Between the Lines

by Jane Charles

  My gut is telling me that he’s innocent and my gut is never wrong. But, he has to know something and I intend to find out.

  Gabe – 5

  “Did you see this?” Mateo tosses me the newspaper as I come from my bedroom.

  “I just woke up.” It took me forever to get to sleep because of my raging hard on and thinking about what I wanted to do with Ellen. I grab a cup from the cupboard and pour myself some coffee, not even looking at the paper.

  “Look at it,” Mateo says with disgust before shoving another spoon of cereal in his mouth.

  “Fine!” I sit on the opposite side of the counter and start reading the headlines. “What am I looking for?” I’m not even sure my brain is awake. Why can’t he just tell me what has him so pissed?

  “Just keep reading. You’ll know it when you see it.”

  I’m not in the mood, but I do what he wants and read page after page of headlines. I’m not seeing anything that would put him in this mood. That is, until I get to the bottom of page seven, in small print. “Babysitter Recants. Charges dropped.” There are barely two paragraphs explaining that the girl had lied.

  “They couldn’t wait to get it on the front page on Sunday. It barely made print today.”

  “Fucking reporters!” At least they never named Jesse. That’s about the only thing they did right.

  There was a time I loved reporters and didn’t mind when the flash of their cameras nearly blinded me. But that was in high school and college, when I was all-star and had my pick of what college I wanted to play for. Hell, I didn’t even mind when they were reporting on my career ending injury. But, they became nasty after the incident at the middle school I taught at for a short time. Investigating me, as if it was my fault the kid got hurt and nothing was further from the truth. That’s when I started seeing reporters for what they really were. Too often responsibility in reporting takes a back seat to the agendas of the networks, and that facts are sometimes distorted, even omitted, if they’re even checked at all, the minute they learn of a potential scandalous or scintillating story. It’s all about selling papers or magazines, getting more readers online and having the most viewed newscast. The competition to be on top seems to be more important than the complete unbiased truth at times.

  Is that one of the reasons Ellen doesn’t want to work for a paper? I know she said she wanted to report on what she picked and I can only hope she has higher ethics than the ones I’ve encountered recently.

  “Speaking of reporters.” Mateo is grinning at me. “Are you seeing Ellen today?”

  “Yep.”

  “Can you do me a favor and put something like a sock on the door to warn me away. Or better yet, use your bedroom.”

  “Shove it!” I growl and get up. Neither one of us have had a girl in the place the entire time we’ve lived here. This is a new situation for both of us. “I won’t be sleeping with her.”

  He coughs. “That’s not what it looked like to me.”

  I go to the fridge, not certain what I’m going to make for breakfast.

  “Unless you don’t realize that’s what you were about to do. I’ve got books that can explain. You know, the birds and the bees and that shit.”

  I glare at him over my shoulder before I grab the milk. Then stop. We never ate our dessert. I ignore Mateo, grab my cup of coffee, and go to my room. I know exactly what we’re having for breakfast and my roommate isn’t invited.

  Ellen

  I jerk awake at the pounding on my door and glance around. I can’t believe I slept on the couch last night. I just wanted to rest my eyes for a bit after all the research, not that I was able to learn much more because despite my best efforts, I couldn’t concentrate. I just knew I couldn’t go into the bedroom, at the back of the apartment where I could be trapped.

  I can’t believe Krestyanov is getting a new trial. I thought it was all behind me. The phones were just a precaution. They weren’t supposed to ever ring again.

  Whoever it is knocks again and I pull myself from the couch and look through the peephole. I blow out the breath I wasn’t aware I was holding when I see Gabe and open the door. “What time is it?”

  “Almost nine.”

  “Nine!” I wanted to be out of here a lot earlier, and on a train to New York, where I could dump the phone. I can’t lose it here. The town is too small. If it’s tracked, not that it should be, but my paranoia goes in to high gear where Krestyanov is concerned and I want to get rid of it in a place where it’s nearly impossible to find.

