Dirty Cops Next Door

by Summer Cooper

  She felt like she was racing as she scrubbed her face, washed her hair and drew it back tightly. Her curls had a way of escaping in the summer heat, and the last thing she needed was for this Mack person to think it would get in the coffee. A quick application of makeup, something to hide the circles under her eyes, and Cara slid into her interview clothes. She sighed with relief when she saw the time. She was going to be early. She liked being early.

  For all the good it did when you worked in food service.

  “Where are we going?” Darren asked curiously as they left. His latest book, something about space travel, was tucked under his arm. Cara tried not to let him see the wistfulness in her eyes when she looked at it, or read to him. Maybe someday Darren would have everything she’d dreamed of for herself. The thought roiled in her chest, as sweet as it was painful.

  “The Financial District. I’d be making coffee for stockbrokers.” Cara hurried them down to the subway station near their house. She checked her phone, and suppressed a grimace; no call from Craig. Typical.

  She flushed with shame to remember the call she’d made last night. She knew he’d be able to tell she was crying, and she’d begged him for money. She hadn’t ever begged before. She had screwed up her courage and whispered the plea, over and over, thinking it was all worth it if Darren had food and shelter.

  And Craig didn’t even respond.

  “Mom? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, sweetheart.” Cara brushed a tear from her cheek. “I’m just tired.”

  “You say that a lot,” Darren said softly.

  “It’ll be okay,” Cara promised him. “This way.”

  Up the stairs and off the train, and there it was: Best Beans, with a perky little logo of a coffee tree. Cara squared her shoulders and took Darren’s hand as she pushed her way into the store, edging around a line of people in expensive suits. Suddenly her best clothes felt inadequate. She could feel their eyes flicking over her: from the red-brown hair she hadn’t styled, to the blue eyes without makeup, and the lack of jewelry. The looks said she didn’t belong here.

  “Cara?” A lanky man with white-blond hair held out his hand. “I’m Mack.”

  “Hello, Mr. Nelson. Sweetheart, can you sit over there? I’m really sorry; I hadn’t arranged for a sitter today.” The polite lie tumbled off her tongue without even a flicker of her expression. Successful people had sitters.

  “Of course.” Mack’s eyebrows rose as Darren settled down quietly and began to read. “Do you think you could teach my kids to do that?”

  “I got lucky,” Cara said softly, feeling a smile tug at her lips as she watched her son. “He’s a good boy.” And she would fight to the death for him to have the opportunities she had squandered.

  “Seems it. Now, Ms. Ford, have you ever worked in a coffee shop before?”

  “No,” Cara admitted. There was a sinking feeling in her stomach. “But I assure you, Mr. Nelson; I am a very quick learner. I’m neat; I’ll be a hard worker—”

  “Oh, you come with glowing recommendations,” Mack assured her.

  “I… meant to ask about that. Who recommended me?”

  “For HR reasons, we can’t really discuss that. I hope you understand. Now, here, let’s go behind the counter and I’ll run through some of the tasks with you, see how you do. Sound good?”

  “Sure,” Cara said warily. This was too easy.

  Steaming milk, however, was not as difficult as she had imagined. Under Mack’s instruction, she ground coffee beans, refilled the dark roast pot, and restocked the refrigerators under the counter. By the end of it she was sweating, and she was sure she remembered none of it—but Mack nodded, seeming pleased.

  “I think you’ve gotten the hang of it.”

  “Oh, good.” Cara patted at her hair. “I’ll, uh… thank you for the opportunity. I’ll wait to hear from you.”

  “No need.” The man smiled at her easily. “The job is yours if you want it.”

  Cara stared at him. This wasn’t just too easy—it was much, much too easy.

  “Why?” She asked him finally.

  “You’re competent, you’re pleasant to speak to, and you come recommended. Making coffee isn’t very difficult—but good employees are few and far between.” He waited.

  “I… I guess I’ll take it.” Cara shook her head, then remembered her manners. “Thank you very much for the opportunity, sir.”

  “Don’t mention it. Your first shift will be tonight, starting at 5. People in finance work late and we—” he grinned at her “—keep them awake.”

