Naughty & Nice

by J. S. Scott

A muffled female voice called, “Come on in.”

  With a hive of bees buzzing in his chest, Josh pushed the door open and glanced into the foyer.

  “I’m in the kitchen,” the woman said from somewhere deeper in the house.

  He stepped into the small tiled foyer and shut the door. The thick, fresh scent of pine hit him first, which he guessed was coming from the tree in the window of another room facing the street. This formal living room had been decorated elaborately with pine branches and holy leaves on the fireplace mantel, and prettily wrapped presents stacked alongside the brick hearth.

  Two elderly women sat on either end of a blue sofa, watching television. Neither took their eyes off the set, when Josh walked in. Both sat upright and still, hands in their laps, reminding Josh of a pew in church. The rosary sliding through one of the women’s fingers might have helped that impression along.

  “Hi, there.” Josh stepped into the living room, and both women turned to look at him.

  The woman with the rosary returned her attention to the television without a word. The other woman did the same, but pointed at the screen with a pride filled, “That’s my husband, right there, Regis.”

  Josh glanced at the TV where Regis Philbin, a popular morning talk show host from years past, was interviewing a celebrity in what had to be a rerun. Josh’s rough age calculation made the statement possible, but he guessed, highly implausible.

  “Really,” he said, sliding his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “He’s a pretty big celebrity.”

  The woman nodded, her smile blissful. On screen, applause erupted and Josh glanced over to find Philbin speaking to the camera with a grin, a wink and a, “We’ll be right back. Don’t go away.”

  “That was just for me,” the fabled wife said, never taking her gaze off the television as a commercial for toothpaste replaced the talk show rerun. “That smile, that wink. Just for me. And the message, too.” She sighed dramatically. “He’s such a sweet man.” She seemed lost in her own world a long moment before she popped out with, “Tammy’s making tuna sandwiches for lunch.”

  Josh was still trying to find the relevance in the two disjointed topics when movement drew his gaze to the room beyond. A woman in her early sixties with black and silver hair, wearing a bright red, kiss-the-cook apron, appeared in an archway, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel.

  “Oh, hello. I’m sorry. I thought you were one of our regulars.” She started through the living room and offered her hand. “I’m Tammy, owner of Safe Haven.”

  “Josh—“ he started.

  “Tammy,” the older woman interrupted. “Did you just see Regis wink at me? He knows I love it when he does that.”

  “Handsome devil,” Tammy responded. Then to Josh, “Do you mind talking in the kitchen? I’m making lunches.”

  “Sure.” He followed her past a large dining table that could seat twelve and into a large kitchen where the wall over the sink was lined with windows, looking out onto a garden. At the center of the garden, Grace sat at a table with Carolyn.

  At first glance, Josh’s heart took a hit. Carolyn, the vibrant, funny, free-spirited seventy-five year old had aged ten years since he’d last seen her. On the table, a bowl of cereal...Cheerios...sat between the women and each was threading them onto a piece of yellow yarn.

  “How can I help you?” Tammy asked.

  Josh refocused on Tammy. She leaned her hip against the counter where bread was laid out next to a large bowl of what clearly looked and smelled like Tuna salad. “Sorry to interrupt. I’m a friend of Grace and Carolyn. I don’t know how your visitor rules work... I’m just in town for a few days and thought I’d stop by...”

  “Josh...” Tammy said thoughtfully, shifting toward the counter and scooping a spoonful of salad onto one piece of bread. “Oh, Josh.” She turned again, face open with excitement. Her eyes were light and bright, some shade of hazel. “Navy SEAL?”

  He smiled, confused, but comfortable with this warm welcome. “Former, yes.”

  “Right, right. A shoulder injury?”

  His confusion deepened, unsure who’d been talking about him, Carolyn or Grace.

  “Oh, I’ve heard so much about you.” Tammy gestured with the spoon, and a dollop of tuna salad hit the tile. “Oh, dear... I’m sorry.”

  Josh grabbed a paper towel from the roll on the sink. “No worries. I’ve got it.”

  “Thank you. I’m so excited to finally meet you. Carolyn talks about you non-stop when she’s lucid. My, oh, my, she couldn’t have been more proud of you if you’d been her own son.”

  “I think you have me mixed up with her former son-in-law, Isaac Beck. He’s also a SEAL.”

  “No, no, I know all about Isaac. And all the other men in your team. I think there was a Boomer, Digger, Big Joe... But there’s no doubt you were her favorite. Yep, I’ve heard all about you, mister charmer.” Her grin made Josh wonder just what Carolyn had said. “Carolyn will be so thrilled you’re here— Oh...”

  She trailed off as if she’d just remembered something, and a shadow darkened her expression.

  “What?” he asked when she didn’t continue.

  “It’s just... She’s having a rough day, and there’s no guarantee she’ll remember you. People from the past can be a positive trigger, bringing back a whole range of memory, but they can also cause stress and anxiety, which...well....

  “I’m sure Grace has told you that Carolyn hasn’t recognized her since Betty passed. That was her roommate.” She shook her head and gazed out the window at the women. “It’s been really rough on Grace. I’m so glad she has someone to lean on now. We all need that, don’t we?” She smiled sadly at Josh. “Even you big strong SEALs lean on each other, right?”

  I’ve got you covered, buddy. They’ll have to get through me to get to you. Beck’s words to Josh on that horrible day filled his head. Followed by his recent favor request. I need to know she’s okay. I trust you. If you say she’s safe, I’ll know she’s safe. Then I’ll be square.

  Josh cleared his throat, emotions cluttering his heart. “Yes, ma’am. Everyone needs help once in a while.”

