Enzo, p.3
Enzo, page 3
Like me?
I almost laugh at that thought. I’m not some sicko who checks out kids.
“I was tired when I said that, but I certainly didn’t mean for it to sound that way,” I assure her. “I just meant that it’s not that easy for me to yank you out of here and move you. There has to be some semblance of proof of neglect or abuse. Lots of hoops to jump through. I’m not even here officially.”
Jenna grits her teeth, stealing a glance at Cora. “So, they can starve us, just not touch us. Got it.”
Thoughts of Don “touching” her boil my blood. “He even thinks about touching you and he’ll regret it,” I snarl. “Either of you.”
Jenna’s cheeks turn pink and she stares at me with her lips parted. Yep, too pretty. Too fucking pretty to be in this house with Don and his lingering stares.
“I’m sorry,” she utters before launching herself at me.
The hug I’d so freely and stupidly given her the other day was clearly permission for her to do it back. I’m stunned as she embraces me in a way that feels familiar and warm. I’m even further stunned that I squeeze her back.
“Nothing to be sorry for.” My words are firm and yield no room for argument.
“I, uh, I…” Her voice cracks.
“Yeah?”
The silence stretches on. Like she wants to tell me more, but refrains. It unnerves me. I don’t like the vibe here, but I can’t go on hunches. I need more.
“Never mind,” she mumbles, her voice tired and defeated.
“Call me if you need to,” I remind her before pulling away and standing. I squat and ruffle Cora’s hair. “Bye, kiddo.”
Cora squawks and runs over to Jenna, who pulls her into her lap and gives me a small wave.
I leave with a heavy heart. Everything in me screams to turn around and help them. Help them from what, though? My instincts aren’t enough. I need more. Once I’m in my car, I pull out my laptop and do some research on Don and Barb. Nothing concrete, but I don’t get a good feeling. I call my attorney friend, Nick.
“Hello?”
I growl out my words. “Something’s not right.” More like everything. Everything about their situation is sketchy. I don’t fucking like it one bit.
“The boys?”
“Not just the boys. Cora and Jenna too. I did some digging, and this couple is friends with Juanita Aikens.” Bad people tend to stick together.
He’s silent for a moment, and then I can hear the strain in his voice when he says, “What do we do?”
“I was hoping you’d know,” I tell him.
I can’t pull them. Not on the basis of a teenager’s claim they don’t feed them and the creepy way he looked at Jenna. It’s not enough. But I still don’t like it, the way he looked at her. Call it a hunch.
“Let me talk to August and see what we can do,” he replies with a heavy sigh.
I hope whatever it is, it’s enough.
I’m tired of letting these kids down.
As soon as Mr. Tauber leaves, I lock the door again. I’m not leaving it to chance. I’ve caught Don in here in the middle of the night, staring at me, and once, he entered the bathroom while I was showering to “put the towels away.”
I should have told Mr. Tauber.
Lorenzo.
But what could he have done? He’s already said unless it’s something big, there’s nothing he can do. Defeated, I sink down on the bed, wishing I could sleep until my birthday. Then, Cora and I can get the hell out of here.
“Book,” Cora whines, shoving a picture book in my face.
I smile at her and we settle on my bed. She snuggles against me, playing with my hair.
“This book is called My Mommy,” I say, keeping the tightness out of my voice. The last thing she needs to learn about are mommies. Mommies are weak and leave their children when times get tough. Both of our mommies sucked.
“My mommy is nice. My mommy likes rice,” I read in a cheerful voice. “My mommy sings a song about the sun. My mommy is a lot of fun.”
Cora looks up at me and beams her adorable toothy grin.
“My mommy feeds me lunch. My mommy likes to munch…on cookies.”
Cora giggles. “Cookies!”
“My mommy washes my face. My mommy cleans all over the place.”
She snuggles up against me. “My mommy is Jenna.”
I freeze at her words. “I’m Sissy.”
“Mommy,” she argues, her cute nose scrunching.