  “I didn’t think you had plans.”

  “I didn’t, but I do now.”

  The smile slips from his face and I notice he’s holding one of the containers from last night.

  “What’s that?”

  “Breakfast.”

  My stomach revolts. I so cannot eat chicken parmesan for breakfast. “Leftovers?”

  “Dessert.” He grins.

  I had forgotten about the tiramisu. “As delicious as it sounds, I can’t eat that first thing.”

  “Okay,” he says and walks into my kitchen putting it away. “I’ll check in with you later, to see if you want to do anything.”

  Later. I don’t know when that will even be. It takes over an hour to get into the city. Then I have to find a place to lose the phone and then come back here.

  I look up into his light blue eyes. Nobody says I need to go alone. “Why don’t you come with me?”

  He lifts and eyebrow. “Where?”

  “I’m going into the city.”

  “Why?”

  Shit! I can’t tell him the truth. “To see a musical,” I blurt out the first thing that comes to me. “I decided last night after seeing what’s playing.” Damn, I hate lying.

  “Which one?”

  I’m trying to think of what I wanted to see when I went back. “Gigi! It opened on April 8th.”

  “I’ve never heard of it.”

  Dumbfounded, all I can do is stare at him. “Not even the movie with Leslie Caron?”

  Gabe shrugs. “I’m a dumb jock, remember.”

  There is nothing about Gabe that is dumb and I laugh. “Have you read Collette?”

  “Of course,” he answers as if affront and then his eyes widen. “That Gigi?”

  I roll my eyes at him. Maybe his brain is a little thick. “Yes, it’s based on the book.”

  “What time?” He seems a lot more interested than he was at first.

  I slide my fingers across the mouse, waking up my laptop. The Baxter website pops up and I quickly close it and search for tickets. Hopefully, Gabe didn’t notice. “They don’t have a matinee. It starts at eight.”

  “That’s not a problem,” he says, sitting on the couch. “We can stay in the city or drive back late.”

  “I’m taking the train.”

  “Then, we’ll stay.”

  I bite my lip. What if he wants to share a room? I’m not sure I’m ready for intimacy. Of course, twelve hours ago I would have stripped in an instant, but in the light of day, I realize how foolish that would have been. I don’t even know him and learned no more last night about him or Baxter. “We can stay at my apartment. Actually, my friend, Paige owns it, but we’ve been roommates since junior year.” The living arrangements are perfect. It’s close to Columbia, my name isn’t on a lease or mortgage anywhere, and she’s glad to have someone living there while she’s on tour. “Paige’s gone right now, not that she’d mind anyway.”

  “Great. When do you want to leave?”

  “In an hour. After I shower?”

  His jaw drops. “That show isn’t for hours.”

  And I need to get there sooner than later. “We can make a day of it.” I smile and head down the hall. This is the perfect opportunity to get to know him better and to find out what I can about Baxter. Not that I can really concentrate on the school right now. I’ve got a phone to ditch and bad guys to avoid. Besides, that girl said that the teachers probably weren’t even aware of what was really happening so m
aybe Gabe is clueless. And, he wasn’t even employed by Baxter when the girl left, so he might not have any idea what was going on when she was a student.

  Gabe – 6

  What isn’t Ellen telling me and why was she looking at Baxter’s website? I glance over at her. We’re seated side by side on the train and she’s reading a magazine. It’s hard to talk privately on the crowded train, not that we’d discuss anything that we wouldn’t want anyone to overhear. We don’t know each other well enough to have private conversations and the reason I’m having so many questions.

  She’s not being honest, that’s for sure. Not that I’ve caught her in a lie, but I could swear she was making the whole plan up about seeing Gigi while I was standing in her apartment.

  Was she going to sneak out so she wouldn’t have to face me after last night, but I showed up on her doorstep? Was she regretting what we’d done? Not that we’d done all that much, but maybe she didn’t like it?

