I rounded on her. “Hey, what are you doing?”
“I might as well be filing my nails, girlie. You need to shave those legs. There’s a disposable razor in the medicine cabinet.” She mumbled something in Spanish and I was grateful
I didn’t understand a word of it. “Pits too!” she called out as I slammed the bathroom door in her face.
When I finally caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I cringed. My face was tear-streaked and puffy, and my hair was sticking up in every direction. I sighed and looked around. Every inch of counter around the sink basin was packed full of scented soaps, perfumes, lotions, and cosmetics. Her medicine cabinet was full to near bursting with beauty products. I grabbed a fresh disposable and was about to close the cabinet when I spotted something on the highest shelf.
Aftershave, an extra toothbrush, men’s deodorant . . . I shut the cabinet.
Then I opened it again.
I reached for the aftershave and sniffed the inside of the cap. It was cool and heavy with menthe. It tickled the back of my sinuses and stirred a memory. But not of Reece. Feeling like a total creep—and relieved for reasons I didn’t want to think about—I shut the cabinet and turned on the hot water.
When I was done, I wrapped one of Gena’s plush pink towels around my chest, careful to cover the pendant that clung to my damp skin. I tiptoed into the hall, following my nose to the kitchen, where I found Gena spooning rice over a steaming thick stew. My stomach growled through the towel.
“Sit.” She ordered me to a chair and shoved the bowl into my hands. “Eat.”
I scooped in the first mouthful cautiously. It was full of meat and vegetables and gravy and I’d never smelled anything so good. I hoisted my towel up with one hand, shoveling the spoon to my mouth with the other, barely letting it cool before I worked in the next mouthful. With a snort, Gena snapped a chip clip over the knot in my towel. “You don’t got much to work with up top, huh?” She
smirked as she adjusted the clip. When she pulled her hand away, Reece’s pendant came with it, and her smile fell. We looked at each other. Neither of us spoke. Then she looked
away. “Eat.”
I ate in silence, scraping every last drop of gravy from the bowl, and accepted another helping. Gena watched, scrutinizing my figure, face, and hair as I devoured it.
“You’ve got no boobs and no butt because you don’t eat enough. You should eat. You skinny white chicks got it all wrong, starving yourselves. Men like a little something to hold on to, you know what I’m saying?” She patted the fleshy part of her backside with a manicured hand.
I licked my spoon. “Not all of us skinny white chicks starve ourselves on purpose. You know what I’m saying?” I felt bad for mocking her at her own table, but her lashes curled up, amused, even if her smile wasn’t quite there yet.
“Tranquilo, I didn’t mean anything by it.” She grabbed my dirty dish and set it in the sink. “I can see why Reece likes you.”
Blood raced to my ears and I tucked the pendant back into the folds of the towel. I didn’t want to have this conversation with her. The pendant didn’t mean anything. It was a costume. An act. “It’s not like that. He doesn’t . . . like me that way.”
Her eyes flicked to the silver chain. “Doesn’t he though?” I set the spoon quietly on her table, too guilty to look her in the eyes. How much had he told her? She couldn’t possibly
know that I’d almost blown his cover at school, or she never would have been this kind.
Without warning, Gena yanked the front of my towel up . . . with me in it. “Come with me.”
Too full to protest, I let her pull me down the hall and plunk me in a chair in front of the bathroom vanity. After blasting my hair dry, she worked a straightening iron through the long sections. In the silence between us I heard the clack and release of the iron working over and over in her hands. “How long have you known Reece?” I asked.
Gena looked at me in the mirror, a hint of distrust in the lift of her brow. “About a year.”
If they’d known each other a year, then she’d know why he was in juvie to begin with. “People say he’s dangerous.” I studied her face for a reaction.
“People say a lot of stupid things.”
I bit back a smile. I didn’t want to like her. “What do you think?”
She frowned at a knot, working it through with her fingers. “I think he’d take a bullet for me.”
“You must be pretty close,” I said, ignoring the jealousy that gnawed at me. “How did you meet him?”