Determined, she walked down the street to the alley and entered it for the third day in a row.
The same bums were in place beneath their shelters while Jax was nowhere to be seen. She started down the alley, glancing around to see where it was Jax came from the other two times. There were no doors or fire escapes within reach.
She turned halfway down the alley, surprised to see him between her and the entrance of the alley. Hooded and hunched, his face shadowed, like before.
He paused when she did, and fear made her stomach flutter. After a moment, she started towards him, hugging the journal with some trepidation. Her sister had cared about him. He couldn’t be that bad.
“I was looking for you,” she said.
“You shouldn’t,” came his smoky voice.
She paused. Even in full daylight, she sensed something otherworldly about him. It made the hair on her arms stand up on end. Maybe it was simply how quietly he moved or that he appeared whenever she thought of him.
“Are you following me?” she ventured.
“Not exactly.”
“What does that mean?”
“Like I said.”
She frowned.
“What do you want?” he asked.
A little nervous and scared, she giggled. “You’re following me, but you want to know what I want?”
He waited.
Adrienne cleared her throat. Jax had no sense of humor – that much was clear.
“I wanted to know about my sister,” she said.
“I can’t talk about her.” As before, he turned and started away.
Perplexed, Adrienne hurried to him and caught his arm. “Wait, please!”
He shrugged her off.
“Did you love her?”
Jax froze.
Adrienne flipped open the journal. “I think she loved you. She wrote about you in her journal.”
He spun so fast, she didn’t have time to move.
Jax snatched her arm and yanked the journal free.
Adrienne stared up at him, horrified by the sight of his face, until she realized he wore a skeleton mask. While she couldn’t distinguish his features, she could see his riveting eyes. They were blue-green, bright, sharp and deep set.
Releasing her, Jax walked away.
“Jax!” she called, recovering from her surprise. “You can’t take that!”
“Go home to your daddy, girl.”
Adrienne trailed. “That’s all I have left of her.”
“Trust me. This way is better.”
“What way? You stealing from me?”
He didn’t respond.
They reached the end of the alley. Adrienne stared after him, distraught. She hadn’t gotten far with the journal, but it was her sister’s. Not only that, but the sticky notes were in there, too. All the clues to whatever mystery she was meant to unravel were in Jax’s hands.
“I’m not going home without her journal!” She scrambled after him.
“Don’t be stupid.” He tucked it beneath his sweatshirt.
“You said she wasn’t dead. Are you sure you’re talking about my sister?” she continued.
He said nothing.
“Jax. Jax!”
“You’re driving me crazy, girl. Go home.”
“No.”
He turned down an alley, this one displaying what looked like gang members huddled at its center. She paused, sensing it wasn’t the place for her. The tattooed young men greeted Jax with fist bumps and some complex handshake. A few openly wore guns in their belts and carried knives.
Jax had her sister’s journal.
Adrienne swallowed hard then stepped into the alley, following him. She drew close enough to see the tattoos of the boys. All wore veves of gods while a few had French sayings written on their forearms or in one case, across his forehead. She studied them. She’d never heard of a voodoo gang. Then again, she was new to New Orleans. It was a lot different from Atlanta.
As close as she was willing to go, she stopped and waited, following Jax with her eyes. He seemed unaware of her, as if he didn’t expect her to follow him.
“Who the hell is this?” one of them noticed her.
They all turned, two drawing their weapons while the others just stared.
“I’m here to see Jax,” she said clearly.
“Step right into his office,” one replied then laughed.
“You’re a little young for Jax.”
“Rich girl. You go to the private school. Your daddy know you’re out?”
They circled her as they spoke. Adrienne didn’t know what to say. She looked away quickly, eyes on Jax. His hood was facing her, though he made no move towards her.
“Hey. You sing at the Baptist church on Sundays.” This voice came from behind her.
Adrienne turned to face the speaker. He was ruggedly handsome, a few years older than her with hard, striking green-blue eyes that resembled Jax’s. Dressed in baggy clothing like the others, he was likewise armed with two knives. The tattoos down his arms were of various gods, though the most prominent was that of Ogoun, the warrior god.
“He asked you a question, girl,” one of the others snarled. “You too good to talk to us?”
“No,” she replied. “And yes, I do sing at the church on Sundays.”
“You’re not rich,” the guy with prominent Ogoun tattoos said, crossing his arms. “Your daddy lives in this ward.”
“I’m on scholarship at the school for my singing,” she said. “How do you all know where I live?”
“This is our hood. We know who belongs where.” The speaker’s blue-green eyes slid to Jax, who had neared.
“I’m taking this one home,” one of the others said. “Got a rite in mind for her.”
Someone grabbed her arm.
She gasped and tried to pull away.
“Back off, DeShawn!”
“You back off, Rene. I spotted her first.”
The two were soon shoving each other. Adrienne tried to find her footing, but was yanked between them. Fists flew around her as two more joined the struggle. Someone’s elbow caught her in the side of her head. She slammed into the wall, stars exploding in her thoughts.
Adrienne slid to the ground. She lay still, the sounds of fighting distant. Unable to pull herself out of the dark place, she tried to discern what was going on. The sounds of fighting faded.
“She okay?” someone’s voice warbled.
“Not sure.”
Adrienne tried to answer but wasn’t able to. She felt herself lifted off the hard concrete. For what felt like a million years, she floated in the in-between place, unable to fully enter consciousness or unconsciousness.
The scent of cinnamon rolls reached her. It broke the spell, and she breathed in deeply then opened her eyes. Fluorescent light glared overhead, blinding her for a moment.
Adrienne blinked and twisted her head to see a portly African-American lady seated in front of an ancient computer. By the look of the sagging walls, old technology and aging equipment, she was in a free medical clinic. It was the only type of doctor her mother took them to back home.
Adrienne pushed herself up.
“Those boys normally don’t bring in pretty little white girls whose daddies might sue,” the woman in nurse clothing said, glaring at someone across the room. “That’s a one way ticket to jail, Rene.”
“I wasn’t the one who hit her!” Rene, the young man with blue-green eyes, retorted. “This stupid girl walked into our territory like she owned that shit. Besides, police won’t touch me.”
“Yo’ mama know you cuss? Ima tell her. You lucky if all that happens is she beats your ass. Black man or poor man like you hit a white girl, he goes to jail. Forever. Look at my husband.”
“I’m okay,” Adrienne said. “Aren’t I?”
The large woman eyed her. “Yeah. You okay. Bumped your head. Take Tylenol if it hurts.”
“Okay,” Adrienne said. Her stomach was rumbling from missing dinner, and the smell was driving her crazy. “Are there cinnamon rolls somewhere?”