“Yeah, go,” Aja cried. “And I’m filing a restraining order against you.” Her boldness wasn’t as firm as she’d wanted. She turned to the female officer. “I am allowed to file a restraining order even if he is a police officer?”
“We’ll talk,” the woman said.
“He’s one of the more decorated officers we have here,” the police officer named Doug said. “He’s here to help you, little-bit.”
“Doug, go check the back,” the female officer ordered.
“Did he just call me little-bit?” Aja asked. She was so tired and wide awake at the same time.
“I’m Officer Smith,” the woman said, introducing herself. “Are your parents home?”
“No, my mom is out of town. I’m here alone.”
“How old are you?”
“Eighteen.”
“Is your father home?”
“No,” Aja said. She didn’t want to have to answer questions about not ever having a father. In first grade, a teacher who’d planned a “breakfast with daddy day” had the children tell what their fathers did. Hands went up, and kids gave answers like accountant, fireman, doctor. Aja, waving her hand enthusiastically, yelled out, “sperm donor,” which stopped the teacher in her tracks. To this day, Aja still didn’t know if the teacher was laughing or crying as she escorted Aja to the principal’s office.
Fiona stepped into the conversation, stubbing her cigarette out on the street. “Aja and her momma are friends of mine. Why don’t you stay with me until she gets home?”
Smith ignored Fiona. “How often are you here alone?”
“Not much. She had a job out of town tonight. I need to call her but ‘Mr. Decorated Hero,’ officer Clay Richards, crunched my phone under his boot.”
“Why would he do that?” Smith was taking notes.
“Ask him. He’s been following me around for days now.”
“Did you provoke him?”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Don’t use a tone with me.”
Aja backed down. She’d dealt with police before; they always stuck together.
By the time the police left, they’d determined that someone had forced the back door open, and they found Aja’s phone in pieces on her bedroom floor. Aja had seen enough CSI episodes to know they did nothing to investigate who might have done it.
It was two o’clock, and Aja was weak with exhaustion. She’d had less sleep all week than she needed in one night. Fiona let her come in and clean up, catch a few hours’ sleep and change at her house. By then, it was time to leave for school.
Chapter 14
Aja plopped into a desk in Dempsey’s class. Just get through this day, Aja thought. She was off work tonight and her mother was coming home. She’d be able to sleep all afternoon and night.
She wanted to talk to Walker but thought of Kendall. And, since her phone was smashed, she couldn’t call anybody. Since she’d been ignoring Walker’s texts and phone calls for the past few days he’d probably moved on anyway. Right into Kendall’s arms.
Dempsey called on her a few times in class, and Aja managed to answer the questions. She could tell Dempsey was pissed and got some satisfaction from that. The rest of the day, Aja managed with energy drinks and pinching herself.
When the final bell rang, Aja headed to her car. Relieved. She was going straight home to sleep. She prayed her mom had made it home.
Standing next to her car was Walker.
“Hey.” He jogged up to take her book bag. “I’ve been calling and texting you.”
Aja let him take her books. “My phone’s broken. And I’m sure Kendall’s not interested in a threesome.”
“That’s what I want to talk to you about. I broke up with her a few months ago and moved to Texas to get away from her. She just won’t take no for an answer.” He opened her car door for her. “That’s why Kendall is always here. She refuses to believe it.”
“I thought you came to help your grandparents.”
“That, too. Kendall and I were in school at Northwestern together. We’ve dated since high school. I’ve tried to end our relationship for a while now, and I thought moving here would help me make a clean break.” He ran a hand through his thick, dark hair. “I told you that I’m working to be a different person, trying new things, but sometimes it’s hard to break from my past. My family is so traditional that any change really shakes them up.”
“Look, it’s fine. I mean, we’re not an item or anything. Plus, I’ve been really busy.” Aja wished she wasn’t drawn to him, his eyes, his smile that goodness he seemed to glow with.
“Can we go somewhere and talk?”
