A Good Dude (42 page)

“Why would you take her over there? You said CC and Rilla know where Trisha lives.”

“They know where I live, too, Tino, but neither one came over here today.”

“You’re taking a chance.”

“What kind of chance? Seriously, Tino, what do you think is going to happen?”

“He might go over there and take your baby.”

“Leila’s not his baby. That’s kidnapping.”

“He doesn’t know that.”

“Tino, Trisha isn’t going to give my baby to Rilla. And he sure as hell can’t take Leila from her. Trisha’s damned near twice his size.”

“What if he does?”

“He’s not even out, Tino.”

“But what if he is?”

“What if the roof falls on us before we leave?” Candace asked. “Tino, we can
what if
ourselves to death. Sometimes you have to go with common sense and hope for the best.”

“But what if—”

“Trust me,” Candace said. “She’ll be okay tonight with Trisha.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m one hundred percent positive.”

* * *

And Candace was sure. She told Trisha what was going on when she dropped Leila off.

“You have to keep the doors locked tonight.”

“I will,” Trisha said. “But you know I don’t like to get up.”

“I know,” Candace said. “But can you do it tonight?”

“Yeah, girl. You think Rilla’s out?”

“I don’t,” Candace said. “But if he gets out while I’m at work, he only has two places to look for me, my apartment or yours.”

“If he come over here messing with me, I’ma kick his ass,” Trisha announced.

“You’d have to open the door to kick his ass,” Candace noted.

Trisha sighed. “Candace, you know I’ll die before I let somebody take your baby.” Trisha bounced Leila on her shoulder. Candace grinned at her daughter’s big diaper butt.

“I know,” Candace said. “That’s why I’m here.”

“For real,” Trisha said. “I’m telling you this before God: He’d have to kill me.”

“I trust you,” Candace said.

“And if I hear anything about Rilla, I’ll go to a neighbor’s house and call you at work,” Trisha said.

Candace thanked her friend and stepped out of the apartment with a renewed sense of control. She closed the door behind herself but didn’t head downstairs right away. She listened, and after a few seconds she heard Trisha slide the deadbolt.

Candace went to work with a smile on her face.

* * *

But that smile was gone when she pulled into the parking lot at Pappadeaux. Candace had a hard lump in her throat instead. She knew she did all she could, but still . . . . She and Leila could be on a plane by now. She’d probably be on that plane wondering if Rilla really was out and if she left Tino for nothing, but still, at least she’d be on the plane.

She walked into the restaurant casually, but stopped in the foyer. She couldn’t put a finger on it, but some
-
thing didn’t feel right. Candace looked around slowly. People were eating, waiters were serving, and credit cards were being swiped. Nothing was out of order. It was business as usual.

Candace sighed and went to find the manager so she could get her section for the night. She started her shift with a strong sense of foreboding, but after a few tables she relaxed. She served good foods, got nice tips, and her phone didn’t vibrate in her pocket. She checked it every so often to make sure, but each time there were no missed calls.

An hour passed.

And then another.

Candace was getting into the groove of her night when the hostess told her she had a new customer, a table for one.

“White or black?” Candace asked. It was sad but true; white people tipped better, especially if they were eating alone. Candace planned to teach her daughter the meaning of the word
gratuity
as soon as Leila could talk.

“He’s Mexican,” the freckle-faced girl told her. “He’s cute, too.”

Candace grinned. A cute Mexican guy might be all right. She didn’t try to use her looks for monetary gain, but Candace knew she could coax a $20 bill out of any single man, especially if he had enough money to dine at Pappadeaux.

She took the pad from her apron and plucked a pencil from behind her ear. Candace stepped to the tablefor-one with the cheesiest grin she could muster. Her cus
-
tomer was already deep in his menu. She couldn’t see his face until she was standing over him, and what she saw made Candace’s flaky greeting melt away in her mouth.

“Hi! Welcome to Pappadeaux. I’m Candace, I’ll be . . . .”

Her customer was handsome, there was no denying that. But that’s the only thing the hostess was right about. This patron wasn’t Mexican, he was Puerto Rican. His skin was darker than most Latinos, the color of coffee with one cream. He had bushy eyebrows and a perfect complexion, not one scar, dimple, or pimple. A neat goatee framed his mouth, but when he smiled, Candace saw that his platinum grill was missing. Maybe he left it at the county jail.

“Damn, baby,” Rilla said. “Look at you, Candace. Done got all grown up.”

RILLA TIME

Candace’s notepad trembled in her hands. Her pencil, poised to jot down tasty delectables like the Oysters Baton Rouge, made a dark, jagged line on the paper.

