Push Comes to Shove by Oasis Page B

was now standing beside the car in a thong. “We’re lost. I’ll give you ten dollars to take us home.”
    Junior didn’t have to imagine much anymore as he stared out the window.
    “I’ll take you home.” He started the car. “How about we call your parents? They must be worried.” He checked his watch. Eleven-fourteen p.m. “They probably have the police out looking for you.”
    Police. Crack. Missing Children. The Mayor of Cleveland
. He shifted a worried look between Junior and Secret. “Where’s home?” He pulled next to Shea and rolled the window down.
    Junior fiddled with his identification bracelet. “We live—”
    Secret clamped a hand over his mouth. “You better not.”
    The mayor understood that Secret was hiding something. He figured his sure bet was to drop them off somewhere and never look back.
    Shea looked into the car. “Brandon, why are you doing me like this?”
    He thought about the police again. “Here.” He handed her the bulk of his cocaine and drove away.
    As the power window rose, he could hear Shea’s voice fading. “Brandon, stop. I need the lighter…”
    The mayor pulled the seat belt over his shoulder. “Okay, buckle up.” He held Secret’s gaze through the rearview. “Little lady, tell me where it is I’m going.”
    “Uh…take us to Indian Hills Apartment. You know where that is?”
    “In the city of Euclid.” He put on his turn signal.
    Junior’s seat belt made a dull sound when it locked in place. “Why not home, Secret?”
    “I’m with him.” The mayor drove up a highway ramp. “I’d rather take you home and make sure you’re safe.”
    “I’ll make sure we’re safe. Indian Hills is fine.” Secret heard GP’s warning,
Everyone is a contender
, in her head. “We don’t know you well enough to show you where we live.”

CHAPTER 7
    S uzette Sanders paced the Justice Center lobby, biting what was left of her nails.
    A corrections officer emerged from an elevator and began to call visitors. His enthusiasm was zapped. He read from a list of names as if he’d much rather be parked in front of his wide screen with a cold beer. Halfway down the list, he called for Suzette Sanders.
    She rubbed a hand over her brunette French twist, then went to the elevator where the other concerned and loved ones were gathered.

    She drummed her fingers against the table. This place was more relaxed than what the media had led her to believe. Prisoners filed in wearing orange outfits. They dispersed throughout the visiting room. Most hugged; some shared an intimate kiss; others shook hands with their visitors.
    Kitchie spotted Suzette and smiled. They shook hands. “You don’t know how much I appreciate you coming here.” She felt Suzette’s hand trembling in hers. “How are my babies? Did they seem…sad?”
    Suzette lowered her gaze. A tear splashed onto the table.
    “Is there something wrong?” Kitchie sank in the seat to get a visual on Suzette’s face.
    “They’re missing.” Her voice was lower than the hum of the collective chatter.
    “Excuse me.”
    Suzette straightened her posture. She found strength with a deep breath. “Your children have been missing since last night. I’m sorry, Kitchie.”
    Kitchie felt dizzy. The visiting room spun as if it were a merry-go-round. “Ay Dios mio crucificado…porque?”

    GP approached a compact man who looked as if he had swallowed steroids for breakfast and had drunk dumbbells for dinner. “Are you gonna use that?” GP nodded toward the phone the man was propped against. The man made him think of Mighty Mouse.
    “Waiting for a call; just paged somebody.” He settled his massive back on the receiver and stared at a group of undesirables shooting dice for commissary.
    “Man…why the hell you trying to play me? You can’t beep nobody from these phones.” GP was a smoldering bomb on the verge of detonation. “I’m not new to this. If you not about to use the phone, I am.” He wrapped a hand around an ink