She held up her hand. “Don’t start. Please. I’m glad you like the cupcakes, but I’m not interested in my own bakery. And I have too much on my plate right now to argue about it.”
“What are you talking about?”
She shook her head. “Forget it. I spoke without thinking.”
“You’ve been doing a lot of that today.” Cal turned away and headed toward the basketball area.
Tyrone hurried over. “You playing ball with us, man?” He held up a fist for Cal to bump.
“Sure.” He touched his fist to the boy’s.
Frankie knew Tyrone hadn’t noticed Cal’s slight hesitation. But she had. “Sorry, Tyrone, not now. I have something Mr. Stewart needs to do.”
The lanky teen grinned. “Too bad. We’ll have to kick Julio’s a…butt without you, dude.”
Cal watched him hurry away, then turned to her. “What do I have to do?”
“I have several more thank-you letters to get out, and since you rewrote my last one, I know you know how to do it. I’d like you to take care of that this afternoon.”
“I’ll stay later and do it then.”
Did the idiot have no sense of self-preservation? “No, I need to leave on time tonight.”
Cal’s gaze narrowed, and she saw the question in his eyes. What are you doing with Ramon? Finally, he nodded. “I’ll take care of the letters.” He glanced at the boys playing basketball, then disappeared into her office.
CAL FOUND THE MANILA FOLDER on her small, messy desk. He sat in the chair and glanced at the list of donors and amounts.
Did she think he was out of control? Was she afraid he’d pound Ramon into the ground? Pick a fight? Lay him out on the scuffed floor?
The laptop almost tipped when he opened it. He might want to straighten that banger out, but he wouldn’t do it like that.
No one had more self-control than Cal.
What had she almost said?
It didn’t matter. She’d caught herself before the conversation could get too personal, and that was all the reminder he needed. He didn’t belong in this world. He knew crap about working with kids.
He worked steadily through the donor list, feeling adrift. Lonely.
He’d known he shouldn’t play basketball, but wanted to do it, anyway. He’d started because he wanted the kids to like him. He continued because he’d had a good time.
And wasn’t that the height of irony? He actually enjoyed playing ball with a bunch of snot-nosed high-school punks.
He was still pissed off when a current of air brushed his neck and he inhaled Frankie’s scent. He spun around to find her leaning against the door frame.
“Thanks for getting those letters ready.” She plucked them off the desk and stuck them into a deep black bag, then pulled them out with a frown. “I didn’t realize there were so many. Thank you.” Holding his gaze, she tucked them back into her bag. “That’s a huge help.”
“It also kept me away from Ramon, didn’t it?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You think I don’t know why you sent me to my room? You were afraid I’d get into it with him, weren’t you?”
She slung the bag over her shoulder. “You did say you’d be my enforcer.” There was a tiny smile in her eyes that disappeared when he stood up.
“Do you really think I’d be that stupid? I’m here because I don’t want to go to jail, Frankie. I’m not going to jeopardize that by hitting a teenager. I may be a dumb jock, but I do have some impulse control.”
“You’re not a dumb jock, Cal. And that’s not why I asked you to finish the letters.”
“Why, then?”
The bag started to slip off her shoulder, and she shoved it back into place. “I saw you rubbing your knee. Keeping your weight off it. I didn’t think playing basketball was a good idea for you.”
It had been a long time since someone thought about what would be good for him. Since anyone had cared. Because he didn’t want to examine the pleasure that moved through him, Cal went on the attack.
“I’m not one of your kids, Frankie. I don’t need a do-gooder to help me make the right decisions.” The psychobabble came out with a snarl, and he felt a flash of satisfaction when her face paled.
“Maybe you do. You would have played with the boys if I hadn’t asked you to do this instead.”
“It would have been my choice.”
“Fine.” She adjusted the bag on her shoulder again. “Ruin your months of rehab. Stretch those rebuilt ligaments too much. You’re right. It’s none of my business.”
Another ripple of pleasure moved through him. “I didn’t know you were a football fan.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You know a lot about my injury and rehab.”
“I read the papers,” she said. “It’s not like it’s a big secret.” She avoided his gaze, focusing instead behind him.
She turned abruptly and walked out of the office. A few moments later, the lights went off. “Come on, Cal. I need to get going.”
“What about cleaning up?”
“I’ll come in early and do it tomorrow. You’re welcome to join me, if you want more hours. But I have to be somewhere at seven tonight.”
Somewhere with Ramon.
Cal slammed off the lights in the office and walked across the center to where she waited by the door. He didn’t limp. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.
“Where do you have to be?”
She shifted the bag to her other shoulder. “None of your business.”
“You’re not walking in this neighborhood, are you?”
“I live in this neighborhood. I walk here all the time.”
The sun was a huge orange globe sliding behind the buildings across the street. He moved between her and the door and blocked her way. “It’s getting dark.”
“Not for another hour,” she said impatiently. “Out of my way, Cal. I can’t be late.”
She wasn’t going to tell him where she was going.
