I try not to stare.
Fail.
She notices.
“You’re looking at it again.”
“Yeah.”
“You can ask.”
I shift in the passenger seat, which is too damn small for my legs and my mood. “What did Hot Mama say when she did it?”
Amelia’s throat moves.
“That it wasn’t property.”
“Good.”
“That it wasn’t a club claiming me.”
“Better.”
“That it was a reminder I have a head, a spine, a son watching, and women at my back.”
I nod once.
“And?” I ask.
Her hands tighten on the wheel.
There it is.
The part she left out.
“She said if one day they call, I should remember who opened the road.”
I stare out the windshield.
I knew it.
Still hate hearing it.
“There it is,” I say.
“She didn’t demand anything.”
“Not yet.”
“They helped me.”
“Both can be true.”
Her eyes flash toward me. “You keep saying that like I don’t know.”
“I say it because I know you want the help to be clean.”
“Don’t you?”