Page 53 of Tiny's Testament
“Heart hazard,” Trixie singsongs. “Men like that leave pieces of themselves on the road. Women like us pick ‘em up and try not to bleed.” It should land like a joke, but doesn’t.
Tiny’s with Trigger now, heads bent over Red’s tablet as a heat shimmer blurs the far fence. Dagger’s pretending not to stare at Ms. Emerson, who is deliberately not staring back. Bones is teaching Nina how to flip a burger without losing fingers. Jez steals bites and blames Derange. Laughter rides the heat like wind.
“Go join him,” Honey nudges. “Or he’ll think you’re waiting for him to pick the moment.”
I straighten my shoulders. “Maybe I am.”
“Or maybe you’re braver than that,” she says, then winks and flits off to referee Gigi and Trixie arguing about glitter sunscreen.
As I cross to Tiny, Trigger peels away, leaving us in a small wedge of shade.
“You good?” I ask.
His jaw flexes once. “Could be better.”
“Vague,” I tease softly.
He starts to smile, then stops. “You know how Red gets when pieces don’t line up. We’ll figure it out.” He tips my chin with a knuckle, quick, almost apologetic. “You ate?”
“Yup. Bones made me. Threatened to cry if I didn’t.”
“That man has no tear ducts,” Tiny says, the ghost of a grin finally landing. “I checked.”
“Gross.”
“Accurate.” I’m about to say,come sit with me, be tired next to me,when a shadow spills over my shoes.
Perfume like sugared knives invades my nose. Pearl. Red lipstick lined to look like a weapon. She smiles a too bright smile at Tiny first, then drifts her gaze to me like she’s deciding whether I’m furniture or fire.
“Cute event,” she purrs. “Very… rehabilitative.”
“Kids look great,” I say, not giving her more than that.
Tiny’s polite to a fault. “Pearl.”
She tucks her hair behind her ear, lets her nails flash. “Prez know you’re rolling out the kindergarten-safe brand today? I’d have worn flats.”
“Prez asked us to be here,” Tiny says, voice even. Which is brother-speak forwalk away while I still have patience.
Pearl’s eyes gleam. She leans toward me like we’re girlfriends swapping secrets. “You must be so proud. Coming back from everything. Like a miracle.”
My spine goes ice. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what? Celebrate you?” She laughs, syrup and smoke. “You know what I love most about miracles? They always have fine print.”
Tiny shifts. “Enough.”
“Relax.” Pearl holds her hands up. “I’m being supportive.” Then quieter, just for me. “Funny how fast some men forgive when the right person does the crying.” She tips her chin at Tiny. “Some loyalties die hard.”
“Pearl.” Tiny’s voice drops a note. Warning.
She smiles the way snakes do. “Ask him about the Hounds.” Then she’s gone, hips swinging, leaving the scent of trouble behind.
The world blurs at the edges. The heat, the music, the squeal of kids chasing bubbles. Everything feels too distant, as if someone turned the volume down on joy.
“Hounds?” I force the word out.
Tiny’s shoulders go still. “Something I buried.”
