Everyday Hero

by Jo Leigh

  He brought his head back farther with a sigh, but then the chair skidded backward and he lost his balance. Quickly dropping his hands to brace himself, he nearly tipped over before he could get his feet down squarely on the floor.

  Cursing the way his old man had taught him, he scooted back toward the desk while adjusting the bottom drawer. He stopped when he caught a flash of pink, then pulled the drawer out all the way.

  In the back, behind the files, was a doll. It sure wasn’t anything fancy. Most of the hair was gone, one eye was open, the other shut. Even the little pink dress was torn around the collar. He wouldn’t have given it another thought, except for the name embroidered on the apron: Katie’s Little Angel.

  He reached for the old toy, bringing it out into the light, somewhat surprised that Kate would keep a memento like this for all these years. He hadn’t thought about it much, just assumed she’d been a tomboy. With that athletic build, he would have pegged her for a hellion, a real jock. So what was this about?

  “What are you doing?”

  He jerked up, banging his funny bone on the desk for good measure. Kate stood in the doorway. She looked hot from her run. Her hair was damp around her face and her cheeks were tinged with pink. Not to mention how her T-shirt clung to her various highs and lows.

  “I needed someone to play with.” He cradled the doll in his arms. “Someone who wouldn’t snap at me.”

  She came the rest of the way into the room, moving purposefully toward him. “Put her back,” she said. “You have no business looking through my things.”

  “Hey, it was a joke,” he said, surprised at the vehemence in her voice. “I wasn’t snooping. I came across it by accident.”

  Kate stood right beside the desk and she reached over and grabbed the doll from him. Before he could say a word, she’d shoved him, chair and all, to the side and put the doll back in the drawer. “You had no right.”

  “I’m sorry.” He stood up and touched her arm. When she finally looked at him, he said, “Honest. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

  The anger seemed to leave her, at least the muscles in her arms relaxed. Clearly he’d pushed a big button here. “She means a lot to you, huh?”

  Kate swallowed and then she looked down. “My mother gave her to me. Just before she died.”

  “Ah. I see.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s time for basketball. That is if you’re not too sore.”

  “How old were you?”

  She flashed him a “back off” look. “The kids are waiting.”

  “I bet you were a real beautiful little girl,” he said. “A handful, but a beauty, right?”

  Kate sighed and moved just far enough away so that his hand dropped. “What do you care what I was? You’re just visiting, aren’t you?”

  “You and I both know I shouldn’t have kissed you. Not that it wasn’t great, it was just a mistake.”

  “Right. A huge mistake. A colossal, giant error. Now, can we leave?”

  “Wait a minute. What’s with the anger? I thought we were friends?”

  She stared at him once more and he felt slapped by the look in her eyes. “Friends? I don’t even know you. You’re here for Bobby, nothing else. I’m not interested in you, got it? I’m sure you’re a real stud-muffin back in Hollywood, but here, you’re a guest. Don’t abuse the privilege.”

  He didn’t say anything for a long while. He just watched her, trying to think of some way to respond with at least a bit of dignity. It was no use. “Stud-muffin?” he whispered. “You really think so?”

  She didn’t laugh. But she did smile. A little. “Get out of here, Russo. Stop being a jerk.”

  “You can’t have it both ways, babe. Frankly, I think stud-muffin suits me.”

  “I don’t believe you,” she said, and he noticed a trace of weariness in her voice. That bothered him more than the anger of a moment ago.

  “I’m nothing special,” he said. “Ordinary run-of-the-mill guy with all the attendant guy problems.”

  “No, you’re not. That’s my point.”

  It was his turn to back off. He walked around the desk, over to the small plastic chair by the wall. It was too small to sit in, so he kind of kicked it. “Look, I meant it about this morning. I don’t know what happened, except of course that you’re a very attractive woman. I know I’ve got a job to do here, which doesn’t include seducing the boss. We both have our own lives and whatever happens is going to be over in a few weeks.” He turned to her then. She was leaning against the back wall, fiddling with her whistle. It was clear she was uncomfortable.

