by Amie Denman
“Hey, Jazz. I thought that was you.”
My first thought was that my murderer knew my name and I resented him for making my impending death so personal. And then I looked. Gilt lettering on the red pickup’s door said Bluegill Fire Dept. The man behind the wheel wore the expression of a lucky fisherman who had caught the same fish twice in one day.
“Jazz?” Kurt asked again. He must have wondered why I was still attempting to roll my wounded bike along the road. “How about a ride?”
Personal pride and general pissyness will only get a girl so far in life. I was sweating in the humidity thrown down by the earlier rain, my ankles were raw, I had a mile to go and I was ticked off at the world. It was obvious, even to Kurt, that I was going to forfeit the bike race with his truck. Still, I persisted for a few more feet to remind the Fates that I didn’t give up easily.
He dropped behind me and pulled over to the side of the road. I stopped and stood there, wishing for a moment that I was more like the Virgin Mary. She rode in a black Town Car. She didn’t get frizzy hair when it was humid. Her boobs were the right size for her body. She would not be shoving a broken bike along a secondary highway as quickly as possible to get home in time for dinner with her flamboyant, cross-dressing gay cousin, her hormonal mother and perpetually muttering father. Of course, her father was probably a criminal and mine was just somewhat criminally cranky. I tried to console myself with the thought that Mary Margaret was also not nearly as interesting as I was.
Kurt lowered the tailgate on the pickup truck.
“Should I ask?” he said gently.
I parked my butt in the passenger seat, tugged my seatbelt on and prepared to look straight ahead on the one-mile ride. The first traitorous inklings of self-pity crept through my tear glands and moistened the inside of my nose. If Kurt was nice to me at all, I would curl up on the floor of the truck and cry myself to sleep.
“You can probably guess.”
“You worked at the marina today.”
It was a statement, not a question, so I concentrated on the imperfections of one of my fingernails as he started driving and I hoped for a quick deliverance.
I might have been able to keep it all under control until Kurt abruptly pulled over, got out and came around the truck. He leaned in my window, dangerously close, and I could almost make myself believe there hadn’t been about six intervening hours since the hot kissing in my car.
“I’ll be right back.” He had some sort of a tool in his hand as he walked into the ditch that ran along the road.
“Where are you going?” I shouted out the window. “I thought you were taking me home.”
“Just a minute,” he answered from down in the ditch, his voice muffled.
True to his word, he was back to the truck and slipping into the driver’s seat before I could even wrap my thoughts around this bizarre twist.
“Were you in some kind of a hurry?” he asked as little laugh lines appeared next to his eyes. He seemed to enjoy toying with me. Maybe he thought he was being a man of mystery. I was already tired of being his entertainment. I’d only known the man for a few weeks and had already provided him with enough comic theater to earn me a Tony award. I had seen a tiny twinge of his vulnerability when he’d revealed his lack of Honda engine know-how, but he had seen pretty much all of my shortcomings gloriously demonstrated. Too one-sided for me.
“I have dinner plans with Harry,” I said, trying to be mysterious but sounding kind of bitchy instead.
The laugh lines disappeared and his face turned more serious. “Just one more hydrant to check along here on the way to…uh…your house.” When I didn’t answer, he added, “We check the hydrants every spring to make sure that there was no damage from snowplows or anything else over the winter.”
Since I still said nothing, he put the truck in gear.
“Do you like it here in Bluegill?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I’m still pretty new around here.”
“Guess you are.” He smiled then and it eased the tension considerably. “I think there’s more to you than meets the eye, Jazz.”
“I think you’ve pretty much seen the whole package.”
“Not all of it,” he said. “But I’m on duty.”
Kurt pulled over to do the all-important hydrant check again while I sat in the truck feeling confused. I was always getting into embarrassing situations where I drew attention to myself. But what I really wanted was attention from the hot fireman currently striding back toward the truck, swinging some sort of metal wrench. His dark hair curled over his forehead in the humidity; his T-shirt was tucked neatly into his pants. I had a full view of the whole package, and I had no idea what was going on between us at the moment.
