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want any crying, you hear me? Not here. Not when Mama’s here. Mama’s here, baby boy. She’s here.”
    I rocked my precious son in my arms, hugging him tightly. I’d left for him, tried to make a living so that we never had to worry about money again. The nightclub, everything, was for him. I wanted to make a good life for us both.
    “You left me,” he sobbed. “You left me.”
    “I’m not going anywhere,” I said. “I’m right here, baby. Look at Mama. I’m right here, son.”
    But he wouldn’t stop crying. It broke my heart. He clung to me, but I gently extricated myself, holding him at arm’s length to get a look at his face.
    It wasn’t my son.
    “Cocoa?” I asked, in absolute disbelief. “Is it you?”
    “It’s me, Mama,” she sobbed, hiccupping for breath, wiping the tears from her cheeks even as they continued to fall.
    “What are you doing here?” I asked. Cocoa had been something of a lieutenant to me in the nightclub. She’d been my liaison between the business side of the nightclub and the personnel—my girls. She told them things I asked her to, and became like another mother to several of them. I trusted her—I used to trust her—with everything. Whenever we took on a new girl at the boarding house, it was Cocoa I always put her with. Cocoa was patient and kind and always showed the girls what they were supposed to be doing—if not by telling them outright, then by showing them through her example. She was one of the most talented, highest paid girls in the nightclub.
    But then, she betrayed me.
    “You betrayed me,” I said, scooting away from her. “You fucked me over, Cocoa. Why?”
    “I didn’t,” she said sadly, shaking her head. “I’d never, Mama. It was you who betrayed me.”
    “Not true,” I insisted. “That’s just not true.”
    “You turned your back on me,” she said. “I needed your help, Mama, and you weren’t there for me. I needed you, and you turned me out.”
    “You stole from me,” I said, choking on my rage and my grief. Cocoa had been like a daughter to me. The betrayal had been absolute.
    “How is collecting some of my wages stealing from you?” she asked, putting her hands on her hips. “All I took from you was two grand. I bet that was what I made in a week, Mama. You knew how good I was. Why couldn’t you have helped me?”
    I shook my head furiously. It didn’t make sense. Cocoa lied to me, she endangered the nightclub when she let some fool of a customer take photos of her while they were having sex. The customer’s wife found out and ended their marriage over it, and he returned to the nightclub, seeking revenge and exacting it on Cocoa. Cops had been called—cops I hadn’t known. It had put everything in danger.
    “You could’ve cost me everything,” I said. “You could’ve brought the entire nightclub to its knees.”
    “Where do you think the nightclub is right now?” she asked. “It’s over, Mama, and it wasn’t me. It was you. You.”
    “Lies,” I said. “Pure lies. That nightclub was my life. I cared for all of you girls. I did.”
    “No,” Cocoa said. Her face was dry, as if she’d never shed a tear. “The one and only thing you ever cared about ever since I first met you was money. Cash was your first and only love, Mama. We were just vehicles to get you toward what you wanted. And you’d toss us aside if you thought we were getting in your way. You tried to kill me just for asking what was rightfully mine.”
    “I didn’t,” I protested. “I’d never. You—you’re lying.” Even as I tried to dispute Cocoa’s version of events, foggy memories surfaced—memories I’d tried to keep deep within myself. A gun in my hand. Cocoa running from me. The crash of glass. Cocoa jumping out of a window to get away. Rage. The chase. And absolute despair.
    “Get out of here!” I screamed at her. “Get out of here!”
    “You think about your sins, Mama,” Cocoa said, rising gracefully and walking toward the