“Uhhh, do you want to find a different book?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Mommy book, Mommy!”
“Cora,” I say firmly. “I’m Sissy.”
“Mommy! Mommy!” she wails, and begins throwing a tantrum. The book gets kicked to the floor as she kicks and squirms. “Mommy! Mommy!”
“Shhh, banshee baby, shhh. You’re going to make mean old Don come in here,” I chide, hugging her to me.
“Mommy,” she sobs. “My mommy.”
I let out a heavy sigh, blinking back the tears. “In our room, you can call me Mommy. Is that better?”
She nods, another sweet grin plastered on her teary face.
“Other people might not like it if you call me Mommy, so it’s our secret, okay?”
Her little head nods again, and I kiss her silky hair. One day, I’m going to legally make this kid mine. Then, no one will ever be able to separate us. She can call me Mommy all she wants when that time comes.
“Want to go play with Malachi and Xavier and Joseph?”
She gives one long look at her book on the floor before conceding to give it up to go play with the boys.
Come on, eighteen…stop taking so freaking long to get here.
I leave Cora in the room with the boys so I can catch up on homework. Coach Long’s Precalculus class is killing me, but I need to pass his class with an A if I have any hope getting into a college I want. I’m deep in thought when Don steps in my room.
“What did you say to him?” he demands.
I arch a brow at him. “That you’re a creep,” I taunt, loving the way his eyes flare with fury. “That you watch me in the shower.” I laugh cruelly at him. “Sick pervert.”
It’s a lie, but I want him to know I’m not some weak girl who will take his gross advances. Too many girls and boys in the system have been taken advantage of by adults and older kids. I’ll be damned if this guy thinks he can do the same to me.
“Liar,” he snarls. “You’re such a liar. If that were true, he wouldn’t have left here without so much as a word.” His eyes narrow. “But he looked unsettled, which means you said something to him. I don’t like it. I won’t have some skanky girl trying to fuck up my world because she wants to screw her caseworker.”
“Fuck you,” I hiss out at him, careful to keep my voice low so that the kids don’t hear.
Lightning quick, he pounces on me. The back of his hand strikes me across the side of my face, sending me tumbling onto the bed. I jerk my gaze his way and hold my palm to the now-throbbing pain on my cheek.
“You hit me,” I accuse, my eyes turning watery and my lip wobbling.
His stare falls to my bare legs and he licks his lips. “You fell.”
“Leave me alone.” My words are firm and fierce but the delivery falls flat due to the quiver in my voice.
“You don’t make up stories that aren’t true to tattle to Mr. Hero Man. Got it?”
When I don’t say anything, he nods his head toward the door. “Cora,” he calls out, his eyes still on mine. Threatening.
“I got it,” I bark out. “I won’t say anything because nothing happened.”
He smiles at me, a mouth full of yellow teeth. I can’t help but shudder. “Good girl.”
Cora toddles in the room and runs past him, straight into my arms. My heart hammers in my chest. I felt his unspoken threat. If I mess with him, he’ll mess with me through her. I’d die before I let that happen.
I wake from a nap with Cora to the sounds of Don and Barb yelling from downstairs. They’re calling for us. Maybe we get to leave. With a little too much excitement, I throw on some jeans and shoes before scooping up a sleepy-eyed Cora and heading downstairs. The boys are all waiting there, huddled together as though they have safety in numbers. I’m thankful Malachi is here to look after the other two boys. He’s much younger than me but has a good head on him. It’s amazing how fast you have to grow up when you’re responsible for younger kids.
“’Nana,” Cora whines, her hand twisting wildly in my hair.
“I’ll see if I can get you a banana later,” I promise. I’ll try, even if I have to walk my butt down to the store and steal one.
“Children,” Barb barks, making Cora jump.
I hug her tight to me and pat her back. She’s been on antibiotics for a few days, but still isn’t one hundred percent herself.
“Your caseworker is on his way for a house check. I want you all on your best behavior,” Don explains, his eyes boring a hole straight into me. “We don’t need you all telling them any fibs.”
