by Francis Ray
“Do mine without the tire tube around my belly,” Bobby said, making people laugh.
“You did a great job, Jason.” Simon now held the pad in his hands. “If you ever think of selling these, please let me know. My tenure here isn’t permanent and I’d like to have this.”
Maureen’s heart clutched. How could she have forgotten he would be leaving soon?
“You’d buy them?” Jason asked, surprise and delight on his young face.
“Yes.”
“Can I think about it?” Jason asked.
“Sure.” Simon handed back the sketch pad. “Maureen knows how to contact me. In the meantime, both teams are going out for burgers. On me.”
Several of the Sharks asked to ride in Maureen’s car. “We may have to draw straws. Now, hit the shower.” Simon turned to her as the team ran to the shower. Miguel followed, no longer limping. “Why the sad face?”
“I’d forgotten you’re leaving soon.”
“Myrtle Beach is less than two hours away, and I’m here now.”
Maureen smiled, but her heart wasn’t in it.
“Honey, what’s the matter?”
Maureen wasn’t surprised that Simon knew she was worried. She’d been quiet during the celebration. Once they were back at her house, she had gone into his arms, almost desperate for his touch. He hadn’t questioned her need then, but now he wanted answers. Answers she wasn’t sure she wanted to give.
“Maureen, what is it?”
Facing him in the dark, their heads on the same pillow, one of his hands swept languidly up and down her arm, his other hand played with her hair. Simon might not touch much in public, but when they were alone he couldn’t seem to stop himself.
“Are you worried about the stalker?”
“No.” There was no way she’d have him worry needlessly.
She heard the rustle of the bedding. The bright light on the night chest came on. She saw a magnificent display of Simon’s muscled back, the beginning curve of his buttocks before he adjusted the three-way light to its lowest setting.
He sat on the side of the bed. “Then what?”
She reached out to run her hand across the muscled warmth of his chest. At times she couldn’t believe he was with her when he could be with another, younger woman.
His hand caught hers, kissed her palm. “I think I’ve already shown I’m not good at guessing what a woman is thinking. Brooke says I’m a lost cause.”
She shivered from his warm breath, the lick of his tongue. “You’ll be leaving soon.”
“Ah, honey.” He came down on the bed, brushing his hand across her face. “I’ll be ninety minutes away.”
“You’ll be busy. Things will come up,” she mumbled, glancing away, not wanting him to see how frightened she was that he wouldn’t come back to her once he left.
Palming her face, he stared down at her. “Nothing is going to come between us. Nothing.”
“But—”
“No buts,” he talked over her. “I didn’t want to tell you, but I’ve already asked for a transfer.”
Happiness flooded her, then remorse. “You’re happy in Myrtle Beach. Your other three brothers are in the police force with you.”
“There’s a lot for me to do here,” he told her. “I won’t regret moving here.”
She bit her lower lip, tried to keep the question inside, but it was useless. “Are you moving here because of me?” As soon as the words left her mouth, she wished she could recall them. What if—
“Yes.”
“Simon.” She launched herself in his arms, her mouth seeking and finding his. Heat splintered through her. She welcomed it, embraced it.
He covered her body, surging into her waiting heat. She held him tight as his powerful body surged again and again into hers, taking her higher and higher until her body stiffened and her release came. He dropped his head into the curve of her neck and found his own release.
A long while later he rolled over with her in his arms. He kissed her cheek. “I’d better get going.”
Her arms tightened. “If Ryan is with Traci, why can’t you stay with me?”
“We both know why.” He kissed her again. “He’s still getting adjusted to us being together.”
“Do you want to leave?”
“No.”
She snuggled closer. “Then you don’t have to. Traci said they were going straight to her house and both cars were going in the garage.”
“That means—”
“Yes.” She bit his lower lip. “Let’s not waste any more of it.”
Insatiable.