Candace stared at her ex-boyfriend in awe, and a cold chill enveloped her body. It started at her head and floated down like mist, numbing her chest and arms. Candace’s fingertips went white. Her face did as well.

It was hard to get air. Black and gray dots swam before her eyes, and Candace knew she was losing it. It was weird to be aware of that. She thought that if you were
losing it
, you’d have no understanding of what was going on, but that wasn’t the case.

Candace felt herself falling. She tried to reach out and grab hold of reality, but reality was elusive. It slipped through her fingers like raindrops.

Her muscles went slack and sleep felt like a wonderful escape. Candace dropped her pad and pencil. She teetered right, then left, willing to land wherever gravity pulled her, but Rilla jumped from his seat and braced her shoulders with his strong hands.

“Candace!”

He stood before her and somehow managed to support her weight, though both of Candace’s knees were bent like a stringless puppet. Her eyelids fluttered. She said something, but it was too guttural, more animal than human.

“Candace!”

A waiter rushed forward and supported her limp body from behind. He was a small guy, but with four hands on her, Candace was in no danger of hitting the floor.

The waiter looked quickly from Candace to Rilla. “What’s wrong with her?” he asked the customer.

“I don’t know, man,” Rilla said. “I think she got a little excited. She’ll be all right.”

“Hey, Candace. Can you hear me? Sit her down.” The waiter pulled a chair away from the table, and he and Rilla lowered Candace’s butt into it. Her world was starting to settle by then. She shook her head slowly and tried to get a grasp on what was going on. On some
fuzzy
level she understood Rilla had come to her restaurant, but that was illogical. Even if it did happen, it felt like something that happened very long ago.

“
Candace?
Candace, can you hear me?”

She turned to her coworker and nodded weakly. Candace forced her eyes open. The clouds in her head cleared, and she looked around fretfully. She realized this was no dream, and her eyes were not deceiving her. A skinny waiter named Parker held her on the left side, and Rilla supported her on the right. Candace sneered at her ex-boyfriend and jerked away from him roughly, but that only made the syncope come back.

“Calm down,” Parker said. “I think you fainted.”

“You all right, baby?” Rilla asked.

Candace stared at him and her focus gradually returned, like an old television that took a while to warm up. Rilla wore a short-sleeved golf shirt with a Polo emblem over the left breast. The shirt was solid white, and he looked handsome in it. It was the kind of shirt Candace always wanted him to wear when they were dating, but Rilla thought T-shirts and jerseys were suitable for any occasion back then.

Seeing that his girlfriend had come to her senses, Rilla smiled pleasantly. He stepped away from Candace and casually returned to his seat. He sat right across from her like they were dating again.

Candace shot to her feet and ignored the havoc this move wreaked on her equilibrium. She stumbled forward. “
Candace!
”

Parker reached to brace her again, but Candace didn’t need him. She put her hands flat on the table and supported herself. She kept her eyes fixed on Rilla’s and ignored the way the world rolled in her peripheral vision. This seemed to work.

“What are you doing here?” she growled.

Rilla picked up his menu and grinned. “I came to see you, baby. Ain’t heard from you in so long . . . . I didn’t know if you figured I was dead or what.” He scanned the appetizers.

Parker looked from Rilla to Candace with obvious concern. “Uh, are you okay, Candace? Do you know this guy?”

Rilla sneered at him. “Get on,
Opie
! You ain’t my waiter. This ain’t got nothing to do with you.”

Parker almost walked away, but he was one of six Pappadeaux staff members who had a crush on Candace. “Huh?”

“You need to leave, Rilla. I don’t want to talk to you,” Candace said.

Rilla put down his menu and leaned back in the chair. “You ain’t seen me in six months, girl. How you gon’ act like that? I think we do need to talk. You got my
car
, all my
furniture
. You got my
baby
. You a fool if you think we ain’t gon’ talk.”

Parker was not normally one to confront threatening minority males, but they were in a crowded restaurant. What’s the worst that could happen? He wasn’t old enough to remember Luby’s 1991.

“Um, I think she wants you to leave, sir.”

“Man, get the hell away from my table!” Rilla hollered. “This a free country. I can eat wherever I want.”

The few customers who weren’t already watching because of Candace’s fainting spell definitely gave this table their attention now. Parker looked around nervously and dismissed himself discreetly.

“You can have that car,” Candace said. “All the furniture, too. I don’t need it.”

Rilla wasn’t surprised by that. “What about my baby?”

Candace was close to telling him about CC, but she considered the impact of her words. Rilla was already teetering on the edge of ignorance. She could either douse or fuel his flames.