Everyone nods, myself included.
He opens his mouth to speak again when someone knocks. Barb opens the door to Lorenzo and Seth. Both wear matching grim expressions.
“You may go to your rooms now,” Barb says coolly.
“Cora would like a banana,” I bite back, pinning her with a challenging stare.
“’Nana,” Cora agrees softly.
“I’m hungry too,” Joseph whines.
Lorenzo nods and points toward the kitchen. “We can start in the kitchen.”
Barb shoots me a scathing glare but I ignore her to walk beside Lorenzo.
“You okay?” he whispers along the way.
My throat is tight with emotion. All I can do is shrug and look away from his probing hazel eyes. I sit with Cora in my lap at the kitchen table and watch with smug satisfaction as Barb and Don explain why there are locks on the refrigerator and pantry door. While Cora happily scarfs down a banana, I notice Lorenzo’s brows deepen with every passing minute and he does a lot of scribbling on his clipboard.
This may not be dire as he calls it, but it’s not right. I hope whoever the powers that be are agree with me and get us the hell out of here.
They’re here for hours. I end up putting Cora to bed and sit near my window to try and focus on my book. Eventually, Lorenzo comes up to interview me. I can hear Seth talking to the boys across the hall.
“Can you close the door?” I plead. The last thing I want is Don overhearing.
He nods and then sits on my bed. His chocolate curls are a mess on top of his head, like he’s been spending his time running his fingers through them over and over again. It makes me want to smooth them out for him. My fingers twitch to do just that. Instead, I fist my hands and wait for him to speak.
“What happened between this morning and now?” he asks, his voice soft and concerned.
I blink back tears. “Nothing dire.”
He rolls his eyes and for a moment, it makes him seem so young. “Don’t be like that, Jenna. I’m trying to help.” He lets out a sigh and puts his clipboard down on the night stand. “Talk to me.”
“Mr. Tauber,” I start, absently rubbing my sore cheek.
“Enzo.”
Our eyes meet and warmth swims in his gaze.
“Enzo,” I amend, loving the way his shortened name rolls off my tongue. “I hate it here.”
“You hate all the places.”
A tear races down my cheek. “I just don’t want anything to happen to Cora.” The reminder of how Don looked at her earlier sends a chill of dread racing down my spine. I shudder and choke out a sob.
“Hey,” Enzo rumbles. “Hey. Come here.”
I fall into his embrace, desperate to not feel so alone in this world. I’m not one for letting people in. Cora is the only person I’ve truly loved, but it’s nice that Enzo is trying to help. And not in the same way Katrina helped. With Enzo, he cares more than he’s supposed to. I like that about him. I need someone to care about me. More than some obligation, but because they want to.
“Talk to me,” he urges, his voice soft. He doesn’t let me go but instead holds me tight, like I might break apart at any moment.
The words tumble from my lips. All the things I’d wanted to say to him earlier about Don. How he’s a creep lying in wait. Then, how he hit me.
As soon as I tell him, he pulls away to look at my face. His hazel eyes search my flesh, anger glinting in them. When he gently grips my jaw to turn my head to the side, my skin heats and butterflies dance in my stomach. I know he’s inspecting me for injury, but it feels so intimate. I welcome his sweet touch.
“Here?” His voice is hoarse and strained as he runs his thumb along the bruised flesh.
“Yeah.”
“There’s no bruise but it’s red.” He closes his eyes for a moment and his jaw clenches. “I’m sorry, Jenna.”
More hot tears leak down my cheeks. I’m once again pulled into his embrace. He smells good and feels strong. Someone like him could keep all these creeps away. The thought is alarming but not unwanted. I don’t want to put hope in another person to save me, but for once, I don’t get a choice. It’s just there. Hope bubbling all over the place.
After some time, he lets out a heavy sigh. “I have to leave.”
Dejected, I pull away and hastily swipe away my tears. I don’t break often, but lately, it’s all I’ve been doing. Freedom is so close I can taste it, which makes all the rest of this so much more frustrating. “I know.”
