Desire & Blood - The Thorne Siblings

39. Motörhead

My hands trembled with urgency as I took off the doctor's coat and dressed in the clothes my mother had returned with—a black skirt and a matching shirt.

"You also need this." She offered me a pea-green handbag. "It's got some money in it."

"Er..." I was reluctant to take her money; she never had enough.

She pushed the bag into my hands. "It's not much. But I want you to have it."

There was no time to argue, and some money might be helpful, too. "Okay, but I'll pay you back."

"Fine."

There was something else I needed from her, though. "Mom... Can I have your phone for today? I'm expecting an important call." I held up the device.

"Sure. And you'll need a pair of shoes." She moved to a cluster of bags at the back of the room and started rummaging through them.

I went to the door, opened it, and peeked out into the staircase. It was quiet.

I had to get out of here right now.

"Here you are." My mother handed me two neon-green pseudo running shoes.

A noise from downstairs disrupted the silence of the house—someone had opened the main entrance.

"Shit," I whispered, "they're here."

"Go upstairs, hide." She gestured to the floor above us. "I'll invite them in, then you get out."

I nodded. "Okay... and thanks, mom."

"Sure. You just take care."

Clasping my new shoes and handbag, I tiptoed to the second floor, hid behind a spray-paint-decor concrete banister, and listened.

"This is it." A woman's voice.

"Okay, let's try." A man.

My mother's doorbell gave a long ring.

I peeked over the banister. Two police officers in uniform stood at my mother's apartment.

The door opened, and she appeared, holding a clothing iron in one hand. "Er... yes?"

"Missus Anderson?" the woman said.

Mom nodded. "That's me."

"Municipal police," the officer said. "We're looking for your daughter. Do you know where she is?"

"My daughter?" My mother scratched her bald head. "Let's see. I know where she hangs out, usually..."

No, she didn't.

"I can give you the details. Come in, officers." She motioned her visitors to enter, waving her iron at them. "Please excuse the mess here. I'm rearranging my stuff... need to throw some of it out."

The man and the woman entered.

"Do you care for some coffee? And I think I've got a bag of doughnuts somewhere around—"

The door banged shut.

My mom watched too much crime TV.

Grinning, I slipped into the shoes, ran down the stairs, and took the back door.

~~~

The Big Bad Burger Bar was on the grimy side of things, but its promise of cheap carbohydrates had drawn me in. I sat at the bar-like table that ran along its windows and looked out onto 7th avenue. Bland, jazzy background music drizzled from the speakers and mingled with the scent of cooking oil past its prime.