“I was thinking that.” Tyler made a face to show he empathized with him. “Difficult.”
Sami seemed to be checking the ice in her water. She smiled at Tyler and then Marcus. “How was your coffee with Mary Catherine?”
“Short.” Marcus could feel his heart soften at the mention of her name. “Hey, I’m happy for you two. I know Shelly doesn’t get it. But the two of you, it means a lot. Another piece of the most unbelievable story ever.”
“Thanks, man.” Tyler smiled and slipped his arm around Sami’s shoulders. “How are things with you and Shelly?”
Marcus furrowed his brow. “I’m trying to figure it out, but it’s not really working. I mean . . . just being around you two, it’s kind of obvious. She’s very young.”
The waitress came, and Marcus ordered a Perrier and lime for Shelly. She returned to the table as the drinks were being delivered. Marcus had no idea how she would react. She looked at the drink and then at him. “Tell me this is a Tanqueray and tonic.”
“Perrier and lime.” He smiled at her. “Come on, Shelly. You’re not old enough. No one else is drinking.”
“Are you serious?” Shelly rolled her eyes. She was clearly frustrated. “I’ve been drinking since I was seventeen. You know that.”
This was getting awkward. It was as if Shelly didn’t remember Tyler and Sami sitting right across from them. “Well. Drinking’s not my thing. I think you know that.”
“Fine.” She raised one eyebrow at him. “Your loss. I’m a better date after a few glasses of wine.”
“I’ll have to settle for sober.” Marcus wished he could dig a tunnel beneath the table, usher Shelly back to the car, and take her home. He smiled weakly at her and then at his friends. “Are we ready to order?”
The entire night continued that way, in fits and starts. Shelly never found the social rhythm that his dates usually found. He felt himself counting down the minutes, glad that it was only a dinner date and not an all-day hike. Something he couldn’t have gotten out of.
Throughout dinner, Shelly hung on his elbow. She would pat his arm and lean up and kiss his cheek. Already people were looking at their table, the way they sometimes did if they recognized him as the pitcher for the Dodgers. But with Shelly acting this way, they drew even more attention. The kind of attention that didn’t seem to have anything to do with his being a baseball player.
Before dinner ended, Shelly looked over her shoulder. “You think the paparazzi might be here? You know, waiting for us outside?” She fixed her hair. “I’ve always wanted to be in the tabloids!”
Marcus folded his napkin on his plate. That was all. He smiled at Tyler and Sami. “Early morning for me tomorrow. Running stairs again.”
“No!” Shelly gasped. Her voice was definitely louder than anyone else’s around them. “Not with your injured leg!”
“My leg’s fine.” Marcus could feel the stares they were getting. “Anyway”—he slid four twenties to Tyler—“this is for the bill. I think we’ll get going.”
Tyler stood and so did Sami. Another round of hugs and Tyler seemed to try to ease the awkwardness. “I have to be in early, too. Fun dinner, though.”
Shelly was still sitting down.
“We’re not leaving! Please tell me we’re not leaving!” Her voice was whiny and high-pitched. She wanted to be noticed. There could be no other explanation. So someone would realize who Marcus was and just maybe take their picture.
Marcus felt anger well up inside him. How could he have thought this would be a good time? He clenched his jaw and reached for Shelly’s hand. “Come on. I really do have an early day tomorrow.”
Thankfully, she stood and slinked up next to him like they were attached at the hip.
“Well, you two lovebirds.” Shelly waved her fingers. “It’s been real!” She nuzzled Marcus’s neck. “Till next time!”
On the way out, Shelly whispered to him, “No one’s home at my house. I planned it that way.”
Marcus ignored her. Dating Shelly reminded him of every wrong girl he’d ever been with. He felt sick about it. What had he been thinking?
Once they were inside his Hummer, Marcus turned to her. “Shelly.”
“Yes, love?” She leaned forward, so her low cut blouse left nothing to the imagination.