“Walker, I’ve had maybe two hours of sleep all week. I just want to go home and take a nap. Then I need to catch up on homework.” She summarized the last few nights with the Jensens and the break-in. “I know that creep is following me. I’m so tired I don’t even know what to do.”
“Let me take you home and watch you snooze.” He smiled.
Aja had a flash of him standing naked on the pedestal, and she blushed. It was sort of tempting, but all she wanted to do was sleep.
“I’ll even get dinner and help you study.”
“I don’t know, Walker, since I don’t have a phone I don’t know if my mom made it home yet.”
He took his phone from his pocket. “Here, call her. Tell your mom I’ll bring dinner for all of us. You nap, I’ll cook.”
“You drive a hard bargain.”
He followed her home, where her mom waited anxiously for her. She gave Aja a big hug when she got out of her car.
“Are you okay?” Her mom released Aja. “I’ve already tried to file a complaint against the jerk, but they need your statement. We can go there right now. Then I can call my friends, and we’ll have a picket set up outside the police station in no time.” She opened the door for Aja and Walker. “Hey, Walker, good to see you again.”
“Mrs. Harmon.” Walker smiled. “It sounds like Aja is real tired.”
“Yeah, Mom. I haven’t slept in forever. Can I take a nap first?”
“Sure, but I don’t want this guy to be out on the streets. The public needs to know about him.”
Aja’s emotions were in turmoil about what to do. Her mom fought causes. She never just filed a complaint and let the proper channels take over. No, she marched with signs and handed out flyers. Aja never liked to go but was always dragged along. All of Aja’s incarcerations were because her mom had taken her along on various protests. Each of Aja’s jail sentences was celebrated by her mom and friends because Aja had taken a stand for something important. One time, when she was fourteen, Aja had her favorite shirt on. A cool, stylish and expensive piece she’d saved and saved for. Her mom forced her to stick a huge “Peace is the Answer” button through it. The big pin left a noticeable hole in it.
Walker put Aja’s book bag on the couch. “I promised to make dinner for you two. I’ll run to the store and get food while Aja takes a nap. I’ll make my specialty—spaghetti and meat sauce. With bottled sauce, of course.”
Aja’s mom said, “That sounds perfect, but we only eat grass-fed beef from humanely killed animals.” She went to the kitchen and opened the freezer. “I have a little bit here, we’ll mix it with this ground soy. If you want to pick up some bread and sauce, I’ll start the meat.”
Aja flopped on the couch not sure if she should be embarrassed by or proud of her mom.
“Soy meat?” Walker looked skeptical.
“You really can’t tell the difference, especially if it’s mixed with the real stuff,” Aja said. “I’m going to take a shower and a nap. You two can wake me up when dinner is ready.” She stood and considered calling Janie first, just to make sure she wasn’t understaffed and to check on the Jensens. No, I need sleep, she convinced herself, and went into her room.
The pieces of her phone were piled in a shoe box. She heard Walker leave and her mom came into her room.
“I am so pissed that this guy thinks he
can get away with something like this.” Aja’s mom nodded to the broken phone. “We might have to reactivate one of our old phones, since our contract isn’t up yet.”
“I thought you donated them to some women’s shelter.” Aja dropped the shoe box on her desk. It would be so cool to get a smart phone like everybody else in the world.
“I think I still have one around here somewhere.” Aja’s mom sat on the bed. “He had to have been watching you. How else would he have known I was gone? We may have to move again.”
“No, not again. Not yet.” Aja wanted to cry. “I’m so tired of moving all the time. Let me finish high school; then maybe we can go to California.”
“We can’t afford California.”
“We can’t afford anyplace. I’m going to San Francisco even if I have to be a beach bum.” Aja grabbed some clothes from her dresser. “I’m going to take a shower.”
“I’m sorry, Aja.” Her mom stood and hugged her. Aja felt the sting of the scratches she’d gotten last night. “I thought a life of adventure would be the best for you. You know, living in different places, seeing the world. But we always seem to wind up on the same side of town.”