  Cara smiled. She nodded, said her good-byes, and fled, terrified that if she stayed a moment longer, he’d realize he had made a mistake and take the job away again. She was so absorbed that she nearly ran full-on into Lexie.

  “Cara! You look nice.” Lexie smiled, and gave a little wave at Darren. “Hi, champ.”

  “Hi, Lexie.”

  “Come here often?” Cara asked.

  “Eh, sometimes. My parents live around here, so I stop for coffee sometimes.”

  “Did you… I mean, thanks. For recommending me.”

  “I didn’t recommend you.” Lexie shook her head, wide-eyed. “But whoever did, maybe they’d recommend me, too? Making coffee can’t be that much more difficult than cooking eggs.”

  “I think it would be less difficult,” Cara said, smiling. “Maybe they’re hiring for more than one job. You might as well go check.”

  “Sure. Well, thank your mystery person when you see them. And… hi, Perry!”

  “Lexie.”

  The smooth voice sent Cara’s stomach plummeting. She waited until Lexie had made her way inside, and then she turned; eyebrow raised.

  “Mr. Hammond.”

  “Cara.” He smiled at her, and his eyes flicked to Darren. “Hello. I’m Perry.”

  “I’m Darren,” the boy said. He smiled.

  “What are you reading about?”

  “Space travel. Mom likes to read about science. She used to be studying robotics.”

  “That’s enough, sweetheart,” Cara said, panic swamping her as Perry’s eyes flicked up to hers. “It was nice to see you, Mr. Hammond, but I have to go.”

  “Certainly. I, uh…” He looked flustered, all of a sudden.

  “Yes?” Cara prompted him.

  “I don’t suppose you’d consider going to dinner with me.”

  “I…”

  “You should go,” Darren piped up, “I like him.”

  “Yes, sweetheart.”

  “Maybe tomorrow night?”

  “I don’t know when I’ll be working,” Cara said honestly. She didn’t like that she wanted to say yes. Everything in her head screamed for her to run—that men like this couldn’t be trusted. That they were too powerful to understand the real world.

  “Ah.” Pleasure lit in his eyes. “You got the job, then.”

  The bottom of her stomach dropped out, and anger followed quickly. After the confused tumult of feelings, the rush of rage was simple, easy to understand—and welcome. Cara felt her teeth clench.

  “You recommended me?”

  “In a manner of speaking. I simply told Mr. Smith that this coffee shop would be happy to hire people displaced when the diner closed. He recommended you.”

  “And now you want to go to dinner,” Cara said. Her heart was beating very fast.

  “Well, I… I wanted to go to dinner with you last night, but it seemed a bad time.”

  “So you got me a job and now you want a favor in return.”

  “It’s not like that at all.”

  “Sure it isn’t.” Cara’s mouth twisted. “Goodbye, Mr. Hammond.”

  “Where are we going?” Darren demanded as Cara pulled him away. “Aren’t you going to—?”

  “No.”

  “But I liked him,” Darren said plaintively.

  “No,” Cara whispered again. Another dinner, another man pretending to care about robotics, about Darren, about Cara’s dreams. And then, i
nevitably, the betrayal. She barely had enough left in her to make it to work in the mornings. She could not live with more heartbreak.

  3

  “Please, just a few more days,” Cara begged.

  “It’s been three months,” the woman said. Her eyes were hard.

  “You don’t understand.”

  “You don’t understand. I’ve seen a hundred like you. Never enough money, always a kid to feed. I give you another month, and you’ll only be behind then, too. And if I let you all do this, you know what? I’ll end up on the street.”

  “You can’t do this,” Cara whispered.

  “You’ve lived in New York how long?” The landlady asked her.

  “Seven years.”

  “Not long enough to learn your lesson.” The woman shrugged her shoulders. “You let your head go under; you’ll never come back up. You should run back to…” Her eyes raked over Cara. “Vermont? Indiana?”

  Cara did not bother answering.

  “We’ll be out by tomorrow.”

  “You’ll be out tonight. Get your things.”

