“Would you help me?” she asked what I thought was a random question.

“Of course I would,” I answered truthfully.

“Then let me help you. One day it will be your turn to return the favor.”

“You’re a saint,” I whispered into the phone, my throat clogged with emotions. “I can’t thank you enough for being there for us.”

“It is always my pleasure. I love you like I would my own daughter. Now go take a bath and try to relax tonight.”

That sounded like a great plan, although I wasn’t sure I knew how to relax anymore.

“Thanks again, Ruth,” I murmured into the phone, hoping my gratitude came through. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Just remember, child, that the Lord only gives us that which we can handle. You’re strong because He made you strong. One day you’ll see.” With that, she disconnected and left me pondering her words.

Since Kevin left, even on my best days, I didn’t feel strong. Before that, I’m not sure what I was. I never really thought about it. Sure it was tough dealing with my parents dying when I was twelve. And it was even harder when my maternal aunt, who had taken on the task of raising me, died when I was fifteen. And foster care was a beast in and of itself. I suppose making it through the system mostly unscathed was a testament to the fact that there was some strength in me.

It didn’t matter, though. At the end of the day, I had no choice but to be strong. My daughter needed me and I couldn’t fail her. Even if I was faking it in the hopes of making it.

Turning off the lights in the living room, I made my way down the hall, stopping in front of Sophie’s door where I heard muffled crying coming from her room. I turned the knob and swung the door open, finding Sophie in a ball on her bed, sobbing.

“What’s the matter, baby?” I rushed over to her and took her tiny body in my arms.

“I’m… hungry…” she stuttered out between body-wracking sobs.

Right then, right there, what was left of my broken heart shattered into a million pieces.

I had failed the one person who loved me unconditionally.

I had failed as a mother.

There was only one thing left for me to do.

Two days later, a cab dropped me off at a nondescript warehouse on the outskirts of town. Unlike Pussy Willows, the grounds of The Den seemed well maintained with bushes and shrubs surrounding the blacktop. It wasn’t overtly scary, but it was deserted looking. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the building was abandoned.

“Excuse me. Are you sure this is the right address?” I asked the driver before exiting the vehicle.

“You wanted The Den. You got The Den.” He looked me up and down from over his shoulder and gave me a lecherous grin. “Enjoy yourself, pretty girl.”

With a sense of unease, I got out and stared at the building as the cab drove away.

Growing up here my whole life I’d had no idea this place existed. How had I not known it existed?

Shaking off the strange feelings that line of thought evoked, I chalked it up to my fear of the unknown. I had no clue what lay beyond those heavy metal doors. Or if anything did, really. The only positive thought I clung to was that it was unlikely for a cabbie to leave me stranded all the way out here if the place actually was abandoned.

“I guess now is as good a time as any to find out what’s actually behind the door,” I muttered and squared my shoulders, fed up with my silent internal debate about The Den.

My heels clicked on the pavement as I tentatively climbed the concrete steps. I smoothed down the black dress covering my hips before reaching out and pulling the handle of the door, coming up short when it didn’t budge.

“What the hell?” I pulled again with the same result.

With a renewed vigor, I tried a couple more times, putting a little more elbow grease into it before finally giving up. With a huff, I looked to the side and spotted an older-looking doorbell. Pushing the button, I was met with silence.

Just great, I silently fumed.

Digging in my purse, I pulled out the slip of paper Reanna had given me. This was the place according to what was written and of course what the cabbie had said—and he did seem to be in the know about The Den.

Please, Lord, don’t let me be stranded out here. The nearest gas station is at least a mile down the road and these heels are sure to kill my feet before I get there.

Assuming the buzzer was broken, I pushed it several more times out of frustration before letting out a groan and dropping my head in defeat.

I swear the universe was out to get me.

Turning to walk back down the stairs, I was about to place my foot on the first step when the door behind me creaked open. I spun around to greet the person at the door and lost my footing, stumbling backward. My arms pinwheeled at my sides for a brief moment and I thought for sure I was going to topple backward and crack my head open. At the last minute, I was able to right myself before taking a header.

Clutching the iron railing, I looked up and gasped at the sight of the giant black man standing in the doorway. He looked like an even more badass Shaft than Samuel L. Jackson did.

Standing well over six foot, his upper body was so wide I was surprised he fit through the door. His head was bald with a thick beard covering his face, and he had menace written all over him. If I wasn’t mistaken, some of it was directed at me.

Yikes! It would seem the doorbell worked after all.

“Hi,” I chirped and gave a quirky wave in an attempt to hide my anxiety. The man made me want to pee my pants.

He didn’t wave back. Instead, he crossed his arms and silently stared me down.

Okay. That definitely wasn’t helping.

I took a step in his direction and swallowed around the lump in my throat. “I’m hoping to speak with someone about a job.”

His eyes assessed me for a moment before he bit out, “We aren’t hiring.”

When he turned to walk back inside, I raced towards him and gripped the edge of the door. “Please. All I need is a few minutes of your time. Reanna sent me.”

He turned back to me with a discerning gaze. “Where’d you meet Reanna?”

“At Pussy Willows,” I answered quickly.

“Figures.” He spun around and started walking down a dimly lit hall just past where I stood at the door. My jaw fell open at his sudden dismissal. I couldn’t believe he was just going to walk away from me.

He stopped abruptly and glanced over his shoulder at me, barking, “You coming or what?”

Coming unstuck, I hurried after him, practically tripping over my own feet in both fear and excitement. He was giving me a chance!

“Excuse me, mister…” I trailed off, not sure of his name.

“Darnell,” he answered, and I thought the name suited him.

“Darnell, can you slow down?” My words were punctuated by a slap of my hand on the wall when my ankle turned while trying to keep up with his long, quick strides.

With annoyance written all over his face, he shook his head at me but slowed his steps.

As we entered a large room, a scantily clad woman hustled by us. She gave Darnell a broad smile and called out, “How’s it shaking, Ghost?”

I barely took notice of her when he stopped to speak with her. I was too busy glancing around the room in amazement.

Holy shit this is a classy joint.

The center of the room had a huge tres ceiling with built-in lighting around the edges and a chandelier hanging in the center of the recess. On either end of the room’s long walls, there were large oval-shaped platforms with two poles on each. Above the platforms were soffits in the ceiling that were lit up with what I would consider mood lighting.