“Better get you to your date,” he said as he slid that fantastic ass onto the driver’s seat again.
I laughed and pictured myself on a date with my cousin. He’d probably steal my favorite dress and wear it. It would be way too short, but Harry had some pretty awesome legs. Not to mention a world-class collection of fishnets.
Kurt didn’t start the truck this time. Instead he turned sideways so that his knees were up against my thighs. He rested his arm over the back of the seat and put his hand on my shoulder. It would take about a millisecond to close the gap between us.
“If I were having dinner with you, I wouldn’t have let you ride your bike on a rainy day. Especially when it looks like no one has put air in those tires for about a year.”
No one had put any air in my tires for about a year, either. This was too much. I had attempted to tough out the ride with fake bravado and aloofness, but Kurt’s smoldering eyes, hand caressing my neck and shoulder, and genuine sweetness totally killed my plan. I couldn’t have summoned up my teacher voice at that moment if my life depended on it. My defenses fell away like a snowman taking a header on a hot day.
Hottie fireman was a hell of a kisser. It was something that he clearly put effort into and I was reaping the rewards. You have to admire a man who takes important things seriously. We were locked together on that vinyl seat, picking up where we’d left off earlier. I had somehow slid under him and he was lying on top of me as his lips moved down my neck and his hands explored my breasts. I could really see the benefit of those big hands at the moment. I ran my fingers through his close-cropped hair and snaked one hand under his T-shirt where it had come untucked in the back. Then, suddenly, the sound of a car door slamming broke through our heat like a snowstorm.
“Reynolds?” a voice called.
“Shit,” Kurt whispered next to my ear. “My captain,” he added by way of explanation as he scrambled off me.
We sat up and I saw the captain from the school safety fair looking curiously into the ditch alongside the road. I didn’t think it was a good time for Kurt to get out of the truck because our action on the seat of the truck had apparently been quite stimulating for him. Flattered by this, I managed to suppress the giggle threatening to come out.
“In here, Carl,” Kurt said through my open window.
The captain stepped back from the ditch and peeked into the cab of the truck. He probably wondered—for about a second and a half—why he hadn’t seen anyone in it when he first drove up. I doubted it was much of a mystery. Kurt’s shirt was untucked. Mine was half off and my bra strap was down to my elbow. If Carl had any thoughts at all about what was going on, and he’d have to be nuts not to, he kept a purely professional expression on his face. Professional, but somewhat entertained.
“Miss Shepherd, right?”
“Hello, again,” I said and pasted on my sweet kindergarten teacher face.
“I was just, uh, giving Miss Shepherd a ride,” Kurt said, rather unnecessarily.
“I can see that,” his captain said. A little more amusement appeared in his eyes.
“She had a flat tire.”
“Uh-huh,” Carl said with a brief glance in the bed of the truck where my dead bike lay in disgrace. “Lucky you came along and
could help her out. I came to bring you a list of the new hydrants that got installed earlier this spring. Want to get them all checked off the list.”
“Thanks. I’ll be finishing up here pretty soon.”
“I’m sure you will.” The captain grinned at me and said, “Nice to see you again, Miss Shepherd.”
Nothing at all Kurt could do at that point except put the truck in gear and start driving the last stretch toward my house. Neither of us said anything for a moment, both probably wondering the same thing. How had we been caught twice in one day? And what was next?
“Sorry about that,” he finally said.
“Which part?” I always attempted to be difficult in messy situations. It made a good distraction.
“I know which part I’m not sorry about.”
“Apology accepted,” I said.
“For which part?”
I didn’t think that needed an answer, so I just smiled when he looked over at me. Kurt pulled into my driveway behind Harry’s truck and switched off the ignition.