Marcus kept his eyes on hers. “Look. Tonight . . . it wasn’t good.”
She seemed to come to her senses. “What do you mean?”
“Everything.” He took a jagged breath. “You seemed really pushy.”
“It’s a date.” She sat back against the passenger door and crossed her arms. “How was I supposed to act?”
Like Mary Catherine, he wanted to say. Instead he found a dose of compassion. “It’s fine. Let’s just go.”
They drove home in silence, and Marcus turned up the radio. Otherwise the silence would’ve been deafening. He kept his right hand on the wheel so she wouldn’t think about trying to hold it. There was no point explaining how he felt. Maybe it wasn’t all Shelly’s fault. Ever since his walk with Mary Catherine, since her question that night, he found himself wondering the same thing. Who was pursuing whom? And why couldn’t he stop comparing Shelly to Mary Catherine?
Marcus walked her up to her front door, but before she could press up against him, he kissed her cheek. “Goodnight, Shelly.”
“Are you breaking up with me?” She batted her eyes. She looked sad, but her eyes were dry.
“We aren’t in an official relationship. We’re just dating.” He slipped his hands into his pockets and walked down the stairs. He didn’t wait for Shelly’s response as he climbed behind the wheel of his SUV and drove off. Only then did he actually feel like he could take a breath. What in the world was he thinking, dating Shelly Wayne? He needed to talk to Coach and explain that things weren’t working with her. And not just because of Shelly’s antics.
But because all night long the face that filled his heart and mind wasn’t Shelly’s.
It was Mary Catherine’s.
17
MARY CATHERINE MET MARCUS in the parking lot of the police station around noon the next day. Despite all her determination to see Marcus in a different light, to remember the way he looked with Shelly fawning over him, she couldn’t get her heart in line.
From the moment he walked up to her she felt the heat in her cheeks. Felt her heart beating faster than before. The faint smell of his cologne made her breathless. Come on, Mary Catherine. She swallowed, desperate for a grip. “I have no idea what to expect.” Her voice sounded shaky. She looked up at him as they reached the door of the station. She needed to keep her mind on the matter at hand. Learning how to work with the girls during their prison visit.
“Can I say something? Before we go in.” Marcus stopped and smiled at her. “You look beautiful. Just didn’t think I should miss the chance to say so.”
She held her breath for a few seconds. “Thank you.” Her rebellious heart soared at his compliment. He looked great, too. Dark blue jeans and a white short-sleeve shirt. But Mary Catherine didn’t dare say so.
Even being attracted to him was wrong. He had a girlfriend, and she had promised God she wasn’t going to date. Not ever. But then why did she feel like this? And why was Marcus making things more difficult by being so kind?
“I heard about your date last night.” Mary Catherine started walking again. She shot him a teasing look. “Sounds like a good time.”
Sami had spilled all the details back at the apartment last night. About Shelly’s request for wine and the way she clung to Marcus throughout the night. Sami had said Marcus couldn’t get out of the restaurant fast enough.
Now Marcus rubbed the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “She’s a lot of work, for sure.”
“Well . . .” Mary Catherine grinned, enjoying the game. As long as she could joke with him, she wouldn’t have to
worry about why it sometimes seemed he felt attracted to her, too. She tilted her head, as if she were genuinely concerned about Shelly and him. “I’m sure you two will figure things out.”
Marcus opened the door for her and they walked inside. At first he looked like he might disagree about figuring things out with Shelly, but before he could speak, Charlie Kent approached them. “Marcus. Mary Catherine.” He held out his hand. “Great to see you both!”
“Thanks.” Marcus took the lead. “Our friends will be here, too. Sami Dawson and Tyler Ames.”
“Great. I’m expecting them.” He checked a clipboard on the nearest table. He scanned the page. “It looks like we have six young ladies going through the program and a dozen volunteers. Those are the numbers we like.”
“We won’t meet the girls tonight, right?” Mary Catherine hadn’t been sure about that.