  That isn’t it. She wanted me as much as I wanted her and if Mateo hadn’t walked in on us, I’m sure we would have been waking up with each other. So, what’s going on with Ellen?

  Why is she researching Baxter? Was it simple curiosity because Mateo and I work there or more?

  I could ask her, but after the way she danced around going to the theatre, I’m not certain I’d get a straight answer.

  And, she is a reporter.

  Shit!

  Did she read about Jesse in the newspaper or see it on television? Even though his name was never mentioned and the only link to his identity was “an art teacher, who owns a studio in town, and had a child, was being investigated. Did she figure it out and is here to snoop around?

  But, she moved into the apartment before the news broke. Maybe even before the accusations and arrest, so, it isn’t Jesse, but it’s something.

  “Why were you looking up Baxter?”

  She blinks up at me, her brown eyes innocent. Or are they? “You and Mateo work there. I was curious.”

  I nod. I shouldn’t mistrust her just because she’s a journalist. I certainly wasn’t mistrusting her yesterday when I had her beneath me. Maybe I just need sleep. I didn’t get that much last night, not with thinking about Ellen and what we could have been doing. “It’s just an art school for high school students.”

  “But they live there.”

  I shrug. “It’s a boarding school. That’s about it.”

  “I think it’s interesting.” Ellen puts her book aside. “I’ve never been to a boarding school before. What’s it like?”

  And she won’t be visiting Baxter, unless I take her, and only after she’s been vetted. “Dorms, classrooms, a cafeteria. A mini college set-up of sorts.”

  “It used to be a plantation, right?”

  I laugh. “The only thing left is the house, the original kitchen, a carriage house, blacksmith’s building, and a few cabins.”

  “I still think it’s fascinating though, but what kind of parent ships their kids off to a boarding school? I get military academies for the troublemakers, but these kids are artists and musicians. They aren’t the ones usually causing problems at school. It’s got to suck to have your parent send you away.”

  Nobody’s parent sent their kid there, at least not in the traditional sense. “Don’t know. I just teach English, Literature and Creative Writing.” It’s the same answer I gave her before and I’m not about to feed her any more information about Baxter, even if she is fascinated.

  “Have you always liked English?”

  “I’ve always liked reading,” I answer honestly. She seems a bit surprised. “I know, most jocks don’t know how to read.”

  She laughs while she blushes. I’m not offended. It’s a stereotype I’ve had to live with.

  “What do you like to read?”

  “Anything and everything.” I hand over my e-reader. “Take a look for yourself.”

  She starts sliding her finger across the screen, reading the titles, I assume, silently. “Mystery, Sci-fi, Fantasy, and even romance.”

  “I like to read.”

  She goes back to swipe the page again. “Classics, Military, New Adult, Young Adult, and what is this.”

  Shit!

  “Why, Mr. Kent, do your students know you read erotica?”

  My face is getting warm. At least she whispered the last word. “I read everything.”

  “Is it any good?” She blinks innocently at me.

  “We could read it together and find out.”

  Ellen sucks in a breath and her face turns red. “That may not be such a good idea.” She hands my e-reader back. “Especially on a crowded train.”

  Maybe that’s why she was skittish this morning. Things did move very fast yesterday. I relax back into my seat. I’m worried about nothing. She’s a nice girl. Sexy as hell, but sweet. And, I do need to get to know her better, which will make the first time we have sex all the better.

  “Have you always been a reader?”

  “As far back as I can remember.” Mostly hiding it from my father because my time was better spent practicing one sport or another. Unless it was the newspaper, reading was a waste of time and for girls or sissies. He’d probably take his belt to me if he saw a romance on the reader. Then again, Dad hasn’t reached for his belt since I was sixteen and looked him in the eye, almost daring him to hit me one more time.