“Why didn’t you call Harry to come get you?” Kurt asked.
“I tried, but he didn’t answer the phone.”
Kurt’s eyes were so sweet and full of concern for me that I had to let him off the hook. And I didn’t want him driving off thinking I lived with some guy who was such scum that he wouldn’t answer my distress call. I had too much pride to let people think I’d go that cheap in the auction of love. Kurt was the kind of man who jumped on trucks and hauled ass whenever an alarm sounded. He lived for the testosterone-pumping, hero-making action. He would have answered the phone. I could fall for a guy like that, and I owed him at least a taste of the truth about Harry.
“He was probably having a bubble bath and doing his toenails. He won’t answer the phone when he’s busy,” I explained.
The corners of Kurt’s mouth started to twitch and I knew he desperately wanted to laugh. His expression was also mixed with something else, something like relief and an equal share of confusion. Kurt thought I was shacking up with a man, and his curiosity had to be killing him. Of course, his own relationship with the Virgin Mary remained unexplained. If we were going to keep having these automotive encounters, he owed me an explanation pretty soon. For now, though, it was just nice being with a man who, for whatever reason, seemed genuinely interested in me.
“Right now, he’s probably pillaging my closet and trying on dresses. Lucky for me his feet are way too big for my favorite stilettos.”
“Don’t tell me this is some sort of sexual fantasy you two are acting out.”
“Hardly. My cousin would be way more interested in you than in me.”
Kurt laughed out loud. “I’m strangely comforted by that, but it’s a pity you can’t ask me in to find out for sure. I’m on duty.”
“So you’ve said.”
“How’d you end up living with your cousin who hogs the bathtub and raids your closet?”
“Long story.”
“Those are usually the good ones. Wish I could stay and hear it, but my captain is probably wondering where I am.”
“Another time,” I said.
Kurt kissed me on the lips. A short, goodbye for now kind of kiss. He backed out of the driveway looking at me the whole time. Pretty risky behavior for a public safety guy.
Chapter Ten
It was the last Monday of the last week of the school year. You can’t buy that feeling of elation and relief. Well, Harry would probably know where to buy it, but I wasn’t quite ready to shop where my cousin shops. The magic of the last week of school should have been all consuming, but I didn’t even make it halfway to lunch without my lion’s share of trouble.
My kindergarteners were in gym class being instructed in the joy of physical fitness by Intimidoris, and I took advantage of the solace to run to the restroom, call the towing service about my dead car and check my mailbox in the tiny school office.
Sister Mary Alice met me at the office door. Under the white band of her black habit, her face flushed pink. I thought maybe she was still worked up over her conquest at the auction Saturday night. Who knew what kind of coping skills a middle-aged nun has when it comes to hormone storms? She probably spent Sunday afternoon thinking of things she could do with Kurt. I know I had. At the office door, Mary Alice put her pudgy palms flat on both sides of my face.
“Flowers just arrived.” She waited for me to say something. “They’re for you, Jazz.”
My hormones couldn’t take much excitement these days either. I got a little warm and squishy picturing Kurt sending me flowers. Or maybe it was the heat of the palms on my cheeks. I stepped past Sister Mary Alice and eyed the expensive arrangement of out-of-season, exotic flowers sitting on the austere office counter. It was, perhaps, the most excitement that wood laminate counter had enjoyed since Vatican II.
My happiness fizzled. A public servant like Kurt wouldn’t be too likely to send a three-figure flower arrangement. He was more the endearing, found-this-growing-by-the-roadside type. But these flowers were from someone with money who wanted to make an impression. Cerberus.
I plucked the card from its plastic fork and noted that the envelope was not sealed. The door to Old Lady Clark’s office was open just enough to reveal that she was in there. Great. Even with my limited knowledge of Damien Cerberus, I was damn sure he wouldn’t do my reputation any good with an old dragon like Clark. He was too…everything.
“Well?” asked Mary Alice. She clearly expected happy news from me.
