I’m sorry this is how you’re finding out about our Jazzy. I need you to take care of her for me because I can’t anymore. Don’t let her end up in the system. Please. Not like us. She’s a good kid, the best.
XX
P
P? Whoever the kid’s mother is, she signed with the letter P. My brain scrambles to try to figure out who the fuck I’ve slept with that has a name that starts with P. The thing is, I couldn’t tell you the name of the woman I had in my bed last week, let alone…
I look to Jazzy again. “How old are you?”
“I’m six and a half,” she says.
That would mean I slept with her mother seven to eight years ago. I’ve got zero chance of remembering who the fuck she is.
“Who’s that?” Jazzy points behind me, and I turn my head to see Sammie staring down at her like he’s trying to piece together a puzzle.
“That’s my friend. Sammie. He’s harmless,” I tell her as I push to my feet.
“He looks scary,” Jazzy says, her head tilted upwards.
“Trust me, he won’t ever hurt you, kid. Come on, we gotta go see someone.”
Her tiny hand finds mine, closing around it. I look down at her but don’t have the heart to pull away; instead, I hold on tighter and lead her through the casino.
“Where you going?” Sammie calls out from behind us.
“To see Louie. He’ll know what to do,” I reply.
“You got this? I gotta take care of something,” he says.
“Yeah. Catch up with you later,” I tell him.
“Where are we going?” Jazzy asks.
“To see a friend.”
When I walk into Louie’s apartment, I let my nose do the leading. The smell of food cooking takes me into the kitchen.
Louie turns around and glares at me before he looks to Jazzy. His face softens. “For the love of god, tell me you did not steal someone’s kid.”
“He didn’t steal me. He’s my daddy.” Jazzy smiles, almost like she’s proud of that fact.If she actually knew me, she wouldn’t be.
Louie’s mouth drops open. He quickly recovers, though. “He’s what now?” he says, but it’s clear the question is directed at me.
“She, ah, was dropped off with a note.” I shrug. I need to talk to him about this, but not in front of the kid.
Louie walks around the counter and squats down, holding his hand out to Jazzy. “Hi, I’m Louie. What’s your name, sweetheart?”
“My name’s Jazzy. It’s short for Jasmine, like the princess,” she says.
“Well, Jazzy, it’s nice to meet you. Why don’t you sit up here? I’m about to make breakfast.” He picks her up, which makes her let go of my hand, and sits her on a stool next to the most recent member to join our group of misfits.Before Jazzy, I guess.“This is my wife, Charlotte,” Louie introduces.
“Hi, you’re very pretty,” Jazzy comments.
“Thank you. So are you, sweetie,” Charlotte replies.
Louie picks up a bowl of fruit and places it on the counter between the girls. “I have some paperwork for Carlo. I forgot to give it to him yesterday,” he tells Charlotte. “Be right back.”
I proceed to follow him to his office before shutting the door behind me.