  “I can’t hire movers tonight!”

  “Well, take what you can carry.”

  The door slammed, and Cara gave a little cry.

  “Mom?”

  “It’s going to be okay, Darren.” She said feeling terrified. “It’ll be okay.”

  She always said that. And it was never true. She couldn’t cry, couldn’t cry… Her stomach rumbled and she swallowed hard.

  “I packed my things,” he said tentatively. “I didn’t know which of yours to pack.”

  And at that, Cara did cry. She slid down the wall and buried her face in her hands and felt the tears take her, wracking sobs that shook her body and tore themselves out of her mouth until her throat was raw. She felt Darren’s arms around her, and she wanted to scream at everyone, at the world, at God for letting this happen. A child shouldn’t have to know to pack his things in the middle of the night. He shouldn’t have to leave everything behind, again and again and again.

  She should give him up for adoption. The thought was so terrifying that Cara gave a whimper, wrapping her arms around Darren and holding him tight; fingers digging into his back until she felt him squirm. It would be better for him…

  And it would kill her. She tried to calm herself, but the tears kept coming—harder, now. She was selfish, stupid, a failure. The words marked her steps as she walked to work, as she poured coffee, as she trudged home at night. They haunted her when she snatched an extra packet of ramen off the shelf and put it in her pocket, and they resounded in her head when she lay awake, stomach twisting with hunger.

  The words hit her afresh now, swamping her. The landlady was right. Cara was drowning, and she was taking Darren with her. And that, she could not allow herself to do. Which meant there was only one thing to do: go to Craig’s parents. Beg. Accept every single insult they could throw at her, because there was nothing more important than Darren. He would grow up well-fed. He would hate her. He would hear every day that she was a failure.

  But he would survive.

  She would go now, before she lost her nerve.

  And then her fingers clenched around him again, and Cara looked at the clock, tears blurring her eyes. 12:45AM. They’d be in a worse mood if she woke them up now, she told herself. One more night. She’d keep Darren with her for one more night. Bargaining with the inevitable, but she was too selfish to let him go yet.

  “We should go.”

  “Where?”

  “We’re…” Don’t let him see. “We’ll go to the coffee shop for the night.”

  “Are we allowed to do that?”

  “We’ll have to be very careful,” Cara said, her heart breaking and tears welling up in her eyes even as she tried to smile. “I need you not to go in the kitchen when we get there, okay? Everything has to stay clean.”

  “I’ll be good.”

  Oh, God, she could not do this. “I know you will, sweetheart.”

  Cara pushed herself up and went to the bedroom. Her clothes, she rolled and stuffed into a backpack. A little box with a necklace from her father, a bracelet of her mothers. A tiny stuffed bear; the last thing she had left to remember her sister. On impulse, she went to the kitchen and took a mug from the cupboard—her favorite, blue with stars. She pulled the loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter out of the cupboard, then stuffed their toothbrushes and her makeup into a plastic bag.

  “Ready to go?”

  Darren looked around the apartment, and squared his little shoulders. “Ready.”

  “You’re being so brave,” Cara told him as they walked. She looked down at him and tried to smile.

  “You’re braver,” Darren said promptly. He huddled against her as they passed by alleyways. A few people still on their landings looked up blearily. The smells of alcohol and cigarette smoke swirled through the air, and Cara wanted to cry at the thought of Darren seeing all of this. He should be home in bed.

  Tomorrow night, he would be. Her fingers clenched, and she uncurled them with an effort. It was best, she told herself.

  At the inner gate of the coffee shop, she paused uncertainly. Mack would see all of this tomorrow. The security cameras were state of the art, and the lights never went out in this building. Though there might be hundreds still at work above her, the throngs had long since cleared, and the place seemed like something out of a horror movie—creepily deserted. Well, there was nothing for it. She just had to hope Mack didn’t fire her.

  A small voice in her head told her that after tomorrow, it would not matter very much. Cara tried to ignore it.

  “Hello?”

  The voice startled her so much she dropped the keys. They clanged to the floor and she whirled, her heart in her throat. When she saw who it was, her shoulders slumped.