He was determined to find out, anyway. Only because he didn’t trust Ramon as far as he could throw him.
Frankie was too trusting. Someone needed to make sure she was safe.
“Fine,” he said. “What time should I be here tomorrow?”
“Two-thirty should be plenty of time.”
“I’ll see you then.”
He walked her to her car, and neither of them spoke. She wrenched open the door, tossed her bag onto the passenger seat and slid behind the wheel. “Good night, Cal,” she said, then slammed the door without waiting for a response.
As soon as she started the engine, he headed for his SUV. When she drove past, he made a U-turn and followed her.
CHAPTER NINE
THE PLUME OF BLUE EXHAUST spewing from Frankie’s rusted tailpipe made it easy to follow her car.
Cal scowled as he watched her weave in and out of traffic. Apparently, she took stupid chances while driving, too.
He slowed as she pulled into the gated parking lot in front of an aging three-story building. The sign above it said High School, but the actual name was blacked out. There were gang signs above the smear of paint.
Why the hell hadn’t the staff gotten rid of the tag as soon as it happened? A gang couldn’t be allowed to claim a school.
A gate swung open and a guard waved Frankie through. Cal waited until she’d parked before he pulled up to the gate.
The guard eyed his Escalade, and Cal rolled down the window. “I’m with Ms. Devereux.”
“She didn’t say anything about someone with her.”
“You know Frankie,” Cal said with what he hoped was a fond smile. “She’s too fo
cused on her kids to think about anything else.” Or notice someone following her.
The guard’s face relaxed. “Yeah, that’s Frankie. Woman needs to get a life.”
Cal winked. “Working on it.”
The man laughed. “Don’t work too hard. This neighborhood needs FreeZone. Don’t know what our kids would do without it.”
“Wouldn’t dream of taking her away. Just giving her something else to think about.”
The guard raised the gate. “We all need that,” he said. He glanced over his shoulder. “You better hurry. Doesn’t look like she’s waiting for you.”
“Like I said. Absentminded.” Cal waved to the guard and drove into the lot. The asphalt was broken and crumbling, with weeds growing through the cracks. He parked next to Frankie’s beater and hurried after her.
He caught up with her as she opened the heavy metal door to the school. “Hey, Frankie.”
She spun around and let the door close with a hollow bang. One of the boarded-up windows in the door shuddered. “Cal? What are you doing here?”
“Following you. And it wasn’t easy. You drive like a maniac.”
“You followed me?” Her voice cut through the cool evening air like a knife. “Why the hell would you do that?”
“I was worried about you. You talked about doing something with Ramon this evening, and I didn’t think that was safe. I thought you might need help with him.”
“As you can see, I’m fine.” She stepped closer, and her eyes sparked. “Still in one piece.”
“So far.” He gestured toward the door. “You haven’t gone into the school yet.”
“There are only teachers left here. And there’s a security guard inside. So you can leave with a clean conscience.”
“Can’t do that. I promised the guard at the gate I’d keep an eye on you. He’s worried, too, you know.”
“George?” She frowned. “Why would he be worried about me?”
“He knows you need to get a life.”
She scowled. “And you’re so qualified to give me advice about that?” A gust of wind blew around the corner of the building, plastering her cargo pants and bulky blue sweater against her body. It emphasized how small she really was. How vulnerable.
She stood taller, and all sense of fragility vanished. “What’s in your life, other than football?”
He ignored the twist of dread. “For the next fifty hours, my life is all about FreeZone. So I have to make sure you’re okay. If you can’t keep FreeZone open, I’m screwed. I don’t finish my CS, I don’t get to training camp.” He’d always been good at keeping his eye on the prize.
And thinking on his feet.
“Are you kidding me? You think you’re my…my bodyguard or something?” She yanked open the door so hard it bounced against the brick wall. The squares of wood replacing three of the panes of glass shuddered again.
He grabbed the door and held it steady. “Or something.”
“Or nothing. Get lost, Cal. Go find a life for yourself. I don’t need your help.”
“Are you meeting Ramon here?”
“That’s still none of your business.” Her eyes flickered toward the door.
“You are,” he said with satisfaction. “How come?”
“In what universe is this any of your concern?”
“I already told you. I have a vested interest in keeping you safe.”
“You are such a pain in my ass. Leave now and I’ll pretend this never happened.” She turned into the doorway so quickly that her bag swung around in a weighted arc. The thing looked heavy enough to knock a person out.
“Frankie.” He stopped the door from closing with one hand.
She stopped. Took a deep breath. Turned around. “What?”
“Why are you here?” He was careful to keep his tone neutral this time, avoiding all hint of accusation.
She studied him for a long moment. Finally, she said, “I’m meeting with Ramon and one of his teachers.”
“Why you?”
“Because his homeroom teacher wants to talk to him about his failing grades and told him he had to have an adult with him. Ramon asked me if I could be here.”
“Where are his parents? Or his guardian?”
“His father took off years ago. His mother is a junkie.”
