Motown Breakdown (Motown Down #4) (6 page)

Charging out, I slam her piece of shit door behind me and head home. My home.

I was never copping to the breakdown I had following Crews’ departure.

Men think women are too sensitive about their appearance. Men would be wrong. He was very sensitive about his looks but when I said I regretted it, his face wasn’t what I meant. I regretted it because I wanted more. I wanted more of something that wasn’t mine to have. He was the first man I kissed by choice since I was seventeen. He wasn’t forced on me, I wasn’t coerced into doing it, it wasn’t business. I was attracted and acted on it then immediately knew I shouldn’t have. He’d been drunk and had he been sober he’d likely have tossed me off his lap.

So getting it out there now worked out for the best. The second he mentioned throwing me over for his Evie, I realized investing myself in him was futile. I would never be her; at best I’d be a distraction. The truth was, I would never be more than what I was right now.

An angle, and we both knew it.

Threatening to narc me out to my family was a dick move, but I, more than most, understood lashing out. Honestly, if someone I loved was missing I wouldn’t be handling it nearly as well as he was. I also wouldn’t have agreed to my terms either. Considering it was Marco responsible and I was choosing my freedom over helping too soon, I was shocked he let me near his mouth at all. After spraying my apartment, folding the blanket, washing the glass, and fluffing the cushions, thereby eliminating any trace of him ever there, I locked up on my way out.

Hitting the steps, I hop in my car and head toward the shelter. Three days a week I visit with the girls who are either homeless, working the streets, or caught up in the cycle of abuse and looking for an out. I call this dangerous time the
in between
. If I could save even one girl from falling victim to the skin game; it was worth the beating I’d receive for doing it. And I would, be beaten that is. Which again is the whole point of not hiding it. If Marco was fixated on me, he wasn’t watching Shade. 

What Crews didn’t know is some girls
chose
that life. Having no other options; they seek men like Marco out. Word travels fast on the streets. That there are men who can show you the glamorous side of life. Fancy parties, nice clothes and privilege. For the small price of their soul, they are promised the world, which some get but most don’t. It all depends on how she looks, presents herself and the big one: would anyone miss her? If there’s even a chance she’ll be missed, she’s still sold, just outside of the U.S. But there have been a few that made a life for themselves and are actually happy. They are the minority,
not
the majority. 

When I was fully chained to my new reality, I never wanted to be sitting in that room forced to watch one of
these
girls walk in. So I told them what to look for, what to avoid and how to stay the hell off the radar. I wasn’t above using scare tactics either. The secrets I shared weren’t glamorous, they were the truth. Marco had men who served one purpose only: scouting for talent. They were attractive men, enticing to all women and very good at what they did. Marco’s boys
never
came back empty handed. So on the last Friday of each month, auctions were held just a few short miles from this very shelter. I silently prayed they listened to me today because there is no doubt if Marco isn’t stopped soon, I would be attending the next one. Saying my goodbyes, I walked casually and publicly to my car. I did so in a manner that said, the world is mine and I’m not hiding from it or from Marco. I had every faith at least one of his men saw me and after grabbing a mocha-lotta-goodness, I pulled into my lot ready to chill at home before work. Crews’ truck wasn’t here and I refused to admit I was looking for him or, that it depressed me he took my words to heart. It was rare I told the truth and I was a bit disappointed that Crews couldn’t tell the difference.

Opening up the main door careful not to spill, I wasn’t expecting to be thrown into the brick wall or I would have held on tighter to my four dollar coffee. But I was thrown into it by none other than Marco himself. “Do you enjoy punishment?” he screams in my face. Silence in these situations was always the safest course for me. When I opened my mouth the wrong words usually escaped it. Ignoring the sting the coffee left behind on my skin, I look down at my feet instead of at his face. I learned
that
lesson years ago. “Every day you play this game; I am one step closer to selling you myself! A man can only take so much Luna! I will only ask once, how long have you been going to that shelter?”

Let it be said I was scared of two things: Ingrown hairs and Marco’s right hook. Backhanding me, he asks me again, “How long, Luna?”

“Two months,” Okay, so it was eight.

“Do they know about us?”

“No,” Yes, in detail.

“Is that the truth?”

“Yes,” Fuck no.

Smacking me again, he wraps a fist into my hair while he proceeds to drag me up the steps before throwing me into my own door.
I met it face first then bounced off of it hitting the floor. “I made a promise to your mother,” he says kneeling down beside me. “To love you, raise you and protect you. She would be ashamed to see what you’ve become.” Curling into a ball, I do my best to stay hidden in plain sight and above all, quiet. “Two weeks,” he says standing. “You’ll be healed up by then. Do not think for a second I don’t know what’s going on.  I don’t give a fuck about this war or your fucking freedom. Convince him to bring you home,” he says punting me in the stomach for good measure. “Because if I have to come to you again, y
ou won’t survive it and neither will your future husband.”