She’d been insatiable last night with Simon. Shameless even. And he had been the same way. Smiling to herself, Maureen unlocked the door to Forever Yours. She hadn’t let her age interfere and she damn well wasn’t going to let the insidious hot flashes interfere. If Elisa would come out of hiding and give herself up, Maureen wouldn’t have a care in the world.
Putting her purse away in her office, she heard the opening of the front door. They weren’t due to be open for another twenty minutes. Perhaps it was Jason. He’d still been riding high on the praises of his sketches when she’d dropped him at his house last night. He couldn’t stop talking. Maureen smiled. People having confidence in you did wonders for self-esteem.
Entering the main store, her heart lurched. It was Jason all right, but a uniformed policeman held him firmly by the arm. Neither was smiling. “What’s going on? Let him go.”
“You might not be so quick to say that once you learn he’s been using this shop as a front to sell drugs.”
“You’re crazy!” Jason yelled.
“That’s impossible,” Maureen said. “Jason would never do anything like that.”
“He was about to enter the shop when I came up. Why don’t we see?” The policeman pulled the backpack from Jason’s back, then emptied the contents on top of a dresser. Besides the books, there were several rolls of notebook paper. His accusing gaze went to Jason.
“That’s not mine.” The teenager looked wildly at Maureen. “That’s not mine!”
“It’s just notebook paper, Jason,” Maureen said, not understanding why he’d become so upset.
“It’s more than that.” The policeman used two ballpoint pens to unroll the paper. Inside lay a thin line of a brownish, powdery substance. “It’s cheese, a new form of drugs that combines heroine and Tylenol PM. It’s very addictive.”
Jason bolted for the door. The policeman caught him, easily overpowering Jason’s frantic struggles to handcuff him. “Jason Payne, you’re under arrest for selling controlled substances. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you.”
“I didn’t do anything!”
Maureen was momentarily stunned, speechless.
“Be thankful you didn’t get swept up in this mess, Mrs. Gilmore.” The policeman led Jason to the door.
“How? How did you know?” she finally asked.
“We received a tip,” the policeman explained. “Unfortunately, the drug is gaining in popularity and, since it’s cheap, more and more kids are trying it out. Good-bye.”
Maureen stared at the closed door, watched as the policeman put Jason in the police car and people stopped to watch. Her good day had just been shot to hell.
“He made his bed, and now he has to lie in it.”
Maureen stared at the receiver. Jason’s mother had hung up on her.
“Is she going down there?” Henrietta asked. She’d rushed into the shop just as the police drove off.
“No.” Maureen hung up the phone.
“What?” Henrietta snapped. “That kid is too scared to do something stupid like that.”
“He stole an inkwell,” Maureen reminded her.
“For his mother’s birthday.”
“How did you know that?” Maureen asked.
Henrietta folded her thin arms. “The day you came back from being sick and you made a big fuss over that sketch, he was mumbling t
hat you were trying to fake him out. He’d given a similar sketch to his mother for her birthday and she had washed it in her jeans. He didn’t blame her because he thought it was a stupid, worthless gift.”
“Oh, Henrietta.” Maureen’s heart went out to Jason.
“Some women don’t deserve children.”
Maureen gently placed her hand on the other woman’s tense shoulder. Henrietta was childless. “That’s why we’re here. To help take up the slack.”
“Then you’re going?” she asked.
“As soon as I can get Traci.”
“Why Traci and not Simon?” Henrietta wanted to know.
“Because I don’t want Simon mixed up in this. Because Traci is a lawyer and knows her way around a police station.” Maureen collected her handbag. “I’ll call.”
“I don’t believe Jason did it either.”
Traci strode beside Maureen on the way to the holding cell and Jason. “He’s too insecure and shy.”
“We’ll get to the bottom of this,” Maureen said.
“That we will,” Traci promised. “The cell isn’t pretty, so prepare yourself.”
“He must be terrified.”
