Dare to Love

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  She sighed. “Not really. Things are wrapping up here. I should be back at my apartment sometime Sunday evening.”

  “Come on, Andi. Make up something or your mother will be ranting at me all evening for not taking my duty to you seriously.” Pop was joking, Andrea knew, but she was just so tired.

  “I went on a dinner date this week.”

  “You did? Really?” She hadn’t expected her father to be excited at the news. Andrea felt guilty. The only date she’d been on had been with Dave O’Dell. All the other dinners she’d had that week had been business.

  “I did. But before you go getting all excited, you should know that he’s married.”

  “Andrea! What’s the matter with you, girl? Your mother and I didn’t raise you to take what doesn’t belong to you.” Her father’s voice was no longer teasing.

  It was a sign of just how mixed up Andrea really was that she hadn’t realized how her comment would sound to her father.

  “Pop! It’s okay. I only meant that it didn’t amount to anything—that it can’t, because he’s married, not that I’m seeing a married man. He’s safely married. He’s a mentor here just like me and we talked about his wife all night.”

  “Now that sounds more like my girl.” Andrea was relieved to hear Pop return to his normal, easygoing self. Upsetting her father was the last thing she’d had in mind.

  “I just thought you could tell Ma the first part without telling her the rest. You know. Give her a little something to keep her calm for a week or two.”

  There was a pause on the line. “You want me to get her off your back? Her meddling’s starting to get to you again?”

  Andrea smiled and ran her fingers through her bangs, letting them fall back across her forehead. She could always count on her father. “Would you mind, Pop? I know she means well, but I could really use a break if you could manage it.”

  “I’ll see what I can do, hon. Now, do you want to tell me about him?”

  “Oh, Pop. There is no him.”

  * * *

  THE PHONE RANG in Andrea’s room an hour later. She was just drifting off to sleep and considered letting it ring, but she knew she couldn’t. She never could get by the fact that someone might really need her.

  “Hello?”

  “Andrea? It’s me. I have to talk softly because your father forbade me to call, but I just have to know about him. Your father thinks you’ve met someone and he wants me to leave you alone to see what develops, but he doesn’t understand how women are, he never has. Women need to talk about these things, and I knew when I’d heard you’d called that you needed to talk to your mother. I’m just sorry I wasn’t here for you earlier. So quick, before your dad catches me, who is he?”

  Andrea flopped back against the pillows, flinging an arm over her eyes. She was too tired to deal with her mother. When was Gloria ever going to see that she could learn to be happy without a husband and children?

  “His name’s Steve, Ma. He’s been a police officer for several years, he likes what he does and he’s good at it. He doesn’t take crap from people, but he’s still sensitive enough to listen to those in need. You’d like him.”

  “What’s he look like?”

  Andrea tried to get a clear picture in her head. Maybe if she did this well enough, her mother would finally leave her alone, just long enough for her to catch her breath. Then she could arrange to have Steve dump her.

  “He’s cute, in a rugged sort of way. His nose has been broken more than once, but it gives him a roguish kind of look.”

  “Is he good to you? You know there are a lot of men out there who would be intimidated by a lady police officer, especially one as good as you are, baby.”

  “Oh yeah, Ma. He’s great. He respects what I’m doing here. He’s really supportive.” He had to be. He wanted to be a DARE officer. Other than that, she wasn’t sure Steve even knew her last name.

  “Does he like kids?”

  Andrea thought of the report she’d read on Steve almost two weeks before, and of the conversations she’d had with him over the course of the session. “He’s got a daughter,” she said when she finally remembered. “He’s really proud of her, and seems to miss her a lot. Yeah, he really likes kids. He’s a good father.”

  Andrea couldn’t do it. She just couldn’t lie to the woman whose only motivation was to see her happy. “He’s been married three times, Ma.”

  “He’s been divorced three times?” Gloria asked, not nearly as enthusiastically.