  “But that friendship thing has a lot of possibilities,” he said. “I haven’t had many, but none of them have given up on me.”

  The corners of her mouth moved up slightly, then she pushed off the wall and came around to the front of the desk. “The only way we can be friends is if there’s mutual respect. I may not succeed with Bobby, but I’m going to try my damnedest. My methods might not be comfortable for you, but I still need your cooperation.”

  His gaze kept wanting to move to her mouth. It was wildly inappropriate, especially after the speech he’d just given, but the urge to kiss her was back. Stronger than it had been this morning. He cleared his throat, looked her square in the forehead and nodded. “You’ve got it.”

  “All right then. Let’s give it another try.”

  “Basketball?”

  “And after that, dancing.”

  His gaze moved down to her eyes, looking to see if she was pulling his leg.

  “Dancing?”

  “Once a week. Mostly to rap music, but sometimes they let me sneak in an oldie.”

  “Dancing.”

  “Don’t be so scared. You don’t have to do anything but supervise.”

  “Okay then.”

  She walked to the door and opened it, then hesitated. “Watch out for Alice today,” she said. “I caught her ogling.”

  “Well, us stud-muffins are used to that kind of thing.” He walked past her without looking her in the eye.

  “I’m gonna regret that remark for the rest of my life, aren’t I?”

  He nodded. “Till the day you die.”

  Kate grabbed a clean white T-shirt from her drawer and pulled it on. The music had already started; even here in the staff quarters the loud percussion made her mirror quiver. She was glad that it was Wednesday and that the kids would have a chance to wear themselves out on the dance floor. They had so much energy that the strenuous basketball games only left them raring to go. She was another story. The run, then the million laps up and down the court had left her exhausted. What she wouldn’t give for some quiet time to take a nap. Or to think.

  She didn’t want to admit it, but she was still shaken up from this morning. The kiss had caught her completely off guard. She hadn’t wanted it or expected it, but when it had happened, she’d been utterly floored at her reaction.

  She’d thought about it on her run, during the game, even when she and T.J. had that little heart-to-heart in her office. The only conclusion she’d come to was that she’d liked it. A lot. Way too much. Damn it.

  Every time it came to mind, which seemed like every twenty seconds, her active little brain sent signals straight to all her erogenous zones—some she hadn’t realized existed before today.

  The other surprise was that all that running hadn’t done a thing to cool her off. Usually she zoned while running. It was her form of meditation. She’d used it on occasion to rid herself of troubling thoughts and it worked like a charm. It had been a convenience she’d taken for granted since high school and now, for some inexplicable reason, it was failing big time.

  Try as she might, she couldn’t blame the phenomenon on the time of the month or the phases of the moon. It just was. The obvious thing to do was to not think too much about it. Some women might obsess about a guy like T.J., but they didn’t have a job like hers, or a life plan set in concrete, They certainly hadn’t had her experiences with men. No, it was
important to see T.J. as a friend, just like he’d suggested. A buddy. A pal. You didn’t have sex with a pal, right?

  Her reflection nodded in agreement and she left her room. The music swelled as she neared the main room.

  She stopped for a moment at the nursery to check up on Bobby. He didn’t say much, just a sort of snarl actually, but Molly gave her the thumbs-up, so she thought things must be all right.

  Then through the toddlers’ room, where Peter had all the muppets dancing on the floor cushions. At least that brought a smile.

  When she reached her final destination the sound crashed in on her, nearly visible in its intensity. She must be getting old. She could remember going to concerts and not giving one thought to the decibel range. Now she went straight to her office and got a couple of pairs of earplugs, bought strictly for Wednesday afternoons. Once her pair were in place, she snaked her way through the swaying, jerking, bouncing bodies. No one touched—that was a cardinal rule—but the dancing was sexual and raw just the same. She could practically feel the oozing testosterone floating in the crowd, which reminded her that she had to go out and get more condoms for the bathroom. She tried to discourage the teenagers from having sex, but she was a realist. At least, with a proper education, no one would have to die from it.