“No.” Officer Kent smiled. “They’re back at home. Once they agreed to the program, we released them from jail.” He frowned. “Jail and prison are very different. These girls haven’t seen the inside of a prison. This will be an awakening for sure.”
Sami and Tyler arrived and together with the other volunteers they were ushered into a classroom. Officer Kent led the training. “These kids are hard and angry and defeated. The only reason they agreed to this program is it beats serving time. They won’t change easily. That’s important to know.”
Mary Catherine pulled her notebook from her purse and scribbled down everything the officer said. Marcus sat next to her and every once in a while their arms brushed against each other. Mary Catherine discreetly moved her chair a few inches away.
His touch was more than she could take.
Charlie Kent continued, explaining another reality for these girls. “Girls around this age, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen . . . they’ve most likely been sexually abused; many have been raped. More than once for some of them.” He leveled his gaze at them. “You feel good about yourself if you feed a teenager a healthy meal? Parents of these girls feel good if a teenager doesn’t get raped under their roof.” He paused. “They come from broken homes. There’s no supervision much of the time.”
He told a story where he was talking to the stepmother of a girl who had gone through the program a few years ago. “She told me she couldn’t understand why her daughter didn’t want to be at home. She said, ‘She’s been raped by her uncles and cousins. But never at my house. You’d think that would matter to a kid.’ ”
Mary Catherine couldn’t decide if she felt angry or just nauseous.
Dear God, what difference can we make with these girls? What’s the point? She thought about the faces on her refrigerator, the kids from Africa she sponsored each month. I’d be better off going to their village. Building them a home and providing them food and love, she thought. Things were too far gone here.
“You okay?” Marcus whispered to her. He studied her eyes. “This is tough.”
“It is.” She smiled. Why was he so kind to her? “I didn’t know . . . it was so bad.”
“Me either.” He looked sad. “Glad I’m here.”
She nodded.
Charlie Kent explained that another problem was the girls’ dishonesty. “They lie about everything. Just to feel like they have power. They don’t want to share the truth and you can’t force them to. Truth makes them feel vulnerable. Remember that when you get to the group-share part of the program. They have to talk a long time before the walls fall enough for them to be honest.”
Great. Mary Catherine wrote the word liar in her notebook. The girls had been raped and used and sucked into gang activity. They were hard and callused and they wouldn’t tell the truth for a long time, if ever.
So what was the point?
The training went on for another hour. They talked about the EastTown Boyz and the WestKnights, how the gangs formed, what their purposes were, and how easily the younger kids got drawn into joining.
“It’s all these kids know.” Officer Kent folded his arms. “Mom was a WestKnight, Dad was a WestKnight, brother and sister were WestKnights. A kid turns twelve, there’s no question about what his future holds. He’ll be a WestKnight. Unless someone shoots him first.”
Mary Catherine tried to table her discouragement. The training was important. They learned that the EastTown Boyz mainly dealt heroin. WestKnights dealt cocaine. Heroin wasn’t as costly as cocaine but the customers were more desperate.
“For the most part kids in gangs don’t do the heavy drugs, they deal them. They smoke pot and they drink. But the hard drugs are business to them. They get them from the Mexican cartels and entrepreneur street dealers. It’s how gangs stay afloat financially.”
When the training was over, the volunteers each collected a booklet of additional information from Officer Kent. “Read through this. Tomorrow we’ll talk about prison life. You need to know what to expect. After a week or so we’ll give you materials for your group sessions. How to transition these girls from gangs to getting an education and even a job. Practical ways they can find a life outside of what they’ve known.”
Officer Kent also gave each pair of volunteers the name of the girl they’d be working with and her contact information. “We encourage you to reach out before the prison visit Saturday. You can call or text. Just some way so they know you’re there for them. You care. Whether they believe that at first or not.”