“He has a right to be.” The words were barely out of Traci’s mouth before she saw Jason huddled in a corner. At least he was in a cell by himself. Front-row tickets to ball games did wonders, she thought. “Thanks, Myers. I owe you.”
The jailer nodded, then stepped aside.
“Jason.”
His head came up and he almost fell in his haste to reach them. He looked down the corridor they’d come from. “Where’s Mama?”
“She—she—” Maureen bit her lip.
“We’re here,” Traci said, realizing Maureen wasn’t going to be able to tell Jason the truth. “You want to tell us how those drugs got in your bag?”
Tears rolled down his cheeks and he wiped them away. “I don’t know. I— You believe me?”
“I wouldn’t walk out on a client like Clint Herd if I didn’t,” Traci told him. Clint was one of the good guys. With three sons of his own, he’d understood why Traci had to leave.
“The football player?” Jason asked, awe replacing fear in his voice.
“The same. Now, back to you. Maureen said you keep your backpack in her office, so no one could have gotten to it. After work, you two went directly from the store to the game.” Traci frowned. “I don’t remember seeing it at the game last night.”
“It was on the floor of the backseat of Mrs. Gilmore’s car,” he told her. “There’s so much room back there, I didn’t think of moving it. I’d already finished my homework assignment so I didn’t unload it when I got home last night. Just picked it up and left this morning.”
“Then the only time it was out of your sight was in the car to or from the restaurant,” Traci said. “Who was in the car that might have it in for you? Who would have a reason to frame you?”
“Miguel,” Maureen and Jason said at the same time.
He’d been consulted last.
Simon didn’t know how to take that. If there hadn’t been a need to fingerprint the notebook paper ASAP, he wasn’t sure they would have come to him at all. That hurt.
“What’s taking so long?” Maureen asked, her arms wrapped around herself. “He is so scared.”
“It’s only been five minutes.” Simon watched Maureen pace. He went to her and circled her waist with his arms.
She looked up at him. “What?”
“Why didn’t you come to me first?” he asked.
“Macho time. I’ll be at the vending machine.” Traci quickly left.
“Simon, it should be obvious.”
“Like I said, I’m slow.”
A smile curved her soft mouth as her arms circled his neck. “You’re not slow. You’re brilliant.”
“Then why didn’t you call me instead of Traci when this went down?” he asked, unable to keep the bite out of his voice.
Her brow arched. “Simon, surely you don’t feel slighted?”
“I’m trying not to,” he told her truthfully.
“I didn’t want you involved,” she told him. “The policeman insinuated that I was lucky not to be dragged into it. Apparently, the tipster insinuated I might be involved.”
“What?” His hands tightened. “You didn’t mention that before.”
“Because I knew you’d worry.”
“I care about you, I’m supposed to worry, especially if my association with you had anything to do with this,” he told her.
She held up both hands. “Now, wait a minute. If we’re right, Miguel’s vindictiveness caused this. Don’t you dare blame yourself, or I won’t tell you anything else.”
“There’s more?” he asked.
“Well, not now,” she said. “I’m talking future tense. I hope you don’t, because I like talking to you.”
“And apparently trying to protect me,” he said.
“It seemed the thing to do.”
The phone on his desk rang. He picked it up. “Dunlap. Yeah, what do you have? Thanks.” He hung up. “Miguel’s prints were the only ones found on the paper.”
“He’s innocent.”
Jason’s mother didn’t react at Maureen’s statement. When they’d approached her at the grocery store where she was the assistant manager, her lips had tightened, then she had directed them to an office filled with lockers, a time clock, and cardboard boxes. “So what happened?”
Traci explained about Jason’s fingerprints not being on the paper. They belonged to another boy that the police were going to investigate. There was no need to mention that Simon had used his influence to get the arresting officer not to charge Jason with resisting arrest.
“He had better keep it that way,” his mother said. “You go straight home, and don’t leave the house until I get there.”