  She was edging her way around Darnel and Alice, bumping their way to paradise, when she spotted T.J. He was standing casually by the back wall, elbows high, index fingers planted firmly in his ears. It took her several minutes to get to him and by that time, she’d stopped laughing.

  “This is hell!” he screamed. “We’ll all be deaf for the rest of our lives.”

  She held out her hand, offering him his own brand-new pair of earplugs. He grabbed them as if they could save his life. A moment later, he had them properly installed and his grin said all the thank-yous she needed.

  “You don’t like Dr. Dre?” she said, leaning close to him so he would have a chance to hear her.

  “Who?”

  “Dr. Dre. The singer.”

  “This song has a singer?”

  She smiled and leaned back against the wall, keeping her gaze moving over her charges. No one seemed inclined to break the rules. They’d all been here too long for that.

  T.J. moved close, so his mouth grazed her ear, sending yet another unwelcome signal to points south. “How long does this go on?”

  She turned, making sure no part of her body touched his. “Another two hours.”

  He maneuvered back. “I have about six thousand in the bank. If I give it to them, will they stop?”

  Shaking her head, she shouted, “You can leave and come back if you want.”

  “You calling me yellow?” he yelled.

  “Yes!”

  He waited a minute, adjusted his earplugs, then leaned once more. “You’re right. I am yellow. I’m going out.”

  Kate held up her hand. “Wait one minute.” After he nodded, she headed east, fording the river of hot, sweaty bodies until, after much trouble, she reached the jukebox. She pressed nine numbers—three songs—then hit reset.

  By the time she was halfway back to T.J., Salt-N-Pepa had ceased singing and the new record started with a scratch. Elvis took their place to a chorus of groans from the floor.

  T.J. gave her his most brilliant smile as be came toward her. They met in the middle of the dance floor and he took hold of her hand.

  The kids nearest to them backed away, staring at this remarkable event. She looked from her hand to his eyes and that’s when he started. Dancing. Really dancing, like Travolta in Grease.

  He pulled her forward, then under his arm, then twirled her around to face him again. What could she do but join in?

  “It’s been a long time,” she yelled, as he grabbed her other hand and pulled her toward him.

  “It’s like riding a bike,” he said, then spun her again.

  She heard clapping, shouting, catcalls. Several of the girls were pointing at their hands, yelling “Touching! Touching!” In one brief pass, she saw Alice Dee’s murderous glare, but she didn’t care one bit. No one was going to step on her blue suede shoes right now.

  “Where did you learn this?”

  “Right here. The nuns taught me,” he said, releasing her and taking several steps back, clapping to the beat.

  “You’re lying.”

  He walked toward her again, capturing her gaze. “I don’t lie to my friends.” Taking both hands in his again, he pulled her close. Then he just stood there, breathing hard, staring at her like no friend she’d ever had before. Her heart hammered in her chest and she wasn’t sure of her breath.

  There was only one thing she was sure of—she was falling for T.J. Russo like a ton of bricks.

  The arsonist struck again two weeks later. The convenience store owner, Reuben Sanchez, was killed with a single bullet from a .45. The cash register was empty and the store consumed by fire by the time the Harbor Bay Fire Department arrived. Mrs. Sanchez and her six children had been in Los Angeles for the night.

  T.J. put the newspaper down. He’d read the front-page article twice, even though he’d heard about the fire and the murder from the police at five this morning. Someone had left an anonymous tip that Bobby had been at the scene, so they’d come to talk to him. Only Bobby hadn’t been here. He’d snuck out of the center sometime after eleven. T.J. glanced at the clock on the wall. It was 6:48 and still no one had heard from the boy. Maybe he was on his way to Mexico. Maybe he was dead.