Once he cleared the steps, I sucked in a small breath trying to get to my knees to call Shade. When that failed, I said fuck it and closed my eyes hoping the pain would pass.
So much for helping Crews
was my last thought before I passed out.
 

Work was
unbearably slow due to materials not showing up. Taking advantage of the downtime, I dropped my truck off for brakes and maintenance. Once I was home, sitting there wasn’t shaking this nervous energy so I grabbed my bike and went back to the apartment. Catching her as she was leaving was luck, but her parking behind a shelter left me waiting outside. An hour later, she came out again then hit the coffee shop. Careful not to be seen, when I realize she’s going home, I hang back. Parking down the street, I see her head up the walk ready to go in. When she’s intercepted I watch Marco yell in her face before slapping her coffee away and backhanding her. Staying put wasn’t easy but getting involved now wouldn’t get Evie back. So I was stuck watching him drag her inside the building while I stayed out here.  A few minutes more go by when Marco Bella exits the building wiping his hands on his jacket. Hands that were no doubt used to hurt his own daughter. When a sedan turns the corner to pick him up, I pretend to be interested in a car I don’t own.

When the sedan drives off, I haul ass up the steps to find Luna crumpled in a ball, passed out. Moving her hair away it’s obvious he more than backhanded her. Her cheeks were bright red with blood coming from her nose and mouth. I tried several times to wake her with no response. Lifting her up, she moans holding her stomach. Keeping her to me, I fish my keys out bringing her into my place. Rushing her to the bedroom, I lay her down then run to get rags to wipe the blood from her face.

As I cleaned her she didn’t move a muscle. Taking the opportunity to see why she favored her side, I slowly peel her shirt off and see Marco’s footprint embedded in her soft skin. I’ve seen a lot of shit over the years but nothing like this. Her father beat her. Her own fucking father. If he treated his own daughter like this, what did that mean for someone weak like Evie? How often has she endured this kind of treatment? Is this what she meant when she said punishment? How in the fuck did I leave her to that and not step in? Logically, I reasoned it was for Evie, but I didn’t have Evie right now, likely never would either. I was a fucking coward was all I could come up with and I was ashamed of myself. Marco had been up here, alone and I did nothing. I had a shot and didn’t take it and while I stood outside, she took a serious fucking beating. Without Luna, I’d never get to Evie and that’s if she can pull it off. If what I witnessed was anything to go by, I wasn’t feeling too good about her chances. Because by choosing to save one, I sacrificed the other…

It was close to midnight when I really started to worry. Luna hadn’t moved for almost nine hours. Kneeling on the bed, I lean down to listen for her heartbeat when she inhaled deep and came up swinging. Caught off guard by the ferocity she displayed she landed a few shots before I could calm her down.

“It’s me,” grabbing her from the back and holding her still. “It’s Crews, you’re safe, mama.”

When she stilled, I released her so I could move to face her. “Look at me,” I urge her. “Please, mama.” Raising her head to look at me, my fucking breath caught. In that moment, she was literally the face of abuse and my heart broke. Moving off the bed, she stumbles trying to stand. “Let me – ” I try before she orders me away.

“Don’t,” she whispers. “Don’t touch me.”

Following her into the hallway, she says nothing while I watch her struggle to get inside her place. No fucking chance I was letting her be alone right now. Before she could lock up, I push in and guide her to her own bed. “Please go,” she whispers covering herself up.

“I took your shirt off,” I tell her climbing in. “You were holding your side.”

Turning away, she curls back up but I couldn’t let her. “Your father did this to you. Why?”

“He is
not
my father,” she growls and the look on her face spoke of vengeance and helplessness. “It’s my fucking job, alright? And he did it because he could. As is his
right
.”

“Mama…”

“Stop calling me that! I am not your
mama
I am your golden ticket!”

“Why did he put his hands on you?” I ask coming over top of her and caging her with my arms. “Tell me why.”

“Because I don’t listen,” she says pursing her lips. “Because I don’t appreciate. Because I don’t belong. Because I’m not like him. Because I’m not my mother.”

“Why is it his right?”

“I’m property, Crews,” she says with no emotion. “Marco owns me now; Shade will own me later. So until Shade owns me fully, it’s his right to discipline me however he chooses.”

“But they sent you here,” I point out. “Until you marry Shade, Marco can beat you whenever he feels like it?”

“Nailed it.”

“Then why not marry the guy now? Spare yourself?”

“Because I know what being beaten feels like,” she says absently. “Right now, I’m sticking with what I know.”

“Marco won’t help you with Evie will he?” Laying it out there seemed wise.

“Marco was never going to be the one who helped
you
with your precious Evie,” she says struggling to get out bed. “But thank you for getting me off the floor, you can go now.”

“What the fuck?”

“I just had my fucking face beat in, Crews! Oh look Luna can breathe, let’s lean on her about Evie!”

“What was I supposed to do? Drag him out into the street? Follow him when he left? I came for you instead!”