Walk Through Fire Read online

  This meant she knew about Logan “High” Judd and Shirleen Jackson. Primarily, she knew about their bond.

  “Don’t know how that shit began,” Malik had told her after the good stuff was done, he was mellow, and they had entered the pillow talk stage that Elvira used for more than one purpose on more than one occasion.

  Not that Malik minded. Her man was not stupid. He knew she always had a reason. He also knew she had a certain kind of job. So he filtered as necessary. Which was irritating as hell but it went with the territory when you had the po-po in your bed.

  “Just know they’re tight,” Malik had gone on. “Word was, back when they were both dirty, if Shirleen had a mess she didn’t wanna call Darius in to handle, pile more filth on her nephew than he already had, she’d call Judd. And Judd would do cleanup. She called. He came. Not in a way she had something on him and not in a way they were partners. So I don’t get it. No one ever did. But it happened. She left the life. The Club got clean. And through all that, whatever they had did not die.”

  In other words, although this was a surprise visit, Shirleen being up in High’s business, business that was getting interesting lately, was no surprise.

  “We’re joinin’ forces,” Shirleen announced. “And our first move is Kellie Cliffe.”

  Kellie Cliffe.

  One of Millie’s two besties.

  The one who was up for anything.

  “Joinin’ forces with what?” Elvira asked, not playing dumb… exactly.

  It was just that Tyra had put the kibosh on further maneuvers. After their last play went south, they’d decided they had to bide their time and find the right in to instigate their next one.

  “On reunitin’ a love gone bad,” Shirleen replied.

  “Listen, girl—” Elvira started, leaning across her desk, but she stopped talking when Shirleen’s face changed.

  Elvira could read faces and Shirleen’s face stated loudly that the woman was serious and she was not about to waste any time.

  “High would lose his mind, but he said I could put Brody on it, and I did. He did not say I could put Vance on it, but I did that too,” she shared. “My boys at work, look at ’em, you’d say badass motherfucker. But I know how they are. They’ll go the distance for true love, proved that again and again. Gave Vance what I knew, he ran with it. Boy has his ways and what he learned, High likes it or not on the road he’s gonna be travelin’, I know he’ll like it when he gets to his destination. If I gotta club the man and put him on the train, I’m doin’ it. And the game you and your girls are playin’ that Vance shared with me with that King’s Shelter business, I know you’re with me. So we’re joinin’ forces.”

  Another non-surprise. Vance Crowe was one of Lee Nightingale’s boys. He was good at what he did, finding information and fast with little to no muss and fuss.

  But also, Vance’s wife, Jules, was a social worker who worked at King’s Shelter. So he probably knew, or suspected, before Shirleen asked that Tyra, Lanie, and Elvira were up to something.

  As Elvira thought this, Shirleen kept talking.

  “Vance had a chat with this Kellie girl. She knows the history and it ain’t no surprise she’s all in. So she’s up next. And I got the plan.”

  Elvira studied her and she did this awhile.

  Then she got impatient with doing it, so she said, “Well, lay it on me. Time’s wastin’, girl.”

  Shirleen smiled.

  Then she talked.

  Elvira listened.

  Then she smiled.

  After that, she grabbed her cell.

  She made two calls.

  When she was done, they were all agreed.

  Kellie Cliffe was up next.

  Millie

  Twenty-two years ago…

  I walked by our futon, Logan flat out on it, eyes to the TV, and I smiled down at him when those eyes came to me.

  But I didn’t get by the futon on my way to the kitchen to get a drink.

  I got my hand caught by my man and pulled so I landed on him.

  I stretched out even as I lifted up and looked down at him.

  He was feeling good, I could tell by the mellow look in his eyes. I could also tell by the sweet smell in the air.

  “How you doin’, Snook’ums?” I murmured, and he grinned.

  “Excellent grass,” he murmured back. “And got my girl on me. So it’s all good.” He ran his hand over my ass and tilted his head on the arm of the couch. “Though, she’s got too many clothes on.”

  Stoned sex with Logan.

  That meant he’d take his time. Even hours.

  The best.

  Or the best when I got it but it was always the best when I got it, no matter how it came.

  Unfortunately, even if it was the best, we didn’t have hours.

  “You do remember that Dot and my folks are coming for dinner?” I asked.

  He rolled so I was pressed to the back of the couch and his face was in my neck. “I didn’t forget,” he said into my skin. “Come down by then.”

  “I know you will, Low,” I told him, and I did know because he was careful like that. He never disrespected my parents. It was part of what won them over. I ran my hands up the muscle of his back over his tee and continued, “But we should probably not be having sex on the couch when my parents knock on the door.”

  He lifted his head out of my neck and grinned at me.

  Stoned, not stoned, alert, drowsy, preoccupied, focused, I didn’t care. Whenever Logan grinned at me, I loved it.

  And this was no exception.

  “Babe, it’s just past two,” he informed me.

  “And I’m making a roast,” I informed him.

  “It take four hours to make a roast?” he asked.

  “No, but when you’re in a certain mood, it takes you four hours to get me off.”

  He burst out laughing, his arms convulsing around me so he was squeezing me to his body.

