“Okay,” Parker nodded. “Let’s start with suspicion of kidnapping. Kidnapping of whom?’
“The minors on the floor, Mr. Forrest. Namely Miss Forrest, Mr. Forrest III and Mr. Malloy.”
“Uh-huh.” Parker nodded again, then turned to Kimber. “Ms. Forrest, did you call the police and report any of the aforementioned minors missing today or at any time within the past twenty-four hours?”
Kimber smirked. “No, I did not.”
“And are you the parent of the children Captain Forrest mentioned; the same children happily playing on the floor on an alphabet mat?”
“Not all of them. Just one.”
“Were the other two left in your care?”
“They were.”
“By whom?”
“Their mother,” Kimber nodded. “Her nanny is having a personal day and I’m taking care of them.”
“I think that tosses out the kidnapping. Now, the reckless endangerment… Ms. Forrest, how did you get the babies here?”
“Well, I strapped them all into car seats in the brand new minivan my son’s grandmother insisted was the safest for families and purchased. I drove them here below the speed limit then one-by-one, I strapped them into a three-seat stroller and rolled them into the office.”
“And what did you do when you got them inside?”
“Mr. Forrest II was in a meeting so I sat in here while the babies enjoyed their bottles. After they were done feeding, Mr. Forrest II joined me, then called his son and told him we were here, and the three of us parked them on the floor after we burped them. The three of us have been here since, keeping a close eye on the three little ones. Until my son spit up on Mr. Forrest II and he went to change his shirt. Then my brother and I handled them together.”
“Another charge out the window,” Parker nodded. “Now, custodial interference. Mr. Forrest, are you the father of any of the children the captain mentioned?”
“I am,” Samuel nodded. “Samona and Samuel Forest III.”
“And are you and the children’s mother divorced?”
“No,” Samuel murmured with a smirk as he looked out the corner of his eye at his wife. “Happily married when she’s not arresting me.”
Captain Forrest rolled her eyes.
“You share custody and reside in the same home with the children and their mother, is that correct?”
“It is,” Sam nodded.
“Another one bites the dust.” Parker smiled. “Captain Forrest, how is my client performing malicious intent, depraved indifference and contributing?”
“Mr. Forrest II is discounting my need to be with my babies by doing so himself, knowing a police station is nowhere for an infant to be, let alone three, thereby being malicious to my feelings and contributing to my heartache and suffering at being away from them. If that’s not depraved indifference, then I don’t know what is.”
Sam sighed and turned to his wife. I wanted to cry for her. It was so evident she missed her children and grandson something awful.
“Kitten, you don’t have to work, you know that,” Sam said softly. “I can more than provide for the five of you and won’t go broke any time soon. Take all the time you need and stay home with the babies.”
“I can’t,” Captain Forrest whined. “You don’t just quit being the captain, especially if your hormones are the culprit. Besides, I am way too young to retire.”
“So quit anyway,” Sam replied softly. “Resign and go with the plan you had when we got engaged.”
“What plan?”
“You said you wanted to be mayor here, Kitten. You’d have my vote. Well, you would if I wasn’t convicted of one of your felonious charges.”
“You really think I could be mayor of Hampton, Sam,” the captain asked softly.
Sam grinned. “I know you could, Kitten. And I would be more than happy to help with the campaign.”
“Next election is in two years, Mom,” Kimber smiled. “You could quit in a year and start campaigning. I’ll make time to help you, too.”
“So would I,” Parker assured. “And I know you’ll have Samantha’s help as well as all the Malloys. Then there’s the band. Mom and Rafe. Roland.”
“I wouldn’t mind helping either, Shay,” I murmured.
Captain Forrest sighed and wrapped her arms around Sam. “Okay.”
I heard the sound of her unlocking the cuffs. His arms came around her and he kissed her deeply. I turned my head and felt myself blush as Parker and Kimber made gagging noises.
“That looks like contributing to me,” Kimber murmured. “It has to be a crime for any child, whether they’re seven months, twenty-three or twenty-seven, to see their parents making out like that.”
