Authors: Keith Thomas Walker
Candace dressed in the sweatpants and T-shirt Trisha provided for her. The shirt was pretty close to her size. She combed and styled her hair with real-live cosmetics for the first time in half a month and stepped out of the bathroom looking like her former self. She found Trisha in the kitchen making another Hamburger Helper meal.
“Do you have any shoes?” Candace asked her.
Trisha turned and grinned at her. “You look good! Bet it feels good to have some clean clothes on.”
“It does,” Candace agreed. “Except these.” She held up her badly soiled Keds.
“
Ewww
. I can’t believe you’re touching those. You need to throw them away, Candace. And wash your hands.”
“These are the only shoes I have until I get in my apartment. I need to get my cell phone out of there.”
“You going to talk to the manager?”
“Yeah.”
“What size are those?”
“Seven,” Candace said.
Trisha shook her head. “I wear a nine.”
“Let me try them.”
Trisha looked over her friend’s outfit. Candace wore a plain blue T-shirt with the gray jogging pants.
“I got some white tennis in there, but they’re too big, you’ll see.”
“It’s better than nothing,” Candace said. “Do you have any socks? I feel helpless, asking you for so much stuff.”
“Don’t trip, girl. I know how it goes sometimes. You can stay here for a while if they won’t let you in your apartment.”
For the second time, Candace was taken aback by her friend’s generosity. “For real?”
“Why you looking so shocked? You act like nobody ever helped you out before.”
“I don’t think I ever needed help before,” Candace admitted.
“Well, I got three bedrooms. Willie sleeps in there with me. Petey and Sammy don’t need a room all to theyself.”
“How can you afford a three-bedroom apartment?” Candace asked, but she already knew.
“Section 8, baby. I pay thirty dollars a month.”
* * *
Candace clomped down the stairs in the too-big shoes, but at least she was clean. She smelled good and felt good. And she thought she looked pretty good, too. Now that she was out of jail, she could work on losing her baby weight. She tried while she was locked up, but you’re in bed more than half the day in there.
The manager’s office was at the very front of the complex. Candace cut through the buildings and was wiping sweat from her forehead by the time she got there. Why anyone would chose to live in such a sweltering city was beyond her. Temperatures like this belonged on oven dials.
She walked into the leasing office and was immediately hit with currents from a high-powered air conditioner, but the cool reception didn’t last long. Candace walked up to the first desk she saw and greeted the woman sitting behind it.
“Hi. Can I speak with the manager?”
“I’m the manager,” the woman said. She was a redhead with a fat nose and flabby jowls. She wore a black blouse with white pearls.
“Hi. I’m Candace. I tried to get into my apartment today, and there’s this thing on the doorknob. I can’t open it.”
“That’s because you didn’t pay your rent,” the manager said. She began to shuffle through a pile of files on her desk.
“I did pay my rent.”
The woman gave her an angry look. “What apartment are you in?”
Candace almost didn’t want to say. “Apartment 3216.” The lady’s eyes narrowed. “You the one with the drug bust? You’re with Canales?”
“Yes,” Candace said. “But I didn’t sell any drugs. I—”
“Your door’s locked because the police broke it down
and I had to replace it.” The woman stuck a pudgy finger in Candace’s face. “You can’t go back in there until you pay me for my door. And you have to be out of here by the first.”
“Why do I have to be out by the first?”
“Because we don’t rent to drug dealers.”
“I told you: I’m
not
a drug dealer.”
“Why are you just now coming to see about this?”
“What?”
“Why haven’t you come to see me before? That locks been on your door since the first.”
Candace lowered her head. “I was in jail.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
She met her eyes then. “But I didn’t do anything. They let me go.”
“Listen, I don’t care about that. If you beat your case or whatever happened with you and the police, that’s your problem. All I can tell you is Forest Crest Apartments does not lease to drug dealers.”
“I’m—”
“And we don’t rent to people who get their doors kicked in, either.”
“Fine,” Candace said. “Can I at least get some stuff out of there?”
“No. That lock stays on until you pay for the door.”
“I just want my cell phone.”
“Then pay for the door!”
Candace huffed and puffed but couldn’t blow this bitch down. “Whatever. How much is the door?” After the bus ride and the call home, Candace had forty-two dollars and seventy-five cents left.
“Five hundred and eighty-four dollars—”
“
Five hundred?
”
“
And
eighty-four dollars and sixty-five cents. But if you get five eighty-four, I’ll let you go with the change.”