Cal squashed the flicker of compassion; no matter what his story was, the kid had chosen to join a gang. “So you came here after FreeZone? By yourself?” She had to have been up before dawn to work at the bakery. She’d spent several difficult hours at FreeZone. Now she was here for a frigging parent-teacher conference.
“Cal, I’m perfectly safe.” Her irritation had disappeared, replaced by weariness. “Thanks for your concern, but you should go home. Sit on your couch. Ice your knee, or whatever it is you do to it. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I’ll sit in the meeting with you.”
“What?” Her forehead wrinkled, as if he was speaking a foreign language. “Why?”
“United front,” he said. “Show of strength. Let the teacher see there are two people who care about this kid.”
“But you don’t care about Ramon,” she said quietly.
“I don’t trust him. But I’m here now. You might as well use me.” Cal stepped closer and let the door close behind him.
Frankie glanced at her watch and shook her head. “I don’t have time to argue with you. I’m already late.”
She stopped at the glassed-in booth near the second doorway and smiled at the uniformed security guard. Then she took off at a fast walk, but Cal kept up with her easily. There were some lights in the halls, but they weren’t full strength. Lockers lined the walls, like soldiers on watch and on alert.
It looked nothing like the clean, well-maintained suburban high school he’d attended, and the inequity was disturbing.
Unjust.
Frankie stepped into a stairwell and hurried up to the next floor. The place smelled like every high school he’d ever been in—overripe bananas, the faint stink of unwashed gym clothes, the aroma of books.
When they emerged on the second floor, a wash of light spilled from a room halfway down the hall.
“Keep your mouth shut,” she said in a low voice as they got closer. “Sit there and just…be quiet.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be the silent but menacing presence.”
Her mouth twitched. “Exactly what I need when I’m trying to sweet-talk Ramon’s teacher.”
“Hey, I’m good at sweet talk. Maybe you should be the menacing presence.”
FRANKIE BENT HER HEAD to hide her smile. Cal had managed to make her laugh, and she hadn’t thought that possible tonight. She’d been dreading this meeting. Afraid of what Ramon’s homeroom teacher was going to say.
She bit her lip, composed her expression and walked into the classroom.
Ramon was sprawled in a chair in front of the teacher’s desk, staring out the window into the twilight. The teacher was younger than Frankie had expected, probably just out of school. Or maybe Teach for America. He had that preppy, elite-college look—buttoned-down collar on his dress shirt, which he wore with a tie. Expensive haircut. Plain eyeglasses, but she’d bet her last dollar they were a designer brand.
“Mr. Connors,” Frankie said, too aware of Cal behind her. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting.” She turned to Ramon. “I apologize for being late. I was held up.”
Ramon straightened. “What’s he doing here?” He nodded at Cal.
“With three of us, we’ll remember what Mr. Connors says more easily.” And didn’t that sound like a crock. But it was the best she could come up with on short notice. “Mr. Connors, this is my colleague Cal Stewart.”
Cal reached around her to sha
ke the teacher’s hand, and the young man narrowed his eyes behind the tortoiseshell glasses. “Aren’t you the Coug—?”
“I work with Ms. Devereux at FreeZone,” Cal interrupted. “And Ramon.”
The boy watched them with his flat, unreadable gaze. Frankie claimed the other chair near the teacher’s desk and sat down. Cal dragged one of the desks over, then slid into it.
“So, Mr. Connors,” she said briskly. “What can we do to help Ramon?”
The teacher was still staring at Cal. “Mr. Connors?” Frankie said sharply.
“Um, yes. Ramon.” He shuffled a stack of papers in front of him. “Ramon hasn’t been turning in homework assignments. His grades are dangerously low, and I’m concerned.”
“What happened when you asked him why he wasn’t doing the work?” Frankie inquired.
Connors cleared his throat. “His answer wasn’t, ah, helpful.”
She swiveled on the hard wooden seat. “Ramon? What’s going on? You used to do your homework every day.”
He shrugged. “Don’t have time for that shit.”
“Why not?” Frankie leaned closer and Ramon sat up a little straighter. “Have you been hanging with the Vipers again?”
“No! I promised you I wouldn’t, and I’m not.”
“Then what’s going on?”
Ramon’s gaze darted toward the teacher, then Cal. He stared down at his shoes.
“Tell me,” she said. Mr. Connors leaned forward and opened his mouth, but Frankie shot him a sharp look. He leaned back in his chair.
“Ramon?”
“My mama’s sick,” he finally said, squirming. “I got to take care of her after school.” He glanced up at Frankie, then back at his shoes. “I don’t got time for homework. Or FreeZone.”
“Oh, Ramon,” she said softly. She took his hand, and the boy curled his fingers around hers. “Has she seen a doctor?”
“Ain’t no free clinics around here. Last one closed a few months ago.”
“Then we need to get her to Cook County Hospital. After we’re done here, I’ll drive you both over there.”
“I don’t know, Ms. D. She don’t like that place.” He jiggled one leg. “She’s afraid they gonna put her in rehab.”
A Safe Place Page 9
