Page 29 of Heart of Sin
“So feed her.” He keeps his eyes on the TV, flipping to another channel with the remote.
“With what formula?”
“There’s some of that Nesquik powder in the cabinet. Add water.”
“She’s six-months-old. I can’t give her Nesquik!” I snap.
He cuts me a warning look. “Watch that mouth. Take her in the other room. Make her stop crying.”
His advice ends there.
I huff out a sigh, roll my eyes, and stomp out of the room with Zara in my arms. I’m back in the bedroom before I realize Ramon’s followed me.
“Tash, I’m hungry,” he mumbles. “Where’s Mommy?”
“I don’t know, Ray. I’m going to go to the store and see if I can get us some stuff. You stay with Zara. Try to get her to stop crying.”
Ramon leans against the wall, looking small in his t-shirt and light up sneakers. He watches me as I pull on my coat and boots. “How you gonna get stuff? Did Mommy give you money?”
I don’t answer him.
I haven’t figured that out yet. Maybe if I stand outside the corner store somebody will feel sorry for me and give me money to buy the formula.
“Keep an eye on her,” I say before I leave.
Ramon nods. I pass through the rest of the apartment. Larry’s knocked out on the couch again.
The wind’s an icy chill even with my coat and beanie. It’s dark out, so I stick to the streetlights and walk as fast as I can. Luckily, the corner store’s only a couple blocks down. During the ten minutes it takes me to make it there, I’m thinking up what I’m going to do. I could see if anybody really does feel sorry for me and our situation.
Something tells me nobody will.
I could try and swipe a few things. Baby formula would be hard to steal. The cans are huge and I’m pretty sure they’re kept near the register due to theft. The only solution is to buy it with cash.
I stop outside the small store and let out a breath that frosts in the air. It’s hitting me, watching people walk in and out of the store, that this isn’t happening. I’ve wasted my time.
The only other person standing outside the doors notices me as I turn to go. It’s some lady smoking a cigarette—she’s dressed in what Mom would call hoochie attire, especially considering the weather and time of night, in a mini dress, fishnet stockings, and heels. She’s pretty, with tan skin and almond eyes, even if her make up’s a little loud.
“Hey, baby girl,” she calls out to me with a wink. “What’re you doing out here by yourself?”
I’m not sure how to answer. For a second, I don’t. I just stare.
“You need something?” she prompts, raising a penciled brow.
I nod.
She smiles and blows smoke. “I thought so. Name’s Jamila. Yours?”
“Tasha.”
“How old are you?”
I hesitate and decide to lie a little. “Sixteen.”
“Sixteen. Hmm.” She looks me up and down, her brow still raised. “Sure you are. They all say sixteen.Isaid sixteen.”
Confused what’s going on, I look away and pretend like I’m reading the flyers on the store windows. Another couple seconds, I’ll back off and walk away.
“Look, baby girl,” the woman says with a laugh. Smoke blows from her mouth. “I see what you’re doing. Lemme give it to you straight—it’s not gonna work. Ain’t a thing free in this world. Nobody’s just gonnagiveyou money. You’ve gottaearnit.”