“I agree.” Parker nodded, then smiled at me, holding out his hand. “Hi. Sorry about that and this display. I’m Parker Forrest.”
“Cassidy Wren.” I smiled and shook his hand.
“Cassidy Wren?” Kimber frowns. “I know that name. Cassidy… Wren. Oh, wow.”
“Should I know that name,” Parker asked.
“The shooting here when I was seven,” Kimber sighed. “It was talked about for years.”
I put my head down. “My mother was killed. Innocent bystander.”
“Right,” Parker said sympathetically. “I remember.”
“Cassidy’s been in Iowa for a few years and she’s back now,” a breathless Captain Forrest said behind me. “She’s a back-up vocalist for Main House and needs to supplement her income.”
“You know, Dad,” Parker said as Sam wiped the lipstick from his mouth. “The junior department needs a runner and fifteen needs another typist. Can you type, Miss Wren?”
“Cassidy, please. I can,” I confirmed, holding out my résumé. “I have an aunt that made sure I could go almost as fast as her. She’s at 180-190, I believe. I’m only 140, but if I’m dictated to, I can go to 160.”
Parker paused in passing the résumé to his father. “Words a minute?”
“Yes.” I smiled, thinking I was so glad Aunt Raquel had taken the time to teach me and made me keep going.
Sam looked up from my résumé. “Are you saying you can follow a conversation, type it accurately and you have no problem signing a confidentiality agreement?”
“No, Mr. Forrest, I have no problem with either situation.”
“How many people can you follow?”
“Let’s see,” I said, thinking. “My personal best is five. I once typed out an entire talk with my grandparents, aunt, her girlfriend and my dad. Well, I guess it’s more like six, since I included myself in that assignment.”
“Why would you do that, Cassidy?” Sam frowned. “Typing the family dinner, I mean.”
“Training, Mr. Forrest,” I answered. “My aunt earns her living as an assistant and types during meetings. I spent summers in Calabasas with her while she worked, mostly typing and listening.”
“Where does your aunt work?” Sam asked. “Under who?”
“Sorry.” I twitched. “I cannot tell you that.”
“I need to know as a reference, Cassidy,” Sam said.
“I can tell you my aunt’s name and give you her number; she would have to tell you anything more. I won’t reveal her place of employment or any more than I have already.”
“Even if it means you won’t receive employment here?”
“Yes, Mr. Forrest,” I sighed, then looked at him. “Even if it means you won’t hire me.”
Sam nodded. After a moment of reflection, he went to his desk phone. “Sam Forrest. I have a young woman coming for a standard drug test and I want the results ASAP. Sooner.”
I smiled. He was testing me, and I thanked God I passed. I could never tell them who Aunt Raquel worked for or where. So not my place.
“Pending results of the tests,” Parker smiled. “I’d say you have a job as a typist for S.A. Forrest and Associates. Welcome.”
I grinned. “Thank you. I’m looking forward to it.”
Sam walked o
ver, handed me a card to a place that was close, maybe four blocks away. I could easily walk it. I thanked God I didn’t wear heels. He also handed me an employee packet, which included rules and regulations, benefits and procedures. I made note to read it ASAP.
“Take the test, read these packets. Be here Monday morning, 7:30, ready to type. Your normal hours will be eight to five, but I’m having you come in early on Monday to get acquainted. Someone will meet you and orientate you with your duties. Sounds good?”
“Excellent, Mr. Forrest. Thank you.”
I smiled at everyone then left, damn near jogging to the medical center. A regular job! I needed it worse than… Well, read on.
Chapter Two
Friends, Old and New
After my drop and strands of hair were pulled, I went back to the two-bedroom place I shared with my fellow native Iowan boyfriend, Eddie Murphy.
I know, I know.
Ed is a handsome Caucasian guy with hazel eyes and brown hair and the only thing he had in common with the famous actor/comedian is the name.
Ed never laughed and made no one laugh. He was serious about everything. He was boring in every aspect of his life, except in bed… when he could get it up. He took everything so extremely serious that it affected his ability to get erections. I think. He’d seen doctor after doctor, but they all said he was physically fine. Every time I heard that, I wanted to throttle them.