I opened the card.
I hope you won’t disappoint me. I hate hearing the word no from anyone, especially women who have so much to offer. DC
I swallowed hard and tried to paste on a neutral face. Mary Alice practically danced with anticipation.
“It’s from a boater who docks in the marina,” I said. “He wanted to say thanks for my help with his, um, docking.”
Mary Alice’s face fell a little. I was certain she’d hoped for something more exciting. For my sake, of course.
The door to Clark’s office opened wide and she stood there looking ready to revive the Spanish Inquisition. Just in case they missed anyone the first time.
“Miss Shepherd,” Clark said, “My office.”
Not exactly a request. Mary Alice flashed me an encouraging look and scurried out into the hallway. She’d never make it past amateur status when it came to intimidation. Not with competition like Clark and Mary Doris around. This kind of tension had her running for her rosary. I had nowhere to run, so I walked into Clark’s office and sat in the hard plastic chair across from her desk.
“I see you received flowers,” the principal began. She eased into her uncompromising wood chair. “Expensive flowers.”
“They’re from someone at the marina.” I was under no professional obligation to reveal anything personal, but I was also in danger of sweating through my blouse. Without a car, going home to change at lunch was outside my realm of possibility. I wanted to play it cool.
“I’m sure you’ll be tempted by all kinds of men at that marina.”
I glanced up at the crucifix on the wall, hoping for divine intervention. Nothing happened.
“I wonder if you have met a man named Damien Cerberus,” she said.
The blood drained from my face. She had read the card, knew who those initials belonged to. I should have run for it with Mary Alice. My brain froze and refused to even suggest what I should do. So I sat there, holding very still, hoping Old Lady Clark wouldn’t swoop across the desk and crush me under the ponderous weight of her clunky man-killing shoes.
“I can see that you have.” Her direct gaze never left my face. I knew, once and for all, that she’d missed her calling. Interrogating criminals and strong-arming confessions out of hardened scofflaws and ne’er-do-wells should have been her life’s work. She was throwing away talent here at mild St. Peter’s Elementary. The big leagues could use a woman like Old Lady Clark.
“I would suggest that whatever
he is asking of you—you say no.”
I wanted to say no to Cerberus. Desperately. Who knew that a creep like him would have me and Clark agreeing on something? Not that it was much of a moral victory. Especially considering that I was probably going to waffle and take the bait. I needed money; Chief Balcheski needed evidence. I had no idea what Old Lady Clark needed. So I said nothing. Still hoping that Jesus might give me a sign from his vantage point behind Clark’s head.
“I have my reasons for asking,” she continued. “Good reasons.”
Total silence followed for an incredibly awkward sixty seconds. I was afraid to ask about her reasons, and she clammed up and stared me down, waiting for me to flinch. I wondered what she knew about Cerberus and why she and Balcheski had talked about me. I stayed rabbit-still and the hawk finally moved on.
“While you’re here, there’s something else I want to discuss with you,” Clark said. “I wonder if you might know where to get your hands on a costume.”
Mother of God. She knows about Harry. She was going to fire me because of my favorite cousin and cross-dressing friend and landlord. I’d always known my days here were numbered, but what a way to go. Trouble seemed to be attracted to me. Harry had the same problem, but he liked it. I looked Clark over and wondered what kind of magic Harry could work. Maybe a little Clark makeover for curiosity’s sake on my way out the door? Some bodacious red lips, a killer set of fake lashes…hell, she might even look like a woman. Harry would love a challenge like that. The thought gave me the ounce of bravery I needed.
“A costume?”
“Specifically,” she pronounced, “a duck costume.”
“Duck costume?”
“Of course,” Clark said. “You know that this weekend is Memorial Day.”
Boy, did I know it. My first official weekend of summer. School would be out, and I hoped to be walking down the sunny side of the street. Clark didn’t look so sunny. I nodded in answer to her question.
