him would no doubt have her explaining a bunch of bruises to Penny. And if she was going to get Penny to take her to Los Angeles, she needed to play it clean.
No stress. No drama. No idiots from her past set on ruining her, especially not this idiot.
He took her chin in his hand and lifted her face. Leaning in, he covered her mouth with his, and she let him kiss her.
“You still belong to me. And I’m only going to give you a little bit more time to come to that conclusion. So you go ahead and bury yo’ mama and send yo’ little daughter back wherever the hell she was, and be sure to stay away from that punk Gerald, and I’ll get at you soon.” He walked off down the alley and Carla shuddered.
She had to find a way to get Penny to take her to L.A.—as soon as possible.
Chapter 2
Food, food and more food. Smells of cinnamon and caramelized brown sugar wafted from the glazed ham and the candied yams. Another whiff of the air, and the homey aroma of melted cheese mixed with butter, milk and pasta baked to perfection assaulted the senses.
Too bad Penny hadn’t had a real appetite since she’d gotten the news.
From Tuesday evening, when she got the phone call from Carla telling her Big Mama had passed away, until the Saturday afternoon after the funeral, Penny had pretty much been running on fumes. Sometimes she remembered to eat a bite, but most times not.
Every member of Mount Zion must have brought a dish over to Big Mama’s house after the funeral and interment. And they were all there, milling around, making small talk and sharing memories.
Penny wanted them all to leave, so she could go out into the backyard, sit on the bench under the big oak tree and pretend none of it was happening. She forced smiles and made chitchat, because Big Mama had raised her to be polite. Because of Big Mama, she tried to hold it together.
She could be strong this time. She could prevail over loss this time, especially when she had nothing else to lose. Penny wrapped her arms around herself and closed her eyes for a moment in an effort to push her thoughts back. She couldn’t allow herself to dredge up past losses, not if she wanted to make it through the rest of the day.
She let good times fill her mind.
Being back in Big Mama’s little yellow and white house on Warren Street brought back all kinds of memories. Memories of roller-skating around the corner and having to come in before the streetlights came on. Memories of playing kickball and tag in the PS School #10 playground. Memories of buying a twenty-five-cent grape juice, a bag of barbecue potato chips, a fat pickle and a couple of packs of Now and Laters from the Puerto Rican–owned bodega on the corner and thinking she had the makings of a queen’s meal at her disposal.
Most of all, she had memories of feeling safe and secure.
Standing there in the house she had grown up in, knowing the woman who had loved her and raised her was dead, felt as if someone had pulled the floor out from under her and she was balanced on one beam with a huge black hole waiting to engulf her. It felt as if she stood on the perilous edge of a steep cliff in a pair of stilettos after having one too many mojitos. But at least she was still standing, still balancing. She hadn’t caved yet. Big Mama would have been proud of the way she was holding it together.
How did people make it after losing the person who had always been their rock, their advice giver, the person who helped them make a way to the light when darkness threatened? Big Mama had been all those things to Penny, and more. There had never been a time when Big Mama didn’t have advice for Penny’s life, wanted or not.
She remembered when she was twelve and Big Mama sat her under the tree to explain the changes happening to her preteen body and just a little bit about the birds and the bees. Big Mama had been somewhat vague when it came to some parts of the talk. But she had always been the voice of strength and reason, even when Penny messed up and got pregnant at seventeen.
Big Mama was really gone.
In a week or so, Penny would be gone, too. She hated the fact that she’d probably never again see the small three-bedroom, one-bathroom house her grandmother had worked so hard to keep after the grandfather Penny had never had the pleasure of knowing died.
As soon as she settled Big Mama’s affairs, she’d say goodbye to Paterson, New Jersey, for good.
But could she really say goodbye to North Jersey forever?
She couldn’t believe she’d been away for so long. She missed home more than she’d let herself believe. There was really nothing like North Jersey. From the tenements to the fact that you could literally go one block and be in another town—a town that often felt like a different world, North Jersey offered a packed and condensed mix of flavors and cultures different from the equally diverse but much more spread-out and free-flowing Los Angeles she now called home.
Penny was surprised by how she’d gotten back into the flow of Paterson in under a week. The brothers playing c-lo on the corner, the sisters on the stoops gossiping and people watching, the kids running their little behinds in the street, dangerously close to being run over by a car, the storefront churches on just about every block, right next to the liquor stores, the feeling, the flavor, all called out to a part of her she’d thought was gone.
You can take the girl out of Jersey, but you can’t take Jersey out of the girl.
Penny shook her head.
“Brat, you gonna be leaving for California soon, huh?”
Penny jumped and her reverie ended at the sound of Carla’s voice. She made a mental note not to let her mother get to her. But some things were a whole lot easier in theory.
She didn’t need therapy to know that her unresolved issues and textbook abandonment fears all stemmed from the petite, honey-complexioned woman standing in front of her, drinking grape soda as if it were the finest wine.
Penny noted that Carla had taken to calling her by the childhood “endearment” she’d used whenever Big Mama wasn’t around. She couldn’t remember exactly when it went from shut-up-brat, get-out-of-here-brat, you-make-me-sick-you-little-brat, to just Brat, said in a weird, almost loving way. She only knew it was the name her mother called her by.
Gritting her teeth and counting to ten, Penny responded, “Yes, Carla. I have to go back. I have a business to get back to. The most I can stay is a week or two.”
Penny ran an image-consulting firm with her friend Maritza Morales. They were both former video models/dancers, and they’d met on a rap video shoot about twelve years ago. They’d found they were both working their way through school and had developed a friendship. Since Penny had only ever had guy friends, developing a close friendship with a woman had been a challenge. Maritza had had a similar history, since she’d grown up as the only girl in a family of brothers. But they’d worked at their friendship, and it had grown.
Their business, New Images by Keys and Morales, was doing well. Maritza could more than pick up the slack for a little while, in order for Penny to handle her grandmother’s affairs. But it took the two of them and their six faithful employees to really make it a work. Even though Penny pretty much made her own hours, she still needed to do her part to make sure the business remained a success.
Panic crossed Carla’s face. “But I…Well, I…Well, what am I gonna do? I need somebody to…”
Even though years of hard living had taken a bit of a toll on Carla, she still had the good looks, fair skin, long, wavy black hair and petite but somewhat curvy body that most men found irresistible. She also had a vulnerable, childlike appeal that she seemed to be able to pull out when she needed it. If Penny hadn’t seen all the faces Carla worked like a pro—all her multiple personalities, as Penny liked to refer to them—she might have fallen victim to the sad, helpless puppy-dog expression Carla wore at the moment.
Penny knew better, however, and she refused to fall for it.
“Carla,