  “Hello.”

  “Hello,” Perry Hammond said easily. He looked at them. Looked at the suitcases in their hands. And then he smiled at Darren. “Little man, would you give me a moment alone with your Mother?”

  “Um…”

  “It’s okay, Darren.” Cara could feel herself shaking. She squeezed his fingers. “Why don’t you go look at the fountain?”

  “Sure,” Darren said. He trailed away, looking nervously over his shoulder.

  “We got off on the wrong foot,” Perry told her. His eyes were dark, and there was something in his expression she could not name. “But I promise you; I wish only to help.”

  I don’t need help. But the words of her tired refrain would not come. She did need help. She only stared at him.

  “I have a guest bedroom,” Perry told her softly. “Please, Cara. Don’t be too proud to take help.”

  “I have no pride left,” Cara told him, and to her surprise, a smile split his face. Genuine, and filled with humor.

  “That,” he said, “I will never believe.” Then his face softened. “Just for tonight. Will you accept my help?” He saw her waver. “No strings attached.”

  He was lying. She knew he had to be lying. And yet her heart didn’t believe that. She really was just as stupid as they were going to call her tomorrow. She always fell for the wrong guys.

  “Okay.” Throwing away everything. Accepting whatever would happen. “Darren. We’re going to stay with Mr. Hammond tonight.”

  The cab ride was silent, Cara knowing that her son was terrified, and having no words to reassure him. She could not even reassure herself. Perry, meanwhile, looked out the window as if he could not sense the thinly veiled panic in the car. He tipped the cab driver as exorbitantly as he’d tipped Cara the night he came to the diner, and led them to a chrome-plated elevator in a gleaming lobby.

  “Mr. Hammond,” a bell boy said, smiling.

  “Good morning, Tobey. This is Cara, and Darren.”

  “Pleased to meet you.” Tobey held the door for them and pressed 27, then waved to Perry as the doors closed.

  Cara wanted to gasp when the doors opened. The elevator, it seemed, came o
ut directly into Perry’s apartment, floors of the same pale marble leading to Persian rugs and a gorgeous fireplace, and the biggest kitchen she’d ever seen sat in one corner. Art hung on the walls: star charts and old nautical maps, and a few pictures of a younger Perry with boys and girls who could only be his siblings, from the look of their matching dark eyes.

  “This way, little man.” Perry picked up the suitcases and showed Darren to the bedroom. Cara could hear the shower turn on and off, and the sound of drawers opening, and then Perry emerged, smiling tentatively.

  “Can I get you a glass of wine? Tea?”

  Courage. She had to have courage. Cara bit her lip. “Just tell me what you want.”

  He sighed, hands in his pockets, and then he beckoned her into the living room, gesturing to one couch as he sat on another.

  “I’m not sure…” He stopped. “I’m not sure that I’m up to telling you the whole story.”

  Cara watched him, curling her legs up to her chest, and Perry sighed again.

  “Cara, you remind me… of me. A few years ago. Well, more than a few.” He ran a hand ruefully through his hair.

  “You’re a billionaire,” Cara said bluntly. More bluntly than she wanted to.

  “I didn’t start out that way. I started out like you.” His eyes met hers. “I was too independent.”

  “Too independent.” Cara wanted to laugh, or cry. She wasn’t sure which.

  “Independence makes you strong. Teaches you to stand on your own two feet. But it can cripple you if you let it, just like anything else. In you, I see dreams that go…beyond this planet.” His eyes drifted to one of the star charts. “Your son didn’t get his intelligence from nowhere, Cara. He got it from you, and he’ll get your competence, and your drive, and your humor, too. But one thing you should show him, before it’s too late, is that people need other people. No one can go it alone.”

  “You’ve got it all wrong.” Cara swallowed hard. “You think you can just put me back on my feet and I’ll go back to school and become some big deal.”

  He just watched her, elbows resting on his knees, and she looked away before she could let her eyes drift over his handsome face. Before she could think of how things might have been—if she had finished her schooling, if she had met him as a scientist, as a woman with a career. A woman worthy of him.