“All right,” Candace pouted. “So where’s my car?”
“I don’t know. We don’t have anything to do with your car.”
“Well, it’s not where I left it.”
“Maybe it’s stolen.”
Maybe it’s stolen
? Candace wanted to slap the smug sense of satisfaction off her face.
“Who would have stolen it?”
“Have you called the police?” the lady asked, and that didn’t seem like such a bad idea.
“No. I haven’t. May I use your phone?”
“You can use the one in the lobby.”
“Do you have a phone book?”
The manager rolled her eyes, but she produced the directory. Candace took it to the foyer and found the number for the local law enforcement. Butterflies danced in her stomach when the police told her they did have her car. And it wasn’t stolen. Detective Judkins towed it downtown to search it for drugs, but they were done with it now. Candace got directions and called a cab rather than wait for a bus this time. She knew she could get some money when she got her car back.
* * *
Her Nissan was at one of the police substations close to her apartment rather than at the actual jail. There was no charge for picking up her vehicle. They rolled the car out to her with no muss and no fuss, and Candace was as happy as the day Rilla bought it for her. She got behind the wheel and knew everything was finally coming together. There was even half a tank of gas.
Instead of heading home, Candace drove to the south side of town and found the tire shop where Rilla purchased her flashy rims. She watched him pay $1,900 for the wheels less than a year ago, but the owner of the shop only offered Candace $1,000 to buy them back. She agreed to it, under the condition he put four normal wheels on in place of the rims. The grateful shopkeeper took normal to mean
ugly
, but Candace was in a rush to get back so she didn’t haggle.
She took her ten crisp $100 bills and hit the streets a new lady.
Who said I can’t do it on my own? I’m going to show them.
When she got back to the apartments, Candace parked in front of the leasing office and sauntered in like a woman with money in her purse. She stomped up to the manager and dropped six greenbacks on her desk.
“Can you open my apartment now, please?”
The woman’s eyes lit up. “Um, we don’t accept cash.”
But Candace saw the drool. “Lady, you’re making me pay for a door I didn’t even break. And you’re kicking me out for something I didn’t do. I’ve had a real long day. I’m not leaving to get you a money order. Either take the money or you can keep the apartment. I don’t care anymore.”
The landlord scooped the bills up like it was a dice game. “You still have to be out by the first.”
“You still owe me sixteen dollars,” Candace said and smiled. It felt good to be in control.
* * *
We can run through here and tear everything up like you see on TV.
Or you can be a good girl and tell me where Rilla’s drugs are.
“Why’d he even ask if he was going to do this anyway?” Candace spoke aloud as she surveyed the tragedy that once was her apartment. Detective Judkins seemed friendly enough, but it was clear he never believed a word Candace had to say. They didn’t break every electronic, but every nook and cranny had clearly been explored, and turned upside down, and thrown on the floor, and stepped on.
Her couch was dismantled. The cushions weren’t shredded, but they were all unzipped and vacated of their contents. Candace stepped into her living room and looked around in dismay. She moaned when she peered into the kitchen. All of her cupboards were open and most of their contents were strewn about on the floor.
Candace shook her head in awe and walked through every room with a hand over her mouth. It would take her days to get things back like it was. The more she saw, the more eager she was to get started, but there was something more important she had to do first.
Candace dug through her purse and found the card Detective Judkins gave her at the jail. It was a business card for a woman named Gabriella Sands. She was a caseworker for Child Protective Services, the woman Candace had to speak with to get her baby back.
Candace went back to the kitchen bar where their home phone normally sat, but it was missing. She found it on the floor, but she couldn’t use it because someone yanked the cord from wall. Colorful wires jutted from the jack.
Why would they do this,
she wondered, but Candace would ask that question many times while she cleaned up.
A hole in the microwave door.
Why?
Pine-Sol and Comet dumped on the bathroom floor.
Why?
A big hole punched or
kicked
in one of the bedroom walls.
Why would they do any of this?
Police are evil people,
Candace told herself, but deep down she knew that wasn’t true.
The only house phone was out of commission, so Candace went back to the living room to look for her cellular. Or was it in the bedroom? It was hard to guess, but she knew she’d find it somewhere in the mess.
The work looked overwhelming, but there was no way around it. Candace shook her head and sighed. She grabbed two trash bags and got down on her knees to begin the exhaustive task. It was already after two. She had to find her phone within the next three hours if she wanted to catch the caseworker in the office.