  “Yeah, three times, and to be perfectly honest, Ma, I’m not completely sure he’s really over his last wife. She’s remarried and all, but he’s still not at peace with things. As a matter of fact, he’s not from Columbus either, Ma, and you know how long-distance relationships are—they almost never work out. So, now that I think about it, I guess I won’t be seeing Steve again after Sunday.” Andrea held the phone away from her ear, waiting.

  “Andrea Lee Parker, if you ever do find a man, and he does want to marry you and give you babies, I hope you have a daughter who drives you in circles until you’re dizzy....”

  Andrea heard the click loud and clear, but it was another ten seconds before she realized that her mother had actually hung up on her. Astonished, she looked at the receiver, as if it somehow could explain what had just happened. Then she reached over and put it back in its cradle.

  * * *

  “MIND IF I RIDE?”

  His voice came unexpectedly from behind her. Andrea jumped, and her foot slipped from the pedal of the exercise bike. “Feel free,” she panted.

  She tried to concentrate on regaining her footing, but she was aware of every move Doug made as he slipped up onto the bike beside her. He was wearing cutoff sweats and the inevitable T-shirt. Andrea decided that his looks should be registered as a lethal weapon.

  “Do these things work?” he asked. He was studying the control panel between his handlebars. The break in his nose was more obvious from the side.

  “Just...punch in...your weight. It’ll tell you...what to do.”

  She continued pedaling, finding her rhythm again. She’d probably never see him after tomorrow.

  She saw his legs in her peripheral vision as he began pedaling. Up, down, up, down. The muscles in his thighs were clearly defined, tight and hard. She pictured him on her bed, using those muscles to move up, down, up....

  “How long do you normally ride?”

  Her shocked gaze flew to his. He was punching things into his control panel. Oh. Yeah. The bike.

  “Half an hour.”

  “Would you have dinner with me tonight?”

  Andrea lost her rhythm again. The lights on her panel started to blink, indicating that she was losing her speed.

  “Tonight?”

  “I thought maybe we could get away from here and spend a little more time alone together before tomorrow.”

  Tomorrow. Tomorrow they’d be going their separate ways. Tomorrow he’d be gone. The threat he posed would be gone, too. And so would the excitement.

  “I’d like that....”

  * * *

  DOUG DRESSED FOR DINNER before he went to his last training session. Andrea was giving the lecture and they were planning to leave the hotel from there.

  He hadn’t been kidding when he’d told her he’d never really had anything that could be termed a first date. He’d never had predate jitters, or even prepared himself specifically for a woman. But here he was, thirty years old and feeling like he was getting ready for his high-school prom.

  He had one decent outfit besides his blues, and he pulled it out of his duffle bag, disgruntled when he saw how wrinkled the dress slacks and blue oxford shirt were. He phoned down for an iron, and then had to ask the maid how to use it when it arrived. He practiced on a couple of T-shirts, threw the first one away and figured the scorch marks on the second wouldn’t be that obvious, since it was black.

  He didn’t recognize the man who looked back at him from the hotel-room mirror
when he was finally ready to go. But it wasn’t because the clothes were ones he seldom wore, or because he’d brushed his hair until every strand was in place. He’d drawn the line at wearing a tie, so it wasn’t even that he looked all that different. It was something about his face—about his eyes—that he didn’t recognize. He looked almost happy.

  * * *

  “THE HARDEST THING to accept as a DARE officer is the fact that you can’t help them all. You have to know when to draw the line....” Andrea’s words fell on a silent room.

  What the hell? Doug slouched down in his seat in the front row of tables in the meeting room. His chest was growing tighter by the second. These people had just spent two weeks telling him about choices, about survival, about hope. So what in the hell was this?

  “Not all people in this world are good people. Not all children are good children. Not everyone wants to be helped. Sometimes the conditioning has been going on for so many years that by the time we get to them it’s just too late. Sometimes the realities a kid would have to face, the memories of things that have happened to him, are too much. You must be aware of the existence of these young people. You must be able to know when to trust, yet also be aware of the fact that you can’t always. Above all, you must protect the first group from the second.”

