Page 7 of Hunter or Hunted

Yes, she had. The name change had kept her safe for the last five years.

“He wouldn’t leave me alone. Every time I changed my number, he found it, and he called from a thousand different phones until I changed it again.”

“Because you’re the mother of his child.” Angela narrowed her eyes. “He wanted to see his daughter, Jess. You didn’t have the right to take her.”

Yes, she had. On several occasions, she’d filed for emergency custody, and the judge awarded it each time. The only reason she hadn’t filed for emergency custody that last time was because she got out in such a hurry. Because she would’ve died if she hadn’t.

“I really don’t want to get into this right now.” Legs trembling, Simone took a step back, deeper into the cavern behind the checkout desk. “There’s a lot of history, a lot that you probably don’t know about, and I⁠—”

“I know enough.” Teeth gritted, Angela stepped closer. Just on the other side of the reception counter, Simone could smell the stench of cigarettes wafting from her body. “I know you took my grandbaby. I know my son spiraled when you left. I know shit got so bad, he was getting ready to jump the border when he got the call from Junie. I know he was ready to step up, to be a good father, to be a good man, when he came here to get her. And I know I haven’t spoken to him since.” She propped her forearms on the counter and leaned closer. “But you did. You’re the last person who saw him.”

Simone shook her head, doing her best to square her shoulders. To look calmer, less afraid, than she felt. “Last time I saw him, I shoved him off me, tried to see through the blood in my eyes, and ran to my car like my life depended on it. Because it damn well did, Angela. He would’ve killed me.”

Rolling her eyes, a half-smile twitching up the edges of her lips, Angela snorted. “Don’t I know. Jess, the perpetual victim. You never do anything wrong.”

That trembling in Simone’s hands quickened. The fear that gripped her heart a moment prior—the anxiety of what came next—morphed from a low buzz to a steady roar. Heat gathered in her chest and spread to each of her limbs. She wasn’t clenching her fists to hide their tremble anymore. She was prepared to raise them.

“Yeah, and poor David.” Simone laughed. “He’s just a precious little flower, and the world’s always out to get him. That’s why he needs the dope. It calms him down. Helps him cope. But you know, I’ve never really understood what with. I mean, Mommy was always so nice to him. Always took such great care of him.” Puckering her lower lip, Simone raised her shoulders. “How could someone with such a great mother turn into… that?”

Angela’s shoulders lifted and fell with fast, panting breaths. Her jaw clenched so tight it could cut diamonds. Eyes narrowed to slits, that devilish grin lifted the edges of her lips again. “You sure know a lot about being a mother now, don’t you? Doing it all yourself. I bet you love that little girl more than you love the air in your lungs.” Sliding her forearms across the counter, Angela leaned even closer.

Simone considered stepping back, but that would show she was afraid—one matter she would not concede on again. Not to this bitch. Not today.

“So you’ve got to understand where I’m coming from.” Foamy, milky spit sputtered from Angela’s lips. “If something happened to your little girl, you’d go to the ends of the earth for justice, wouldn’t you?”

“You said it yourself,” Simone snapped. “Shit was so bad, he was ready to jump the border. That’s where he went, Angela.”

“That’s a crock of shit, and we both know it. He would’ve called me.”

“Maybe you’re right.” Crossing her arms against her chest gave Simone the excuse to pull away without looking weak. “Maybe he is going to be a better man. Maybe that’s what he’s doing right now. Looking at his life, pondering all the things that have gone wrong, and finding that you’re at the root of it all. How many times did you enable his addiction, Angela? How many times did you cover for him when the cops said he was a suspect in something awful? How many times did you protect him from taking accountability? Maybe he realized that, to be a better man, he needed a better mother.”

Steam practically wafted from the top of Angela’s head. Her pupils were so big, it was almost impossible to find the brown in her irises, no matter how wide her eyes were. “You better watch your mouth with me, little girl.”

“You better get the hell out and never step foot in here again,” Simone said, teeth clenched. “I asked you to leave once. Make me say it one more time, and the cops are going to be dragging you out of here.”

Teeth still gritted, eyes like those of a snake, her devilish smile returned. “Yeah. Call the cops. Bring them here. Let’s talk about the custody order you violated when you ran with Junie. Let’s talk about the warrants you’ve surely got.”

“Go ahead. Call them.” Simone pointed at the door. “From out there. This is private property, and make me tell you one more time⁠—”

“Yeah, yeah.” Angela raised her hands at her sides, wiggling her fingers. “I’m leaving. But this isn’t going to be the last you see of me. I got a little apartment down the road. Just a couple of blocks from Junie’s school, actually. I’m already talking to a lawyer about the rights I’ve got as a grandparent.” Back against the glass door now, that evil smile only grew. “Just gotta figure out how to file the paperwork. Simone, Jess… who knows? We’ll let the lawyers handle it.”

Simone said nothing. Just stared—or glared—as Angela chuckled quietly to herself and stepped outside.

As soon as her silhouette vanished down the road, Simone ran to the glass door and flipped the lock. The click was like the explosion of a bomb. The moment Simone heard that sound, that clack of safety, she heaved in a gasp.

Grasping the metal handle for stability, the trembling resumed. It wasn’t just in her hands this time. Every finger, every toe, every limb. Even her lips. Quivering, gasping for breath, her legs gave way. Collapsing to the marble beneath, comforted by its cool caress, the sobs began, and they wouldn’t stop.

Vision blurred around the edges, Simone’s throat closed up. It felt that way, at least. Somehow, weeping gasps and cries still weaseled out.

All these years later, and all it took was one conversation.

One conversation, and here she was again. Crumpled in a ball on the ground, gasping for breath that barely came. After all the work she’d done, the progress she’d made, she was eighteen years old again, sobbing, swallowing down bile. Unsure if she should stay in the world she’d worked so hard to build, or run and build a new one.

4

GWEN

When I made it to the salon, I used my key to unlock the door. Simone had given me a spare shortly after opening because I was headed into town, and she realized she had forgotten to turn out the lights. I tried to give it back to her, but she said I would probably need it again one day. Just keep it safe.