Jason tucked his head. “Yes, ma’am.”
Traci’s temper spiked. “What kind of mother are you?”
The other woman unfolded her arms. “You don’t question me.”
“Tra—” Maureen began.
“Someone should,” Traci talked over Maureen. “He’s scared to death. If Maureen hadn’t been on his side, he’d be looking at a long jail sentence for something he didn’t do.”
“So you want a pat on the back?” his mother asked sarcastically.
“I want you to act like a mother who loves him,” Traci shot back. Jason’s mother was too much of a reminder of Traci’s uncaring mother. Every child deserved to know they were wanted and loved.
“If I didn’t love him, I would have left him at the hospital,” she said, her voice shaking. “His daddy had walked. I didn’t have a job and my family wouldn’t help me because they’d told me not to marry Jason. I wouldn’t listen.”
Traci figured out what Jason’s mother didn’t say. “Since you couldn’t punish the father you named the son after him and have been punishing his son.”
“He’s the spitting image of his father,” Jason’s mother said, not denying Traci’s statement. “He’s not going to walk over me like his father did.”
“But he’s had you to raise him, teach him.” Maureen stepped forward. “He’s courteous, well spoken. I didn’t call the police when he took the inkwell, an inkwell he wanted for your birthday, because I sensed something good in him.”
Jason’s mother’s eyes went to him. “You took that for me? You gave me the drawing of the flowers.”
“You didn’t keep it.” His hands went deeper into his pockets. “Just like the other ones I gave you.”
“A black man can’t make a living drawing. How many times have I told you to stop wasting your time,” she said, frustration in her voice.
“He’s not wasting his time,” Maureen quickly defended. “He has talent.”
“And that will get him exactly nowhere,” his mother told them. “At eighteen he’s out of my hair, so he better make the most of the time left by getting his grades up so he can go to a trade school. I’m not
going to support him.”
“I love you, Mama. I’m sorry if having me made you unhappy and ruined your life.” His head fell.
“Don’t you talk to me that way,” she said. “I worked two jobs for the pay of one to keep you with me, to feed you so you’d grow up to be somebody. I didn’t coddle you. I’m making you a man. This is for your own good.”
“Men need love, too,” Simon said. “My parents and grandparents always made sure me and my brothers always knew that.” He grabbed Maureen and Traci’s arms. “We’ll take him home.”
“You think I’m a bad mother. I could care less what you think,” she snapped.
“What about what Jason thinks?” Traci said, resisting Simon’s tug on her arm.
“He’s never gone hungry or been ashamed of the clothes he’s had to wear,” his mother told them. “We moved here for a better life.”
Neither had Traci, but it hadn’t substituted for a mother’s love. If not for her grandfather, she wasn’t sure how she would have turned out. “Jason, wait outside with Maureen and Simon.”
The teenager left without looking back. Maureen looked a bit uneasy, but she left with Simon. Traci waited until the door closed. “Don’t let him continue thinking he was a mistake, that raising him is a duty instead of a pleasure, that you can’t wait for him to leave, that his dreams don’t matter.”
“You can stand there and say that with your expensive clothes,” she sneered. “I work for everything I have.”
Traci got in her face. “So did I. My grandfather worked his farm from the crack of dawn until late at night so I could have an education. He wanted me to go further than the eighth grade, which was all the schooling he had. When I went to college, there was no scholarship or student loans. I carried a full load of courses and worked my butt off. It was the only way.”
Traci swallowed. “I worked hard for two reasons: to make my grandfather proud and make my mother finally say she loved me. She never did, and now I wouldn’t walk across the street to give her a glass of water if she were dying of thirst.”
Jason’s mother’s eyes widened.
“Keep pushing Jason away and treating him the way you do, and you’ll lose him.” Traci went to the door. “You have a chance to get to know a shy, sensitive young man, a young man you helped create and mold into the person he is. Blow it and you only have yourself to blame.”
