wasn't it?

“No enemies,” I said firmly. “If it wasn't a drunk driver, it was probably someone texting a friend so he didn't see us there.”

“Yeah,” Sebastian said, but he sounded uncertain. “I'm sure you're right. What else could it have been?”

What else indeed?

The conversation was making me uneasy, so I changed the subject. “Luckily everything turned out all right. But I have a couple of prescriptions here. Some kind of pain medication and an antibiotic, I think. Should I wait, or come back later?”

Sebastian looked over the prescriptions. “You can wait if you want. It shouldn't take more than fifteen or twenty minutes. Just make yourself comfortable. I'll let you know when it's ready.” He nodded toward a small strip of plastic chairs joined by dented pieces of metal. A handful of magazines lay on a chipped table, offering reading material that was probably several months out of date. On a corkboard behind the chairs, flyers and bulletins hung lopsidedly from multicolored pushpins.

The waiting area held no appeal so I picked up a small basket from a stack against the wall and strolled away slowly. Aunt Yolanda's birthday was in two weeks, and I still hadn't picked up a card or a gift. Maybe I could find something here.

I checked out a display of inexpensive perfumes and decided to pass, looked over some cheap costume jewelry, and sniffed several varieties of shower gel. Okay, so maybe this wasn't gift central. Instead, I picked up a bottle of ibuprofen, added deodorant and Febreze, and then moved into the greeting card aisle.

Someone else was standing at the far end of the aisle, and it took only a second to recognize Destiny Hazen. She wore short leather shorts, a lacy pink tank top, and matching pink stilettos. A real class act.

Until that moment, I'd forgotten all about my conversation with Moose and my promise to let Destiny work with me this afternoon. My feet stopped moving and I stared like a deer in the headlights while I tried to decide whether to duck and run or to act like a grown-up and go over to say hello.

Before I could make a decision, she glanced up, spotted me, and jiggled in my direction. “Ohmigod, Rita! Look at you!” She held out her arms as if she intended to hug me.

I flinched inwardly and shifted to avoid a direct hit. I didn't want to seem rude, but ouch!

Since I'd avoided the embrace, she settled for a thoughtful scowl and took my chin in her hand. Thankfully, her touch was gentle and the pain minimal. “Moose told me what happened. I just couldn't believe it. Are you all right?”

“I'm fine,” I assured her. “I look worse than I feel.”

“Well, that's a blessing isn't it? Moose said the driver just took off!”

“That's what they tell me. I don't know for sure. I couldn't see much.”

“Hmmm-hmmm-hmmm. Can you believe it? What is this world coming to? That's what I want to know.” She peered into my basket and nodded toward the ibuprofen. “I'll bet you're all kinds of sore today.”

“That's an understatement.”

“You think that's going to be enough? I've got some Lortabs at home left over from when my back was so bad a few months ago. I could give you a few if you want.”

I shook my head and tried not to look surprised by the offer. Maybe she really had been sick. Who would have guessed? “I'm sure I'll be fine. Sebastian is filling a prescription for me right now.”

“Oh?” She pursed her glossy pink lips and tilted her head like a curious bird. “What did they give you?”

“I don't remember. Something for pain and an antibiotic. That's all I know.”

“Well. Good for you. And I hope they catch the guy who did this soon. You should make him pay for everything. I have a cousin who's an attorney if you need one.”

“Thanks, but I don't think that will be necessary. I doubt we'll ever find out who was driving the van. And besides, technically Moose was the one who knocked me down.”

Destiny's eyes widened in surprise. “He wouldn't have knocked you down if the van hadn't been trying to get you. And I'm sure you'll find out who was driving. Edgar recognized the van—at least that's what he told me.”

“I didn't realize Edgar was there at the time. Didn't the two of you leave after the alliance meeting?”

Destiny nodded. “Yeah, but we were talking on the corner by the dollar store. I just heard the van. It was gone before I turned around, but Edgar saw it.”

“Did Edgar say whether he saw the driver?”

“No, but he's almost positive it was the Second Chances van.”

I'm pretty sure my mouth fell open at that. “But that's impossible. Why would Aquanettia drive around like a maniac? How could she have done it? She was still upstairs when I left.”

“I didn't say it was her,” Destiny said with a smirk. “Although I wouldn't put it past her. But it was probably one of her boys. Keon most likely. Isaiah's all right, but Keon's practically always in some kind of trouble.”

I knew Aquanettia's sons only by sight and reputation. Isaiah, the older at twenty-three, was tall, thin, and serious about his studies at a local tech school. Keon, two years younger, was shorter and stockier, tougher, and more rebellious. And if neighborhood gossip was right, a high school dropout.