Heather grabbed a lock of her curly hair that had somehow escaped its tight bun. She had been working hard this past month, bringing in supplies for her ministry. It had taken some skills to keep people from her past from discovering she was here—somehow the gossip of the ghettos hadn’t gotten ‘round that she was around. Did she dare let her distinctive curls loose and let people know the ex-gambler-gangster girl was back in town?
The new world government had closed up the ghettos, barricading those who lived in them, refusing to let them out. Those who were foolish enough to want to go into the ghettos were allowed to—but they knew they were to never leave--dead or alive. Why should the government worry about enforcing laws in an already lawless society?
It was just a matter of time before the gangs would wipe each other out. Heather had gotten out once, and in the years that followed, she had become a Christian, had been given a true calling. The government had cut most of the food supplies off, except to the gang lords and those the gang lords favored.
That was where Heather came in. Through an anonymous donation, food and medical supplies were being provided. Along with Hispanic Bibles and tracts and a few personal ways to send the contact the needs of the ghettos.
Heather stared at the single loose curl. It was time to reveal herself and start supplying her people with food. It only made sense to reveal her presence now. It was a new year—a perfect time to begin a new ministry. All she had to do was make contact with the person who had the most control over whether she was busted or not—Isabel A.K.A Dizzy, the gang leader’s woman. Heather nodded once and grabbed the rubber band that kept her hair back, roughly yanking it out. She shook her head, allowing the curls to do their thing.
She took a deep breath and checked the mirror before grabbing a small knapsack and slinging it over her shoulder. With the bag heavy with foodstuff and her plan firm in her mind, she opened the door.
It didn’t take long for Dizzy to spot the curls. The skinny girl followed Heather for several blocks, until Heather ducked into an alley. Dizzy grabbed Heather from behind and shoved her against the wall.
“Wha da **** you doin’ back here, Red?”
“Wha’ does it look like?”
“Makin’ trouble for us...don’cha stupid gringa know nuttin’ else?”
“Look, Dizzy, I came back didn’t I? Nd’ I found somethin’ that is for real.”
Dizzy let go of Heather but kept her pinned against the wall, “Whateva . . . you came back here 'cuz you want my man after yours is gone . . . and you ain't gonna get him.”
“Look, chica, I don’t wan’ your boy. ‘Sides, I’m happy with who I am now.”
Dizzy laughed. “You are crazy, chica. There ain’t no one happy anymore.”
“Whatever you say, Isabel. How ‘bout we make a deal.”
Dizzy raised her eyebrow. “Like wha?”
“You don’t tell Paco tha’ I’m back.”
“’nd what do I get?”
Smiling faintly, Heather unfastened the satchel and revealed the food. Izzy’s jaw dropped.
“Where’d ya get dat?” Izzy demanded and Heather quickly pulled the bag shut.
“I don’t wanna bribe ya chica. But I need to stay outta trouble. At least until everyone here gets some of this.”
“You gots more of dat? How?”
Heather smiled and shook her head. “That ain’t part of the deal.”
Izzy let out a huff and nodded once. Heather grinned faintly despite the odds that said she had half a chance in this seemingly insane ministry. And in that dark alley, Heather opened her knapsack and began her ministry.
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