“It’s okay, Mom. It has been fun…most of the time.” Aja stepped out of the hug. “How many kids can say they lived in an ice cream truck?” When Aja was seven, they’d lived in North Carolina for a summer. They never found a real home to settle in so the two of them stayed with friends of friends until their welcome wore out. Her mom thought she could make enough to support them by driving the truck and doing her readings.
“It was only for a few weeks.” Aja’s mom sat back on the bed. “Until the thing broke down.”
“That was a day to remember.” Aja sat next to her. “We had to eat all the ice cream before it melted. It was a dream come true.”
“You’re a great kid. We’ve had some times.”
“Yeah, how many kids can say they shared a jail cell with their mom? Hey, how was the trip?”
“Good.” Aja’s mom got that wistful look. “Austin, now that would be a cool place to live.”
Chapter 15
True to his word, Walker was a great cook. The kitchen smelled of fresh butter-sautéed garlic. The three sat in Aja’s kitchen sopping their soy meat sauce with heavily buttered garlic bread.
“Now I’m really tired,” Aja said as she took a mouthful of food. She’d had almost two hours of sleep while Walker and her mom made dinner.
“Go back to bed. You need your rest more than you need to do homework,” her mom said, standing and picking up the plates.
Aja thought of seeing Freddy-Kruger-Clay-Richards under the tree. She shivered. “If I don’t get this work done I won’t graduate. I’m sick of that stupid school, and I want to get out no matter what.”
“You will, honey,” her mom said as she went to the sink. “Walker, tell me about your schooling. What are you studying?”
Walker smiled, melting the butter even more. “Good question. Basics mostly, but I’m interested in history, writing, everything. I was thinking of law school, but now I’m not so sure.”
“With Kendall?” Aja asked. “Or is she studying how to be the perfect beautiful housewife?”
“Who’s Kendall?” Aja’s mom asked.
“Kendall Stafford, Walker’s girlfriend,” Aja answered.
“My ex-girlfriend.” Walker pushed back from the table. “We are no longer an item.”
“Except she’s not aware of that.” Aja crossed her arms.
Aja’s mom watched with amusement, her hands coated with soapsuds. “If it’s meant to be, then let it happen.” She smiled at Aja, then asked Walker, “Aren’t you in an art class, too? How did you find out about the modeling position?”
This time, Walker’s blush blossomed so much Aja thought the room would glow red if she turned the lights off.
“I, uh, saw the flyer at school,” he stammered, playing with the breadbasket on the table. “Did you ever watch that show Fear Factor?”
“Yeah, a few times,” Aja said.
“It used to be my favorite show, and I swore I could have done all the challenges. I’m trying to step out of my comfort zone. You know, like bungee jumping or diving with sharks. My life has always been so predictable and stable, and I thought if I moved to Texas I would try new things.” He smiled again. “It was a sort of leap of faith. I wanted to do something unstable for a change.”
“What’s wrong with being stable?” Aja asked. “We’ve moved all over the place, and I sure don’t feel grounded.” She looked at her mother. “Not that it’s all bad, but sometimes I’ve wished for a real old-fashioned home.” She regretted saying it when she saw the sadness on her mom’s face.
“I’m sorry, honey. I thought it would be good for you.” Her mom was convinced the only way to really know a city was to live in it.
Walker grabbed the rest of the dishes from the table. “I guess nobody’s ever happy with their life.”
Walker’s phone rang, and he glanced at caller ID before he answered. He got a funny look on his face and glanced at Aja. “Yeah, she’s here. Her phone’s broken.” He handed his phone to Aja. “It’s Janie.”
Aja groaned. “I knew I should’ve called her.” She took the phone. “Hey, were you working by yourself tonight?”
“Yeah, but it’s restaurant night. Once a week there’s a bus that takes whoever wants to go out to eat, so we were slow.” Janie paused. “Mrs. Jensen passed away earlier this evening. I thought you’d want to know.”