Fine? No, he most certainly was not fine. He couldn’t please me as a man very often; nowhere near where I wanted. I enjoyed his mouth at times and his fingers could be magical, but I felt like a lesbian in a relationship with the butchest-looking woman ever.
I love the feel of a hard cock inside me. Moaning deeply as it slowly fills my body… Ahem. So, uh, well…
Ed couldn’t get it up often and when he did, ninety percent of the time it went limp mid-fuck. Yeah, you read me right. I’d be on him or vice-versa, both of us panting and thrusting and he’d lose his erection. I’d feel him one second and the next, nothing.
I didn’t want to take that personally, but when so many physicians say ‘nothing’s wrong’ and he still has erectile dysfunction, just what am I supposed to conclude? He insists I’m wrong in my thinking, but still.
When I got home from the drug test, Ed was not there, yet. No surprise. He’d found a job damn near as soon as we hit town two months before, and they used him. He made good money and wouldn’t touch half of it. Rainy days, he said. His health wasn’t guaranteed, he said. I would just sigh and walk away. Those words were usually after I asked for a few dollars for something feminine, like perfume. I hated smelling like soap because I don’t find any of them ‘feminine,’ no matter what was used to scent the soap.
When I got paid for the last session work I did, I bought a bottle of perfume, and I have only used it twice and each time it was one carefully placed spritz.
I so needed this job.
I made us dinner. No way were we eating out. Cost too much. And I cleaned as I went through the motions of cooking, every time. If I didn’t need a spoon anymore, then I washed it immediately. Same with a pot. I wiped the stove down as I went. I had to, or Ed would bitch about the mess, while I was still cooking. We couldn’t go out to eat because of money and we can’t cook because he hated the mess and he didn’t want to clean or see it. I couldn’t understand why I had to cook and clean but I did it because we had to eat some kind of way.
That night I made smothered chops with rice and it got messy mainly because I was into the TV and was not paying it the attention I should have been.
Thank God my building had cable included in the rent. No way was Ed going to let us get it on our own. The amount of bullshit he gave me because I wanted to buy two TVs was unnerving. There were two of us. We had different tastes in show genres, and it made no sense for one to suffer. I hate sports and he loves them. I liked reality TV, he abhors it. Dramas are what we use to compromise; we both enjoy them. I like old ones, like Grey’s Anatomy and Scandal. Watching those was never a problem, along with some of the newer stuff, but he was still pissed off The West Wing was gone and I am not going to tell you what he says about Monk. I think he believes Monk is his father or something. I’m so grateful I met him long after that show went off the air. I would’ve hated being around for his rants about it leaving.
More times than not recently, I’ve wondered why we’re still together.
I had just finished cooking and was sitting in front of the TV with my food when Ed walked in and softly kissed my head.
“Good evening, honey. I love you.”
He always said that when we’d been apart.
“I love you,” I smiled. He smiled back as he sat a bag on the couch next to me. It was my feminine products I forgot to buy and planned to grab them over the weekend. He does things like that, and that’s when I have my answer as to why we’re together.
Ed went off to shower. He was back in no time, fixed his food and sat next to me as he ate. After he finished, we watched a law drama while we cuddled on the couch, silently, as he ran his fingers in my hair. I clicked everything off as soon as the show went off and sighed as we laid down.
“Are we done with the TV for the night?” Ed asked, pulling me tighter as he rubbed my thigh. I grinned, hoping that meant he was getting a stirring.
“Yeah,” I murmured back. “We both have to get up early. I need the car tomorrow and some money. I have to go buy a few outfits for work.”
His hand froze. “You found another job, honey?”
“I did,” I grinned. “An old friend helped me get work in her husband’s law firm. I’m going to be a typist, starting Monday.”
“That’s awesome, honey,” Ed laughed. “We’ll get the card out in the morning. Now we can get a real fucking bed and use the damn bedroom.”