“I’m working on it. I promise. Just…” He frowns and looks away. “Just don’t drown until I can throw you a lifebuoy.”
“No more ‘hang in there’?” I ask, a smile tugging at my lips.
He smirks. “I’m not sure I can trust you not to hang Donnie Boy in there if I toss you a rope instead.”
“Thank you, Enzo.”
He reaches forward and gently touches my sore cheek. “I want nothing more than to make sure you’re safe and provided for.” Our eyes meet, and then he drops his hand away before leaving without another word.
I stare at the closed door long after he’s gone, praying that he’s true to his word.
Christmas Eve
Today, I made a decision. An unethical one. I bought her a phone. But I need a way to make sure she’s okay. Leaving those kids last night, especially the always-strong-but-severely-broken Jenna, was the hardest damn thing I’ve ever had to do. I’m too attached.
As I drive to the Friedmans’ to meet my friend Nick, and another attorney, Dane, I call Mom. She answers on the first ring.
“Hey, baby boy,” she greets, and then yells at my dad, telling him he’s cutting the ham all wrong.
I smile because my parents bicker all the time. All the time. But it’s almost like it’s a game to them—something they play—because the love is always shining in their eyes. I remember being nine years old, in the back of their station wagon, flinching when they were arguing over where they’d take me for my first dinner. Mom wanted steak. Dad argued kids like Showbiz Pizza better because of the games. My new brother Elijah sided with Dad. I’d sat tense as hell, waiting for him to strike my new mom. Instead, she laughed as she conceded and then told everyone they owed her a fancy steak dinner. It took some getting used to but the playful banter was all it was. Playful. Silly arguments over nothing. I learned to not take life so seriously and began to relax.
“Hey, Mom.”
“When are you getting here?”
I let out a heavy sigh. “Unofficial home check. I’ll come over later when I finish up. Tell Eli not to eat all the damn ham before I get there.”
She cackles. “You know I can’t promise such a thing. That boy eats like his father.”
We chat about plans for tomorrow and the weather and other unimportant shit, but it calms me. Mom has always calmed me when I’m upset. I may not be her blood, but she has that mom intuition down pat.
“You going to tell me what’s up, Enzo?”
I let out a heavy sigh. “Do you ever feel helpless? Like you wish you could do more but you just can’t?”
The sounds from my brother and dad disappear as Mom goes somewhere quiet. All amusement is gone. “Sometimes, son, yes.”
“I just wish…” I groan and run my fingers through my hair that is still wet from snowflakes from when I got into my car. “I just wish I could fix their situation. The kids just want happiness.”
“One kid in particular?” she asks, once again always knowing exactly what’s going on inside my head.
“She breaks my heart,” I admit.
“I know what you mean,” she murmurs. “All you can do is your best. What you’re capable of. You’re not a superhero. No one is. You help the kids—the girl—as best as you can. Will it be enough? Probably not. But the fact that you try is enough.”
We’re quiet for a moment and then I ask the question I’ve always wondered. “Why did you choose me? There were two of us who desperately needed help. You chose only me, Mom.”
What about Logan?
Logan has been sitting in the state penitentiary for twenty years, and I can’t help but think if she’d have chosen us both, maybe he’d have taken a different path. One that didn’t involve violence.
“Oh, sweetie,” she says sadly. “Your father and I talked a lot about you two boys. We could have handled another child, but something wasn’t right. I could just feel it. Giving him a home and family were not going to simply fix him. Your father and I weren’t equipped to deal with a child like Logan. We both knew it. As sad as it was to tear you two apart, it was the only thing we could do.”
My jaw clenches as I think about Logan. He was my foster brother when we were kids. Like Jenna and Cora, we bounced together as though we were blood-related. Logan was always disturbed. His eyes were always cold. Always. The only times they showed warmth were for me. He got in a lot of fights with both kids and adults. When we were both nine, right before I was adopted out, he was already smoking pot and stealing liquor, where I barely even knew what that stuff was.