  The train starts pulling into the station and I shove my e-reader into my backpack as Ellen grabs her stuff. Pain shoots up my thigh when I stand. I sat too long with it bent, unable to stretch out in these seats. I grab my cane and wait for break in the traffic before stepping out in the aisle and letting her go ahead of me. I hate that I have to move so slow and need to rely on my cane so much, but I can’t help it until it loosens up. The people behind me are probably grumbling about the old man holding them up.

  When we reach the exit, I hook the cane over my arm, grab the handrails and hop down the steps on one foot.

  Ellen’s brown eyes are full of worry. “Let’s take a cab,” she blurts out.

  “I just need to let it loosen up. Besides, if I don’t walk on it some, I’ll never make it through a production at the theatre.”

  Ellen

  He might not admit it, but Gabe is in a lot of pain. He may think he’s hiding it but he’s not. It’s in his squinted blue eyes and in the white tightness around his mouth. He needs to get that leg stretched out, or some medication, or ice or something. “Is there anything you can take?”

  “I’ll get some Ibuprofen when we get a chance.”

  That isn’t going to help. Not that kind of pain he is in. That’s what you take for a headache. “You don’t have anything stronger?”

  “Back at the apartment, but I rarely take it.”

  I wheel around on him. “Why the hell not?”

  “It’s a narcotic.”

  “So?” If I was in as much pain as he seems to be, I’d be taking whatever I could get my hands on.

  “I’ve seen too many guys become addicted to them. Athletes that have too many injuries. They dope up so they can keep playing and then they can’t survive without them.”

  Interesting that he doesn’t like drugs, even those prescribed. It makes me think he’s innocent of any wrongdoing at Baxter because I can’t imagine he would remain silent if he knew kids were getting drugged up. “So, you just plan to tough it out?”

  “Unless it’s impossible not to.”

  I shake my head and turn back to the exit from Penn Station. “Wait here,” I tell him and to go hail a taxi. Luckily there are at least a dozen waiting to pick up passengers. I wave over to Gabe, who is already making his way toward me and we get inside.

  “Where to?”

  “Central Park,” I answer and settle back before glancing over at Gabe. He did say he needed to stretch his leg and I can’t go to the apartment yet. Gabe lays his head back and closes his eyes. At least I know I have an ice pack.

  Since he’s not paying attention to me, I slip m
y hand inside my bag and grab my cell phones. I have three on me right now. My regular one, for Ellen West, and the number I give everyone. The burner I charged overnight, and the one that needs to disappear. My bag is huge and I look inside, clicking on the flashlight of the iPhone so I can tell the other two apart. The one with the big blue “X” is the one that has to go. I palm it and slip it out of the bag, then shove it in the gap in the back seat of the cab without Gabe having a clue. If anyone is tracking the phone, they’ll have a hell of a time finding me after it’s gone all over New York and back. Worst case scenario, they’ll know I took the train into New York and went to Central Park. They’ll never track me from there. It’d be impossible.

  The taxi pulls up to one of the many entrances and I pay him, adding a generous tip and get out. Gabe glances around. “I haven’t been here in a long time.”

  “You did say you wanted to walk a bit.”

  He grimaces and starts off.

  “Are you hungry? We can get something to eat?”

  “Nah. Just let me work this out for a bit.”

  I match my pace with his, looking over my shoulder in every direction. I sure hope I’m just being paranoid and nobody is tracking me. I haven’t looked over my shoulder in so long and am not used to it anymore.

  Gabe – 7

  The leg is feeling better, now that I’ve walked around on it a bit and able to stretch out the cramped muscles from riding on the train. My legs are long enough that they would have cramped whether I had a bum knee or not and it’s always been a pain in the ass.

  I smile over at Ellen. She’s so concerned, and really, this is nothing. I’ve been in far worse pain. But, I’ve been a downer since we got off the train and should make it up to her. “What else do you want to do? Central Park is nice and all, but there are far more exciting things to do in New York.”

  “What about your leg?” She’s biting her bottom lip and I find it absolutely adorable. Plus, it makes me want to kiss her.