Page 31 of The Other Side of Green

The clack of heels pulled my attention up from my cell and I groaned inwardly. It must have shown on my face ‘cause Raven Smoake stretched her smile further. Her braids, millions of the things, clacked with her heels; haunted castanets with a life of their own. Her assets pushed up and proud, straining against the buttons of her white blouse.

“Lyra!” Her smiled stretched in monstrous shades of ruby red as she tottered closer, her skirt barely containing the ass her momma gave her. She had some booty and she knew how to use it.

I tugged on the edge of my shorts.

Before I could school my face into any of the various expressions I reserved for awkward-as-fuck small talk, she pulled me like a rigged bit of cardboard into an engulfing hug as she air kissed me, assaulting my cheeks with the giant hoops hanging from her ears.

“How are you?” She pushed me back, hands still firmly on my arms. “Luca is so worried about you.”

“I’m fine,” I mumbled, trying to free myself from her stare. “Thanks.” I added, purely so Grams wouldn’t be shouting at me wherever she was. “Luca said he’d picked you back up again.” I kept my tone light, and she shrilled a laugh, dropping her head back to look at the sky like she was begging God for some divine intervention.

“Honey, you better believe, he never dropped me in the first place.”

I refused to laugh. Raven had been dropped by just about every man she’d ever hooked up with. I had no idea what Luca was doing back with her, but I considered investigating whether he needed a lobotomy.

“You know, it’s such a shame about Grams passing. You must have hated to leave college?” Her ebony eyes glinted.

“Well, she’s my Grams. Of course I’d be here.”

“And how was it going? Did you steal the show like you’ve always done?” Her face, one of a poisonous angel, curved with a sour smile. I’d seen the look a hundred times before.

Right about my thirteenth birthday when all the girls I knew hormones told them they had to chase my brother and Jack. Jack... So, both my brothers then. My stomach turned.

“There’s a lot of talented people there.” Like Alex... who deserved my scholarship. Not that I’d have one anymore.

“You know it’s funny, I saw in the news while I was getting ready for work about a race row at a college. Now what was the college called…?” She tugged on her earring, big enough to almost fit her hand through. “Ber... Berklee?” Her voice went up in innocent question. “Isn’t that where you had your scholarship? I seem to remember Grams telling me a hundred and five times.”

How had she seen that on the news?

Oh. God.

Evan hadn’t said it was national coverage. Or maybe I’d assumed.

Oh. God.

Now everyone knew I was a fake and didn’t earn my place at college.

It hammered home as the final nail in coffin of my self-resolve. Somehow, I pulled up straight. “Where are you working now, Raven? Luca didn’t mention it.”

“Martels.” She nodded her head towards the direction of the small department store that sat in an uneasy position between the good part of the city and our end of town. “You know, I think they’ve got positions in the housekeeping team. Would you like me to put a good word in for you?”

My smile tightened. “No, thank you, although that’s a very generous offer.”

She laughed. “Got to dash, family dinner tonight, yes? Luca and I’d love to eat with you?”

“I...” I had nothing else to add. She waved her fingers and then negotiated her swaying ass in the direction of Martels.

I sure as hell wouldn’t be having dinner with them.

Then with a sinking heart I realized I’d probably have to, because really, I didn’t have anything else to do.

I carried on toward Patience’s green painted house. Immaculate, it shone like a new penny in the morning sun, a shiny penny surrounded by the tarnished coins of the rest of the money in the wallet.

Jumping up the steps to the small porch, I knocked on the door. I could hear her shuffling on the other side and it made my throat tighten. I closed my eyes to the realization I wouldn’t hear Grams do that again. I’d never hear her slow walk into the kitchen, the careful thud of her walking stick against the linoleum. The rustle of her dress.

“Lyra? You’re early.”

I opened my eyes and painted on a smile.