  Doug couldn’t believe his ears. He recognized Andrea’s gentle voice, but what was she saying?

  “The pushers in the schools are not slimy men who watch for innocent children on the playground. They are students themselves. Many of them are so bitter they can’t be made to feel guilt or remorse for the kids they lead astray. They care only for their next fix. They’ll lie, they’ll playact, they’ll agree to anything, all the while planning that next snort, or pill, or hypodermic.”

  She was right there.

  “This is when the barriers have to go back up, Officers. Beware of the hard-core druggies. By each one of them, there will be more than ten good kids led astray each year. You cannot afford to waste your compassion on them. In most cases, they won’t even know it if you try. By the time they get to this state, their brains are so fried they can’t even think straight. They need more than a friend. They need more than you are qualified to give them. They kill innocent children every day and don’t give a damn. Don’t ever forget that.”

  Doug sat in his seat while the session was being wrapped up, but he didn’t hear a word of what was said. His heart was turning to stone. She’d told them all to never forget. And dammit, she was right. He never would forget. He might not remember for an hour or two, but ultimately, he would never forget. He unsnapped his wristband, as if he needed the physical reminder to remember all that he’d been.

  He’d been a fool to think he could leave it all behind, to think that maybe he’d paid his dues, that he deserved to share some part of his life with a woman like Andrea. But her words cut through him like a knife. He could never make her his. He could never make her a part of what he was.

  He couldn’t have her. He’d probably known it deep inside all along. It was probably that knowledge that had stopped him from taking her the other night.

  But he didn’t have to watch the admiration in her eyes turn to disgust, either. He’d stay away from her. He’d get out now, before she had a chance to learn who Doug Avery really was.

  Refastening his wristband, Doug left the meeting hall, went to his room and changed back into the jeans and T-shirt that fit him like a second skin. And then, without a word to anybody, he slipped down the back stairs and out into the night. He went back to the only home he’d ever known, to the place where he really belonged, and spent the evening coming to terms with the reality of Douglas Phillip Avery.

  * * *

  DOUG HAD BEEN NINE when he’d first realized that drugs were the most important thing in his life, and eleven the first time he’d nearly killed a guy to get a single fix. By the time he was sixteen, he’d tripped on every hallucinogen known to the ghetto, sometimes more than one at the same time. He was well known to the pushers, and later on, to the dealers. And finally, he’d had the reputation of being a good source himself. He’d stolen from his father, from his neighbors, even from his friends, just to get another fix.

  Doug was a druggie. He’d abused his body so badly that some of the damage was irreparable. He’d developed such a chemical dependence that even though he was straight, he would never be fully over his addiction. There were some drugs, legal drugs, that—were Doug to take them even once—could send him right back to where he’d been at seventeen, nineteen, twenty....

  Doug walked the streets that were as familiar to him as his skin. But he didn’t see the people that were loitering on them, as he had the last time he’d come down this way. Instead, he saw into the past. He saw the Rattlers, his brothers in crime, and the Scorpions, their archrivals. He saw the knives, the blood, the brawls. He saw the hopelessness.

  He saw himself, leaning against a streetlight, ruler of the block, frightening anyone who got too close, so fried out of his mind that he didn’t even know where he was. He saw Chuck, the buddy Steve had portrayed on stage the other day. He saw Chuck’s body, a few years older, contorted with convulsions. He saw Chuck’s funeral. His old buddy had never made it out. But he’d been right about one thing. Doug could make it out—he had.

  And that’s when Doug saw the hope. He’d survived. He’d been there. He’d lived in hell with the worst of them, but he’d made it out.

  He wasn’t in Andrea’s league. He’d done too much, seen too much. He’d been what she despised. But he did have a purpose, an important job to do.

  Doug left his old neighborhood behind and headed back toward the Hetherington Hotel. He was what he was. But there was good in that. He could go out into the schools. He knew what the kids needed, what he’d needed. He knew how to beat it. He was going to get to the next generation of drug users while they still had a chance. He would make a difference.