  I watched him do it, smiling and loving that too.

  While he was still chuckling, he moved in, nipping my lower lip before gliding his lips against my jaw to my ear.

  “How ’bout two hours?” he asked there. “Can my girl give me two hours to have fun before she worries about her roast?”

  “I suppose I can give you two hours,” I said on a sigh, faking that it was a hardship when it absolutely wasn’t.

  He lifted his head again and smiled at me.

  His smile faded as he moved in to brush his lips against mine.

  He kept them there and held my gaze as he said, “Smokin’ again and doin’ it while I watch you blow me.”

  Oh God.

  Total turn-on.

  I loved his cock any way I could get it.

  Including that way.

  My legs moved with agitation.

  His eyes started smoldering. “See you like that idea.”

  “Yeah, baby,” I whispered.

  “On the floor between my legs or on the couch…” humor mingled with the heat in his eyes when he finished, “between my legs?”

  I wasn’t feeling in a funny mood.

  I was feeling in the mood to give my man a blowjob while he smoked a joint.

  “What do you want?” I asked.

  At my question, Logan got in my mood.

  I knew this when he growled, “Floor.”

  “Whatever you want, Snooks,” I whispered.

  I gave him those words. Logan gave me a kiss.

  When he ended it, I couldn’t wait to give back and do it going down on him.

  So I didn’t mess around.

  I sucked while he smoked until he set the joint aside and let his head loll on the back of the couch so he could concentrate on what I was doing.

  His head didn’t loll when I stopped sucking, climbed on, and started riding. His attention was all on me.

  We were done in time for me to get the roast in and we had a great time with my family as we always did after they’d realized Logan was it for me and believed i
n it, believed in him and let him in.

  Then, after we ate, played board games and they left, Logan and I had another great time.

  But this time when we did, he took his four hours.

  And another one besides.

  Falling asleep twined up in my man, I thought it was what it always was.

  The best.

  And I slept sound, knowing I had the best, got it early, and also understanding to the heart of me that I would have a lifetime of it, a lifetime of Logan.

  A lifetime of the best.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “Far Behind”

  Millie

  MY PHONE ON my nightstand rang. I opened my eyes, rolled, looked at the clock to see it was six after eleven, then pushed up to look at the display on my phone.

  Kellie.

  This happened, not frequently, but it happened.

  Usually, I ignored it. She held no grudges. She knew me. She knew it was a long shot but she never gave up on wanting me to have a life.

  However, I’d spent the day making sure an anniversary party would go off without a hitch (it did), so I was even less inclined than normal (when I was never inclined) to pick up and do the Kellie thing.

  But I was also committed to living my lie for the ones I loved.

  Logan had walked out two days earlier and he had not come back.

  For my part, since then, I had not faltered in continuing the charade.

  Tomorrow night, Dot, Alan, and the kids were coming over for beef Stroganoff.

  Further, Justine and Veronica were looking for a babysitter so we could plan a night where we could all put on our LBDs, go out, and drink cocktails. Claire was all in for that one, and without a kid or a steady who was truly a steady, she was ready when we were set to roll.

  In other words, full steam ahead on the charade.

  Now it was time to prove to Kellie I’d turned a new leaf and intended to go back to living my life.

  So I snatched up the phone, took the call, and put it to my ear.

  “’Lo, babe,” I greeted, still shaking away sleep.

  “She answers!” Kellie hooted in a shriek in my ear, so I had to pull the phone away an inch. “Right on!” she kept shrieking.

  I put my phone back to my ear and said, “Love you, you know it, but don’t love you phoning me and shouting in my ear in the middle of the night.”

  “Three o’clock in the morning is the middle of the night, Mill. Eleven o’clock is not,” she informed me.

  “Whatever,” I muttered. “Why are you calling?”

  “’Cause there is this kickass band you have to see playing right now at The Roll. They just finished their first set, bitch, and they brought down the house. Get your ass outta bed and get it over here, pronto, or I’m never speakin’ to you again in my life.”

  The last twelve, thirteen years, I’d quit answering Kellie’s late-night calls.

  The years between being with Logan and not answering her calls, I did take her calls but would then engage in a long conversation about how I needed sleep, how I had work the next day, how I was no longer into live music or doing shots or whatever, this taking time and getting frustrating (hence my quitting answering).

  But undoubtedly she’d spoken to Dot and/or Justine, so she’d know about LBDs and beef Stroganoff. She’d hear about Downton Abbey or come over and see my candles lit and me using my wineglasses.

  So in order to prove to her I was living my life at the same time hiding that I was dead inside, I replied, “I’ll be there in an hour.”

  Silence that wasn’t silence, exactly, since I heard the crowd in the background as well as the music they were playing between the live sets.

  Then I heard, “Say again?”

  I threw back the covers and reached for my light. “Give me an hour and I’ll see you there.”

  I had to take the phone away from my ear again when she screeched, “Right on!”

  That made me grin and grinning made me realize I was doing the right thing because no matter how I felt down deep, I was giving the people I loved what they needed.

  I should have done it a long time ago.

  It was too late for that now but better late than never.