I shook my head and stayed quiet. I hated sleeping on the couch. He could’ve bought us a bed a long time ago. Cheap ass made me choose between a couch and a bed. I showed him. I made him get a pull-out. He showed me back. We rarely pulled out the bed, and most nights, we slept on the couch. I usually woke with back pain. Why? Neither of us wanted to make the bed and fold it up, and Ed complained it made the apartment look messy if we left the bed out.
You see the pattern here? I thought you would.
“Um, I basically have nothing to wear at an office job, Ed. How much should I spend?”
“What do you have?”
“Um, I have the outfit I wore today and that’s it.”
“Oh,” he murmured. “Well, since it’s for work, buy two weeks’ worth of attire and shoes. Shouldn’t take long to replace, since you have a job now. And it is for work so we should be fine.”
I quietly sighed. God, he’s so relentless. Both of our names are on that account; I can’t understand why he has a card to it and I can’t keep one. See if I put that money back.
I started to nod off when Ed chuckled again. “Hon, you’re not going to believe this.”
“What?” I yawned.
“I had the most… I mean the hardest fucking erection ever last night. I have no idea where that fucker came from.”
I blinked, instantly wide awake.
“Are you serious,” I whispered.
“Yeah, I am. I mean rock-hard and it would not go down no matter what I did. I damn near woke you six or seven times.”
I sat up, and was back to wondering why I was still with this guy. I stared at him in disbelief.
“Honey, what’s wrong?”
“You seriously don’t know? Why didn’t you wake me, Ed?” I shrieked. “You know how much I want some dick!”
“Because I took care of you with my tongue, Cass,” Ed laughed as he sat up. “I thought you were satisfied.”
“I am not a lesbian! I’m a healthy, heterosexual woman,” I shouted. “I rarely get intercourse and you had a major hard-on and wouldn’t share it with me? And now you want to laugh about it like it’s the funniest thing since your name twin was Axel Foley
. No! I was not satisfied, not completely.”
“I’m sorry, honey,” Ed sighed. “Lie down and let’s go to sleep.”
“Not until you promise to wake me if that happens again. Stop me from doing whatever it is I’m doing. Right away, no hesitation, and let me ride you hard and fast.”
“I promise,” Ed soothed. “Can I say I’m really looking forward to that?”
I smacked his chest then laid back down. He had no idea how much I was looking forward to it either.
* * *
My first day, Ed dropped me off at 7:15 on the dot. He had the one car we possessed, and I saw no reason to change that, especially since my work was on the way to his and he didn’t have to be in until nine. Plenty of time since his job was about fifteen minutes from mine.
I kissed Ed goodbye then rushed into the building. I was told to go up to the fifteenth floor, where the other typists were. As soon as I got off the elevator, a woman rushed me with a huge smile on her face. She was as tall as me and curvy. Her eyes were a very light brown and her skin looked like she had been in the sun that morning. And I loved her hair. It was naturally coiled and very thick and I’m sure it hung to her shoulders, at least. She had the light brown curls on the top of her head in a messy pony. She wore mascara and lipstick and didn’t look as if she needed anything more. She was so cute that I wanted to hang her on my wall.
“Hi,” she gushed. “You must be Cassidy Wren. I’m Alannah Kirkland and I’m your supervisor. Call me Lala; everyone does. I’m told you are our new typist. While you wait until you’re needed for a live meeting, you’re supposed to type up contracts and such. I read your résumé. Do you really type 140 a minute?”
“I do,” I nodded.
“Wow,” Alannah beamed. “My best is 100 but I average 85. There are three other typists. Callie, Trista and Walden. Walden types 120. He was our fastest and is entirely pissed off that he has been dethroned. Watch out for your lunch if you bring it.”
I laughed. “Why?”
“Don’t laugh,” Alannah frowned. “Walden is a raging queen and he wants to be the one to wear the crown. Don’t ask me why, hon, he just does. You piss him off, he will toss your lunch or hide it. We usually don’t find it for a few days and the smell can be awful. So be forewarned.”
Despair: Book Two of the Negative Ion Series Page 2
