Dream a Little Dream (Chicago Stars, #4)(13)

She returned to her weeding, but she’d barely started before a pair of paint-splattered work boots appeared in her peripheral vision. “I thought I told you to get that trash picked up out front.”

She intended to respond politely, but her tongue had a will of its own. “Already done, Kommandant. Your slightest wish is my command.”

His eyes narrowed. “Go inside and start cleaning out the ladies’ room so I can paint in there.”

“A promotion! And it’s only my first day on the job.”

He stared at her for a long, uncomfortable moment, during which she wished she could slap a gag in her mouth.

“Watch yourself, Rachel. Remember that I don’t want you here.”

Before she could reply, he walked away.

With a sideways glance to make certain Edward saw where she was going, she set off for the snack shop. A storage closet held the cleaning supplies she needed, but she was more interested in the pot of coffee sitting nearby. Unless Bonner was a big drinker, he seemed to have made enough for two, and she filled a styrofoam cup to the brim. She couldn’t find any milk, and the coffee was strong enough to qualify for Super Fund cleanup, but she savored every sip as she carried it with her into the ladies’ room.


The plumbing was old and filthy, but still usable. She decided to get the worst over with first and began cleaning the stalls, scraping up crusted muck whose origins didn’t bear thinking about.

Before long, she heard the soft pat of sneakered feet coming up behind her. “Gross.”

“You said it.”

“I remember when we was rich.”

“You were only two. You couldn’t remember.”

“Uh-huh. There was trains on the walls in my bedroom.”

Rachel had put up the blue-and-white striped wallpaper herself, along with its border of colorful trains. The nursery and her bedroom were the only rooms in that awful house she’d been able to decorate herself, and she’d spent as much time in both of them as she could.

“I’m going back outside,” Edward said.

“I don’t blame you.”

“He hasn’t seen me yet.”

“You’re a slick one, buddy.”

“Knock. Knock.”

“Who’s there.”

“Madam.”

She shot him a warning look. “Edddward . . .”

“Ma darned foot’s stuck in the door.” He giggled, stuck his head out to make certain Butthead wasn’t around, and disappeared.

She smiled and returned to her work. It had been a long time since she’d heard her son laugh. He was enjoying his game of hide-and-seek, and being outside like this was good for him.

By one o’clock, she’d cleaned out the six stalls, as well as checked on Edward at least a dozen times, and she was so tired her head was spinning. A rough voice spoke from behind her.

“You’re not going to do me a damned bit of good if you pass out again. Take a break.”

She steadied herself on the metal partition as she straightened, then turned to see Bonner silhouetted in the doorway. “I will when I get tired. So far it hasn’t happened.”

“Yeah, right. There’s a burger and some fries waiting for you in the snack shop. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll eat it.” He strode out, and a moment later she heard the sound of his boots on the metal stairs that led to the projection room above the snack shop.

With a sense of anticipation, she quickly washed her hands and made her way to the snack shop where a McDonald’s bag lay on the counter. For a moment she simply stood there and savored the tantalizing smells of All-American ambrosia. She’d been working since six that morning on an empty stomach, and she had to eat something, but not this. This was too precious.

Keeping an eye out for Bonner, she carried her valuable cargo toward the hiding place on the playground where Edward was waiting. “Surprise, pug. It’s your lucky day.”

“McDonald’s!”

“Only the best.”

She laughed as Edward tore into the bag and began stuffing himself with hamburger. As he ate, she scraped a thin layer of peanut butter from their hidden food stash on a piece of bread, folded it over, and raised it to her lips. She begrudged taking anything from their meager stash for herself. She had already failed her child in so many ways, and eating his food seemed like one more failure. Luckily, it didn’t take much to keep her going.

“Want some fries?”

Her mouth watered. “No thanks. Fried food isn’t good for women my age.”

She took another bite of her sandwich and promised herself that once she found Dwayne’s five million dollars, she would never again eat peanut butter.

Two hours later she had finished cleaning the ladies’ rest room and was taking a paint scraper to the peeling metal doors when she heard a furious bellow.

“Rachel!”

What had she done now? Pinwheels of light spun in her head as she leaned down too quickly to lay the scraper on the floor. Instead of getting better, her dizziness was getting worse.

“Rachel! Get out here!”

She made her way to the door. For a moment the sun blinded her, but as her eyes adjusted to the light, she gave a muffled gasp.

Edward dangled from Bonner’s fist by the scruff of his old orange T-shirt. His dusty black sneakers swung helplessly in the air, and his shirt bunched beneath his armpits, revealing his small, bony rib cage and the blue network of veins that ran just beneath his pale skin. Horse lay on the ground below his feet.