Back outside in the parking lot, Mary Catherine and Marcus met up with Tyler and Sami. All of them looked drained. “That was a lot.” Sami linked arms with Tyler. “I didn’t feel ready for this before. But I feel way worse now. How can I help a girl who’s gone through all that?”
“Who’d you get?” Tyler looked from Mary Catherine to Marcus.
“Lexy Jones.” Marcus looked at the information card on the girl. “I think Officer Jag arranged that.”
Mention of the man’s name reminded Mary Catherine she hadn’t talked to Charlie Kent about Jag. Where exactly did he work, and how was he connected to the local department? She turned to Sami. “What about y’all?”
“I love when you say y’all.” Tyler smiled at her. “Just for the record.”
Mary Catherine returned the smile.
“We know, we know.” Sami laughed. “It’s that Southern thing.”
“Exactly.” She grinned. “I can’t help it if y’all weren’t raised right.”
“About our girl.” Tyler looked intently at the information card he and Sami had been given. “Her name is Alicia. She’s fourteen. Arrested for grand theft auto and truancy.”
“Looks like we’ve got the rougher of the two.” Marcus made a face that said how serious things were for Lexy. “Our girl’s connected to one of the most brutal killers on the street.”
“Again . . . how are we supposed to help?” Sami looked lost, like she wasn’t sure she could go through with it.
“I think this is where faith comes in.” Tyler sighed. “I mean, none of us is prepared, but we’re willing. I guess we ask God to make up the difference.”
“He’s right.” Marcus put his hands in his pockets. “Maybe we could do that now?”
“I like it.” Tyler gave Marcus a friendly slap on the arm. “You always have the best ideas, man.”
The group huddled up, their arms around each other’s shoulders. Mary Catherine was between Sami and Marcus, but all she could feel was the way Marcus’s arms felt around her. Strong and warm and secure. She had her arm around his waist. Nothing in all her life had felt so natural and wonderful.
So real.
God, help me . . . I can’t stop these feelings. Mary Catherine closed her eyes, tried everything possible not to think about Marcus beside her. See, God? Nothing works. I can never have this except in random moments. Marcus will never be mine. So please . . . help me keep my distance. Help me keep my wayward heart in line.
Tyler started the
prayer and Mary Catherine did everything she could to focus. Tyler asked God to give them supernatural wisdom and protection, that their efforts might truly change the lives of the girls in the program. Mary Catherine listened and prayed along with Tyler, but she found herself wishing the prayer would go on forever.
When it was finished, and after Tyler and Sami headed for his car, Marcus gave her shoulders a light squeeze. His smile warmed her all the way through. Mary Catherine drew a long breath. “Well . . . I think I’ll go visit Lexy. Take her to Elysian Park for a hike. She doesn’t know me, so she might not want to go. But I want to try.”
“Good idea.” Marcus’s eyes lit up at the idea. “I’ll go with you. I was sort of thinking the same thing.”
“Well . . .” Mary Catherine shook her head. “Maybe not this time.” She willed him to understand. “Sometimes girls open up better to a girl. At least at first.”
Marcus thought about that. “Okay. I guess.” He seemed disappointed. “I really would like to meet her before we see her Saturday morning.”
“Maybe tomorrow.” Mary Catherine folded her arms in front of her. “Thanks for being so kind. And for doing this. It doesn’t seem like it, but I have to believe it’ll help.”
“It has to.” He put his hand on her shoulder, but she was already pulling away.
She waved. “I’ll let you know how it goes.”
He chuckled. “You’re always in a hurry.”
“I guess.” Mary Catherine gave him her best smile. So he wouldn’t know how she was really feeling. “I’ve always got somewhere to be.” She turned for her car. “See you tomorrow!”
“See you.”
Mary Catherine watched him in her rearview mirror. He stood there, watching her until she drove away. Only then did the tears sting at her eyes. She blinked them back. It was nothing to cry over. She would never have Marcus Dillinger. “Come on, MC.” She wiped her cheeks. “Get over it. You’re stronger than that.”
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