“It’ll be my first time,” I sort of breathe at him. “Let’s make it special.” And then I go into the bathroom, close the door behind me, and lock it. I put my forehead against the mirror and close my eyes.

“Help us God, help us God, help us God,” I pray.

twelve

THE NEXT DAY, GRIMSHAW AND I are out on the Golden State Freeway with our thumbs out. I’m holding up the word EAST, which I drew on the front inside cover of my upward mobility notebook. Within minutes, a vintage Chevy pulls over and stops.

“I can’t believe he did that,” Grimshaw says, picking up her suitcase.

“It’s amazing all the old cars you see out here,” I comment. “Ruby would love it.”

“He didn’t even explain!” She shakes her head. “He was the one with all the plans for us. Big dreams.” I can see two soldiers sitting in the front of the car, all dressed up in camo gear. “He was gonna manage me,” she says. “All the way to the top.”

I hold open the rear door of the Chevy for her. She stands there, still talking.

“He comes in, I’m, like, with a customer. He calls me a liar—right in front of the guy! Jesus. That is so unprofessional. I tell him we’ll discuss it later—” Before I get in the car, she hits me on the arm, demonstrating how hard Mike had hit her. It wasn’t very hard. “Because I was talking to this guy,” she continues. “A customer! So it really wasn’t that cool at all.”

We get in the car. “He thinks he can get away with throwing his weight around ’cause he’s the manager. But he’s wrong. There’s an owner, too.”

We pull out into traffic. The soldier on the passenger side turns around. “What kind of music can we play for you ladies?”

“Jazz,” I tell him. “But not too loud.”

That shuts them up. A thick silence settles over us, which will last for the rest of the day, punctuated every twenty minutes by a sharp sigh from Grimshaw. She doesn’t say any more about Mike or about the events of last night. She doesn’t know what happened between me and Mike. I want to tell her—I tried to tell her. The body stocking, what he was ready to do to me. But I’m not even sure what happened myself. At one point, she checks her watch.

“I should be at work right now,” she says.

“Don’t think about it” is my only advice.