Page 198 of The Coldest: Stay Dangerous Part 2

“Mmmhm. So you back with him? He still a menace to society?”

“No… he’s… everything.”

I open my eyes to find her frozen, wig band in hand. She ties it tightly and leans back on her station.

“Your sister asked me who my therapist is.”

“Good. She needs a good one, and yours is one of the best.”

“You are a cheeky lil’ bitch, huh?” I think she’s arching a brow, but again, whoever did her face snatched her right on up.

“Why are you here, Wynter? You’ve been back in the city for almost a year now, and ain’t showed your face or gave an apology for the last time you showed your fuckin’ ass in here. So what is it? What you need besides that tired lace glued down to that big ass forehead?”

My fingers fiddle with the straps of my purse, but I hold her exasperated gaze. “I finished my debut album. I named it Wynter Solstice, and it’s coming out December twenty-first. I’m finalizing the tracks today. I, uh, did it, Frankie. And I wanted you to know that the chance you took on me, on us, all those years ago, it amounted to something. You never held the shit my mom said or did against us; shit, you never held what I said or did against me, until you had to. You’ve always been the mother I wish I had, and I wanted you to know your daughter did it. And to… apologize the only way the Doll takes apologies.”

Reaching into my bag, I pull out the envelope of cash and stand. Years ago, back when eight balls and bottles was how I accounted for the days, I tweaked out and fucked up Frankie’s salon. She tried to kick me out because I was wasted, and I showed my complete ass, before going to another stylist. The first wig I got without her was the wig I had on when I was kidnapped, and I’m sure that’s not a coincidence.

I hand her the envelope. She thumbs through the bills before setting it on her station.

“Twenty bands. You don’t need it, but you deserve it.” I shrug, discreetly checking the corners of my eyes. “I shouted you out on one of my songs, too. Track thirteen, if the list is the same. It’s called ‘Pin-up.’”

She snorts, before standing straight. I brace myself for a slap, but she engulfs me in her arms instead.

“I am so proud of you,” she whispers into my ear. I return her hug, breathing choppy air.

At one point, Pops and Frankie were all me and Autumn had. I was always too afraid to let either one completely in, but they still made sure we were okay, as much as I’d let them. Pops taught me about family, but it was Frankie who taught me about grit.

Her luxury salon we’re standing in is proof of her constantly betting on herself and doubling it up.

“Proud enough to take me back as a client?”

Laughter bubbles out of her, and when she pulls back, her usual carefully composed face is gone, leaving all her emotions front and center.

“I think ‘daughter’ is a much better term for this relationship, Ice Princess.”

I don’t stay too long after, promising her an invite to my album release party before she sees me out. But the pep in my step is undeniable, and I need it for my next errand.

All it takes is for a couple of selfies and I’m let into the ICU of West Kenton Memorial Hospital. Thank God I’m not some secret assassin.

Quarter Pint waits for me outside of the doors while I go in. It’s not hard to find who I’m looking for, and I crack the door open and slip inside.

Slime’s eyes track me as I take the empty seat next to his bed. He’s hooked up to all types of shit, his chest bandaged up and covered with blankets. I can’t believe he’s alive, and clearly, no one else can either, since details on his condition are hush-hush.

“Can you understand me?” I ask. “Blink once for yes.”

He blinks once, and I lean back in my chair.

“I’m glad you’re alive… I’m not here for any revenge, though I still can’t believe you of all people tried to run me off the road after Reem’s wedding! Of course, I’ve been so preoccupied with trying to stay sober and my album, I didn’t even think you would be this mad about Mars! Not enough to kill… Gio, you’ve been a naughty boy.” I take out a piece of gum from my purse and push it into my mouth.

“G must be in the cafeteria or something.”

“Nah, I’m right here,” he croaks, and sure enough, G shuffles his short ass in, posting up in the corner of the room.

“You are literally a chef and owner of the best restaurant in the city. There’s no reason you should be letting Slime talk you into shooting up a press conference! Both of you are tripping, and if I didn’t know for sure you’ve learned your lessons, I would chew y’all both out!”

Blowing a bubble, I pop it with my tongue before turning back to Slime.

“I racked my brain, wondering what could make you this angry for this long, and I think I figured it out, because I once had the same issue with another Alvarez brother. I need you to hear me good, Slime. You, too, G. Hear me good, and let this shit go.