  “How long have you been sitting here?”

  He didn’t have the energy to turn, even at the sound of Kate’s voice. “A while.”

  “How about I make some more coffee?”

  He nodded. She came around in back of him and touched his shoulder lightly as she passed. He recognized the gesture of friendship and concern, but it was an intellectual knowledge that had nothing to do with him.

  “You don’t know that he’s involved,” Kate said softly as she poured the water into the coffee maker.

  “Don’t,” he said. “It’s damn clear where he was last night.”

  “Not necessarily.”

  “Sure,” he said, flinching at his own sarcasm.

  The sound of the coffee can hitting the counter jarred him, then he just settled further down on the chair and stared once again at the picture of the burned shell of a building that had already ended one life and would probably end more before it was over.

  Kate pulled out the chair next to him. “Look at me.”

  He did. He wanted to fall into the green, sympathetic eyes. To hide there and never come back.

  “This isn’t the only time Bobby’s been out all night. It’s happened before. I know, I probably should have told you, but I learned it in confidence and I thought it best to keep it that way.”

  “You what? You didn’t think it was important to tell me my brother’s been out running with that damn gang? What the hell am I doing here, then? Will you tell me that?”

  She shook her head and reached for his hand. He pulled it back.

  “I don’t think he’s been with the gang,” she said.

  “Oh, come on.”

  “I think he’s been staying with your mother.”

  T.J. stood up, sending his chair crashing backward. “You can’t tell me you believe that.”

  “I do.”

  “Did you ask her?”

  “No.”

  “Then how—”

  “Molly told me.”

  “Ah, well then. No sweat.”

  Kate stood and moved in on him. He forced himself to stand still.

  “Listen to me, damn it. Gus has been acting up. Bobby’s been frightened for your mother and he’s snuck out a few times to stay with her. That’s all. I’m sure that’s where he is now.”

  “Did you call?”

  “There was no answer.”

  “And all this was going on and no one thought I should know. That’s what you’re saying, right?”

  “Molly’s bee
n trying to get Bobby to tell you himself. She thought it was important.”

  “He’ll have plenty of time to talk to me from prison.”

  “He’s not going to jail.”

  T.J. turned away, it was too painful to see her face. “You’re being naive,” he said.

  “There’s a difference between trust and naiveté, T.J.”

  “If wishes were horses, beggars would ride, kiddo. There are no ponies here.”

  He waited for her to speak again and when the silence became too heavy to bear, he turned. The sadness in her face cut him like a knife; he took no satisfaction in the victory.

  “Bobby Sarducci is his father’s son,” he said softly. “Some things are too big to fight.”

  Kate closed her eyes briefly, then focused in on him once again. “We’re friends, right?”

  He nodded.

  “All right then. I want you to do something for me. As my friend.”

  He crossed his arms, waiting.

  “I want you to believe in me. I know you can’t believe in Bobby yet, so I won’t ask you to. But I want you to trust me, even though you have no reason to.”

  “And?”

  “And act as if Bobby is innocent.”

  “I don’t know that I can.”

  She stepped closer to him. She had on jeans and a tank top and he noticed she wasn’t wearing a bra. He could see the sharp points of her nipples through the fabric. His groin tightened even as he knew this wasn’t the time or the place. Shifting his gaze, he looked at her face—no makeup, her hair a tousled red mess, her skin pale under the fluorescent lights. The tightness got worse, not better.

  “Try,” she said softly, touching his arm with her fingers. “Try it for me.”

  “You’re asking a lot.”

  “No more than you can give.”

  He shook his head. “You don’t know me very well.”

  “I know you love Bobby. I know you care.”

  He reached out and touched her bare arm. He ran his fingers lightly down her cool soft flesh. When she didn’t back away, he moved up to her cheek and caressed her slowly. He wanted her. So much it was painful.