  And anyway, I did like live music and it had been ages since I’d seen a band play.

  Not to mention, my little black dress was killer. So I was also going to be sure to find some time to go out with Justine and Veronica. They needed excuses to pretty up and remember why they fell in love in the first place, that being they were both hot, funny, got a kick out of each other, and post-baby that Justine carried, they were still way into each other.

  Last, I had decided I was totally getting cats. I had it all, lost it all, and knew I’d never get it back. But lonely was lonely and lonely sucked, so I was going to cut the lonely with kitties.

  I pushed up from bed and headed to the bathroom, ordering, “Now, hang up so I can slap some makeup on and head out.”

  “You got it, bitch. Get that ass in gear. See you soon! Yee ha!” Kellie cried before I heard her disconnect.

  I got my ass in gear and started going through the motions.

  When I got a look at myself in the bathroom mirror, I saw that I’d not been in bed long enough for my hair to go wonky, so that was good. Therefore, I slapped on a fair amount of makeup because good rock ’n’ roll demanded sacrifice and it had been a while but I knew the depletion of your makeup collection was an acceptable offering.

  I no longer had rock ’n’ roll clothes but I did my best, throwing on a pair of faded jeans, high-heeled booties, a thick belt, and a thin mulberry sweater that looked torn up and misshapen but it did this with intent, clinging in the right places, flowing and keeping you guessing in better places.

  I wrapped a narrow rock ’n’ roll (ish) scarf around my neck and stuck long, silver hoops in my ears, piling on the rings and jingling bracelets before shoving lip gloss and wallet into an envelope clutch, grabbing my suede jacket, and heading out.

  I hit The Roll, a place that was half bar, half club and had live music on the weekends and some weeknights (this being the club part) but mostly it was a watering hole that I’d heard was a hip place (via Kellie). Therefore, I knew where it was, but it had started up after Logan and I were over, so I’d never been there.

  And I hit it not liking what I saw, considering the parking lot was jammed and there was a line out the door.

  I parked on the street two blocks away, got out, and started toward the bar even knowing this effort to convince Kellie I was moving out of years of grieving a life gone bad was going to fail. I’d have to pick another night to do that because no way was I standing out in the cold in a line by myself for God knew how long in order to have a few drinks and listen to music.

  And as I walked toward the bar, I had my phone to my ear to tell Kellie precisely that.

  This decision took a hit when she answered and I heard the unmistakable truth that the band was back onstage and they were rocking it even through a cell phone.

  “Yo!” she shouted.

  “Babe, there’s a line,” I told her. “It’s cold and the line’s long. I probably wouldn’t get in until the final set and no way I’m standing outside for hours for that.”

  “Leave it to me. Just go to the door,” she replied on another shout.

  “Kellie—” I started, but I was talking to dead air. She was gone. “Fuck,” I hissed, deciding the next time she called that I’d prove my new leaf by ignoring the call, phoning her the next day, and having her over for Stroganoff or some other brilliant meal I taught myself how to make.

  I then hoofed it to the door, knowing no way with this crowd they were going to let in a forty-one-year-old woman who might have good hair, a great suede jacket, and fabulous high-heeled booties because she was still forty-one and no one in line looked over twenty-three.

  However, when I got to the door, the bouncer gave me a top to toe, grinned, and then turned to look behind him when he heard shouted, “
She’s with me!”

  Kellie was head and shoulders out the door. The bouncer nodded to her, turned to me, lifted a hand, and did a “get your ass in there” gesture to which someone at the head of the line groused, “Seriously, dude? Been standing out here an hour. What the fuck?”

  I ignored the discontent coming from the line, muttered, “Thanks,” to the bouncer as I moved swiftly past him, got a, “No problem, sweetheart,” which was nice but probably had more to do with Kellie being a regular than me having good hair (or a great jacket). But I still turned my head and gave him a smile.

  He gave me a wink.

  He couldn’t be more than thirty-two, so that felt nice.

  I let it feel nice, then let it go and moved to Kellie.

  “This’ll be so worth it,” she declared before I could even say hello, her words strangely heavy with meaning.

  She reached out a hand and nabbed mine as she spoke.

  Before I could reply or figure out the weight of her words, she tugged me inside, the door closing the cold behind us, leaving us in the warm that wasn’t just the inside of a building but the inside of a bar heaving with people.

  And this was when I realized my mistake.

  I’d gone cold turkey on life when I’d ended things with Logan, so I hadn’t been to a place like this since then, except my brief visit to Scruff’s a few weeks earlier.

  That didn’t count.

  This was it.

  This was where it was at.

  This was one of a bevy of things back in the day that filled me up and kept life beautiful.

  The sights. The lights. The people. The sounds. The vibe.

  Electric.

  Alive.

  Not me.

  So, so not me.

  Not anymore.

  I was there, feeling it, immune to it and missing it all at the same time, the last like an ache because when I’d had it, I’d had it with Logan.

  Yes.

  Big mistake.

  Huge.

  I had to get out of here.

  I couldn’t go.

  Dragging me with her, Kellie wended her way expertly through the crowd to a table back in the jumble around a stage where music was blasting.