  * * *

  ANDREA FIGURED there was some kind of irony in it. She wondered if her mother would see the humor. She had finally accepted a date with a man about whom she didn’t feel indifferent. She’d actually been looking forward to it. And she’d been stood up.

  She punched her pillow for the hundredth time, telling herself she wasn’t pretending it was Doug Avery’s face, telling herself she didn’t care that he hadn’t even had the decency to cancel their dinner together. She lay on her stomach. And she lay on her back. And finally she got out of bed.

  It didn’t take her long to slip into a pair of jeans and a faded DARE T-shirt. She didn’t care who she saw in the elevator, or how many revelers there were in the hallways. She had to get out, go for a walk, use up her energy so she could sleep.

  She didn’t care who she saw, until she saw him. She was walking out in the gardens by the pool, trying to convince some of the tranquility surrounding her to seep into her bones, but even in the subdued lighting she knew it was Doug coming toward her. And she knew he hadn’t seen her until it was too late for him to escape. She stood in his way and waited to see what he’d do.

  “Oh. Andrea. Yeah, sorry about tonight. Something came up.” He stopped in front of her, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He looked more preoccupied than sorry. Something strange was going on.

  “That’s all right. Did you eat?”

  “Uh, no. I guess I’ll just order room service.” The scar at his temple stood out as he looked at her and then looked away.

  “They quit serving at ten.”

  “I can always go to the coffee shop. They’re open all night.”

  He was the Doug Avery she’d met two weeks ago. A closed book. Except there was something different about him, too.

  “Would you like some company?” Why was she doing this? Why couldn’t she just let him go?

  He looked back at her, his jaw tight. Andrea wished she knew what was going on behind those inexpressive brown eyes, hoping against hope that she was about to find out.

  “No.
Really, I’d rather not. But thanks. I’ll see ya later.”

  He stepped around her and strode down the path.

  Andrea didn’t bother to brush away the tears that trickled slowly down her cheeks. There was no one there to see them anyway.

  CHAPTER NINE

  GLORIA GOT UP BEFORE dawn Sunday morning. Church wasn’t until ten, and if she was very quiet, the guys would sleep in at least until nine. That gave her just enough time to get across town, take a peek at the DARE trainees at their culmination breakfast and get back before anyone was the wiser.

  She brushed her teeth at the kitchen sink so no one would hear, pulled on the gardening dress she kept hanging in the pantry and slipped out the back door. So far so good.

  She’d waited to hear from her daughter again, waited for Andrea to tell her why she’d really called the other day, but her firstborn had remained frustratingly silent. Something was going on. Gloria could sense it. And she’d never forgive herself if she didn’t do what she could to help her only daughter find happiness.

  Gloria found the ballroom where the breakfast was being held with surprising ease. She felt a twinge of discomfort as she realized that she was hardly dressed like a patron of the hotel, and she didn’t look like one of the staff, either. She’d have to make it quick.

  The door to the ballroom was open, allowing her a clear view of the officers seated inside. She spotted Andrea’s table right off, and had identified Steve and Sven within a matter of seconds. Three other members of Andrea’s team were easily dismissable, being either too old or too obviously married.

  And then she saw him.

  Gloria’s breath caught in her throat as her avid gaze landed on the sixth member of Andrea’s team. Seated directly across from Andrea was the most powerful-looking man Gloria had ever seen. And her daughter was stealing surreptitious glances at him so often it would have been embarrassing if it wasn’t so darn wonderful.

  Gloria felt her own knees get a little shaky as the man glanced up at Andrea. He had enough sex appeal to make ten babies.

  Gloria saw one of the waiters watching her and decided she’d better leave while the going was good. She’d gotten what she came for. She wondered if a little girl with dark brown hair and dark brown eyes would look good in a calico print. Or would solid yellow be better? She’d definitely need dresses. With Andrea’s slender build, no one would be mistaking Andrea’s daughter for a boy....