Chapter 27“Where’d you get the black eye, Carla?” Jimmy asked.
Carla’s hair was hanging in dark strings over one side of her face. She was wearing the same quilted pink bathrobe she’d worn the last time he’d seen her. A cigarette butt, burnt to the filter, had extinguished between her yellowing fingers.
She plopped down on the couch and threw her head back against it, staring up at the ceiling.
Jimmy had thought he could come here for help. Think again. He walked over to his mother. “Tim do that to you?”
His mother looked up at him, her eyes glassy. “Tim who?”
Jimmy felt his knees go weak and sat down. He didn’t know how to deal with drunks. When Miranda had too much, he just left her alone.
But he couldn’t leave his mother alone.
Not when that creep had her address. Who knew when h
