“He is a her?I know of these things, but have never…”
“She goes by the name Genni.And let me tell you, those waffles are going to be amazing.”
While Daryl handles her suitcase, Aliah follows me to the kitchen, where Genni is mounding an impressive pile of homemade whipped cream atop a single waffle for Zahra’s dining pleasure.The little girl looks both giddy and exhausted.She’ll crash hard after all this.I know I will.
I’m halfway to the fridge to fetch Petunia’s salad when Genni informs me she already took pity on the lizard.The “because someone had to” is implied.
I’m pretty sure I’m a complete fail as a reptile sitter, but am prepared to live with the shame.
Aliah and I dish up bowls of fresh-sliced strawberries, leaving our share of waffles to be devoured by Daryl.Genni fusses happily over the extra guests.She produces a toiletry bag and is soon brushing out Zahra’s long, dark hair while the girl picks through a rainbow of colored ribbons.
The only life-form put out from the evening’s unexpected turn appears to be Petunia, who has abandoned her usual spot in front of the glass slider in favor of a high perch on top of the curtain rod.Given the iguana did get fed, I’m not sure what she has to be so hostile about, but she keeps glancing down at us, flicking her tail and sticking out her eerily human-looking tongue.
“Don’t be a brat,” I finally inform her.
Zahra starts yawning minutes later.Daryl takes the hint toscoop the last bite from his plate, then escorts Aliah and Zahra to their room.Genni is already bustling about, clearing dishes.
Petunia deigns to climb down the draperies.I toss her a strawberry as a peace offering.She gulps it off the floor, scuttles closer.I feed her a couple more, till her posture relaxes and we seem to be buddies again.
“Daryl said the little girl’s father was found dead,” Genni speaks up from the sink.
“Yeah.Tortured and killed.Not a good scene.”All at once, I feel exhausted.I drop to the floor beside Petunia, stroke a line down her side.She’s not exactly a purring kitten, but as pet therapy goes, she’s not half bad.
“And the mother?”
“Still no word.”
“But you think she’s in danger, the girl as well.”
“Let’s just say wherever Sabera goes, violence seems to follow.”I glance up at Genni.“Are you worried?Should we take them someplace else?”
Genni practically huffs at me.“Girl, I grew up dressing like this while living on the streets.You think I don’t know how to defend myself?I might be a tall, gorgeous Amazon now, but I earned my scars along the way.I don’t just sew my own clothes, I make sure they have plenty of pockets for rusty blades.You?”
“I killed a man.”The words are out before I can stop them.I don’t know why I’m talking about it, but it’s too late to take the statement back now.
Genni comes around the massive kitchen island.She peers at me thoughtfully, then in a surprisingly graceful motion for a woman in two-inch Mary Janes, lowers herself to the tiled floor.
“Tell me about it.”
“I didn’t do it myself, per se.But I knew what would happennext, and I did it anyway.Led him into the clearing.I don’t think he saw the bullet coming, but I did.”
My hands are trembling again.Which makes me imagine Isaad Ahmadi’s fingers, burnt black claws from scrabbling through the flames to save his precious notes.
He must’ve known he wasn’t walking out of that warehouse alive.They lured him there with the lock of his wife’s hair.Offered it up as some kind of exchange.Did he think he was saving Sabera?Did he love her that much?
A woman who’d once been his assistant, before becoming his bride—if indeed they were really married.
Aliah found him dominating, the proverbial controlling older husband.Sabera’s neighbor, Nageenah, and the caseworker, Staci, thought the Ahmadis’ relationship was more complicated.Then again, aren’t all relationships?
I press the heels of my hands into my eye sockets, scrub at my own eyelids.When I lower my arms, Genni is regarding me with open sympathy.
“Honey, we all got our scars.”She gestures down at her country chic ensemble.“And we all got our own kind of armor.”
I get it.“Who worked here first, you or Daryl?”
“My charming self, of course.”
“And you got this job…?”