The ache Aja felt surprised her. She didn’t really know the family, had never even spoken to Mrs. Jensen. But after being in her apartment, looking at all the framed pictures of a vibrant young woman, mother and wife, the news of her death pierced Aja’s soul. And Mr. Jensen, how was he? How would his life be after losing his Princess Buttercup?
Aja glanced at the clock. It was only eight. She’d have time to visit the family and still be able to study.
“I’ll be right there.”
Chapter 16
Aja had to tiptoe past Mrs. Poston’s apartment to get to the Jensens. She did not want the old woman to see her in case she asked her to fold laundry or do some other menial chore. She noticed Mrs. Poston’s door opened and raced past.
“China girl, is that you?”
Aja groaned and took a few steps back. “Yes, Mrs. Poston. I’m going to visit the Jensens.”
“Why? You’re not family.”
Aja stood in the doorway. “I know, but I feel bad for Mr. Jensen.”
“He has his daughters there. You’ll just get in the way. Come here and help me with something.”
Aja sighed and stepped into the apartment. The thermostat was still set to ninety and she could almost feel her skin blister. “Yes, Mrs. Poston.”
“I have some old photo albums up on that shelf.” She waved to a large bookcase against the wall. “I can’t reach the top, and I’m too unsteady to stand on a chair.”
Aja pulled a ladder-back chair from a dining room set and went to the case.
“Don’t use one of my good chairs,” Mrs. Poston huffed. “Get one of the kitchen chairs and take your grimy shoes off.”
Aja was tempted to knock the chair over and leave, but she felt a little bit sorry for the mean woman. As she walked to the kitchen, she saw some photographs on a credenza. It made her think of the many pictures in the Jensen’s apartment. There were only a few here. A wedding picture of Mrs. Poston, her hair still helmet sprayed in the same style. The only difference was that it was blonde. “Is this you?” Aja asked. She noticed Mrs. Poston towered over the groom, who wasn’t smiling, but then neither was the bride. She touched the frame and saw a vision of a young girl’s wrists being smacked with a riding crop. The image was so strong she actually felt the snap of pain. What she wasn’t sure was whether the girl was a young Mrs. Poston or her daughter.
She was jolted out of the vision by Mrs. Poston’s screechy voice.
“Are you being a no
sy busy body?”
“Sorry, whatever.” Aja sighed. “I was just asking.” She set the picture down and rubbed her wrists of the phantom pain and dutifully followed Mrs. Poston into the living room.
“Get me the photo albums. I want to show Kendall some pictures.”
Aja bristled at Kendall’s name. “I’m sure you two have a lot in common.”
“Yes, we do.” Mrs. Poston seemed to have missed the sarcasm in Aja’s voice.
Aja put the chair under the case and took her shoes off before she stood on it and retrieved two albums. She stepped off, grabbed her shoes and the chair, and hustled into the kitchen to put it away. She’d put her shoes on out in the hallway. “See you tomorrow.”
Mrs. Poston waved her off without even a thank you.
Aja scrambled into her shoes and took off to the Jensen’s. She realized she hadn’t brought flowers or a card. Was she supposed to? Aja didn’t know. She’d never lost anyone before.
The door to the Jensens’ was opened, and the small apartment was filled with people. Janie was there sitting on the sofa with Mr. Jensen. His daughters sat in chairs across from them, and a few other people, probably husbands and friends, milled around the living room. Two young children played on the floor in front of the TV. Mrs. Jensen’s hospital bed was still in the room, the sheets wadded and crumpled as if she’d just gotten out of bed. The IV stand still had a bag of medicine hanging from it, its tube dangled and twisted.
Poor Mr. Jensen looked dazed, but his eyes lit up a little when he saw Aja. “Princess Bride.” Then his countenance grew painfully sad again. “We lost her,” he whispered.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Jensen.”
He sat comatose, unmoving. Janie spoke up. “Hey, Aja. It’s nice of you to come. There’s a bunch of food in the kitchen. Help yourself.”
Lauren Jensen stood and hugged Aja. “Thanks for being here. You’ve been such a help.” Lauren’s face was puffy and blotched from crying. “We’re going to miss her so much.”
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