UNEXPECTED compile by Jeana Page A

sounding stronger.
    She made Emma promise to text back later, hung up the phone, and dialed Mitch. The phone rang a half-dozen times before he answered, sounding disheveled and irritated.
    “What the hell? Do you know what time it is?”
    “He’s at it again,” she snapped. “Emma just called me. She’s in the closet while that bastard knocks Mom around.”
    His heavy sigh crackled over the phone. “So what do you want me to do about it?”
    “You’re a cop, Mitch. Arrest him. Do something. Anything.” Frustration tensed every muscle in her body until she thought her bones would crumble. How could he be so callous? Times like these made her wonder if the same blood ran in their veins. They looked similar with their fair skin, pale gray eyes, and red-gold hair, but their personalities couldn’t have been more different.
    “We’ve been over this a dozen times. I can arrest him, but then Emma’s going to go into the system. And we both know what that’s like, don’t we? Do you really want to put her through that?”
    A deep ache constricted her chest as past and present collided. Sleepless nights in a stranger’s house. Tossed around from family to family like some kind of unwanted nuisance. The infinite torture of never knowing where or how long you’d be in any one place. If the next foster home would be better or worse than the first.
    “Then you take her,” Karly snapped, rubbing the ache between her brows with two fingers.
    “Me? Are you fucking nuts? I’ve already got two kids, child support, two mortgages, and a baby on the way. How the hell can I take her?”
    “You’ve got another kid on the way? I didn’t even know you were seeing someone. When were you going to tell me?”
    “I’m telling you now. I’ve been seeing Pilar, and she’s knocked up.” He groaned. She heard the rustle of bedclothes and a questioning female voice in the background. “Do you really want to talk about this right now?”
    She leaned against the wall, pressed her back into the cool plaster, and shut her eyes against the light. If only she could shut out her problems as easily.
    “I can’t stand by and do nothing,” she whispered.
    “Look. We lived through it. She will too,” Mitch said. “If you’re so damned concerned, you take her.”
    “You know I’ve tried. No judge is going to give custody to a twenty-three-year-old waitress.” She turned to face the wall and pressed her forehead against the cool surface. With a forefinger, she scratched at the peeling wallpaper above the chair railing.
    “Well, then. There you go,” Mitch replied, clearly finished with the conversation. “Look. I’ve got to get off here. I have a five AM start tomorrow.”
    The buzzing dial tone hit her like a slap in the face. In typical Mitch fashion, he’d dismissed anything unpleasant or inconvenient as unworthy of his time. She slid her phone into the pocket of her apron and hastily brushed the tears from her cheeks. Mitch could be a heartless bastard when he wanted, but he was right about one thing. They’d spent their fair share of time in foster homes and youth centers; she didn’t want sweet Emma to endure anything remotely similar. All she could do was be supportive of Emma until an opportunity came to change the situation.
    “Those drinks aren’t going to serve themselves, Eriksson,” Scotty, the bar owner, bellowed to her from the kitchen. Clouds of steam bubbled from the stainless steel pots on the stove behind him and surrounded his corpulent figure. Sweat dripped from his shiny forehead. “Get your ass out there.”
    With a heavy sigh, she adjusted her ponytail and smoothed the hair from her face. To keep from going crazy, she compartmentalized her problems, putting family and money issues behind her for later. All she had to do was get through the next couple of hours, get out on the floor, and make some money. Once at home in her dingy little apartment, she would devise a plan to help