  Outside an angry outburst drew Josh’s gaze back to the women. With a frustrated cry, Carolyn slapped her hands on the table. She hit the bowl, shooting Cheerios everywhere. And when the little O’s hit her, she screamed, batting them away like bees. Josh gripped the counter with one hand, muscles coiled to act. “Should we—”

  “Not yet.” Tammy closed a hand around Josh’s forearm. “I’m going to have to stop letting Carolyn do this project.” A wry warmth filled her voice. “We string the Cheerios for the birds because she loves watching them through the window, but when she’s lucid, she says they look like feathered bowling balls and claims we’re promoting sparrow obesity.”

  Grace jumped up, wrapping her arms around Carolyn from behind, trapping her arms at her sides while she spoke quietly in her ear.

  “Grace is really good with her.” Tammy’s hand eased off Josh’s arm, and she set the spoon down. “The less chaos for Carolyn when she has a moment, the better.”

  Carolyn burst into tears and slumped in her chair. Grace pressed her face to her mother’s hair. Then she laid her cheek against her mother’s head, speaking softly, rocking her gently, while tears glistened on Grace’s cheeks.

  “Oh, dear...”

  The empathy in Tammy’s voice resonated in Josh’s chest. His eyes burned. His heart ached. And his whole view of his role in Grace’s life shifted.

  “I can see this isn’t the best day for a visit,” he said.

  “I’m so sorry.” Tammy turned an uncertain smile on Josh. “Please come back another time. When Carolyn is in a better place, I know she’ll enjoy your visit. I know seeing you with Grace will bring her absolute joy and peace.”

  Joy and peace.

  The thought of staying with Grace, of being her support, brought Josh the same sense of joy and peace...among other emotions.

  Yes. He’d definitely b
e back.

  * * * * *

  Grace stepped out onto Safe Haven’s front porch, feeling hollow, fragile and bruised all at the same time. The memory of her mother coming unglued because she hadn’t been able to thread a goddamned Cheerio onto a freaking piece of yarn burst behind her eyelids again, and her knees buckled. She slid along the door until her butt hit the cement, covered her head with her arms and burst into tears.

  They didn’t last long. Maybe twenty seconds. Crying took energy, and after a sleepless night, she was physically drained and emotionally wiped out. The episode with her mother—mild in the scheme of things—had just pushed her over the edge.

  Now, she had to go spend three hours at cheer practice pretending to be bubbly and enthusiastic for twenty-two seventeen year olds, followed by another eight hours of teaching women how to be enthusiastically sexy for men looking for a fantasy escape.

  Days like this made her want to just give up. The only thing that keep dragging her back to her feet was the thought of how often her mother must have felt just like Grace did now while she’d been raising her alone, working two jobs. And she’d always been there to greet Grace with a smile, dry her tears with soft words of hope, and cheer Grace through life while struggling through her own.

  She pushed to her feet and dried her face. She’d be okay. Her mom would be okay. Grace just needed to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Focus kept her moving forward, right up until she found Josh sitting on her hood, cross trainers propped on her bumper, elbows on knees.

  Her stomach dropped. Her shoulders followed. But her heart was already shattered and numb. “I can’t do this, Josh. I really can’t.”

  He pushed from the hood, his stance relaxed, but his expression serious. “When did this happen?”

  “Last year. Listen, I have to get to cheer practice—“

  “When she came to see me in the hospital, she was perfectly fine.”

  Grace sighed heavily. “No, she wasn’t. She hasn’t been fine for nearly ten years, she’s just been hiding it because she didn’t want to burden me.” The thought of her mother being a burden after all she’d done for Grace was ludicrous, and just pushed her anger higher and her sadness deeper. “She started taking medication two years ago, but it hasn’t helped. She was doing better before her roommate died...”

  Emotion welled up in Grace’s throat and she couldn’t go on.

  “Will it get better?” he asked, his voice filled with the same distress Grace has lived with for the past year.

  “No.” The word came out half-rasp, half-whisper. The will to keep all her emotions stuffed away made Grace tremble.

  Josh approached her in slow, thoughtful steps. She wanted to back away, but the utter emotional defeat had robbed her of the will to move. And when he wrapped her in his arms, she squeezed her eyes closed, buried her face in his T-shirt...and broke. Just started balling.

  His arms tightened as he pressed kisses to her hair. Stroked her back. Rocked her gently side to side. Her second jag in ten minutes dried up as quickly as the first, but she felt completely and utterly defeated.

  “I want to help,” he murmured in that low rumbling voice.

  Again, too little too late.

  She knew she should let go and step back, but, God, she needed someone to lean on so badly. “There’s nothing you can do. There’s nothing anyone can do. It just...is.”

  His hands stroked across her shoulders, those big warm hands on her skin, sliding intimately over her Lycra tank, curving over the small of her back and traveling up her spine to the back of her neck. She wanted so badly to lift her face to his neck, to breath him in, to taste his skin, to lick his lips the way she had last night. Craved the pressure of him between her legs, the sizzle of skin on skin.

  “Let me take over the expenses here,” he murmured, cupping her head and kissing her temple. “I have the money, and you can’t keep running these crazy hours, Grace. You come here, then you go to cheer practice, then you’re at the club until an ungodly hour. You’re going to make yourself sick, then where will you be?”

  The heat glowing at the center of her body immediately cooled, her defenses prickled, and she pushed away. “You realize that when you tell me I can’t do something it just makes me want to prove you wrong, don’t you?”

  “I didn’t mean can’t as in can’t, I just—“

  “Mom worked two jobs and raised me for over twenty years. I sure as hell can do it for as long as she needs me. And dammit, there’s more to the club than just money. Didn’t you hear what I told you last night?”

  “I did—“

  “I may have taken the job to pay for mom’s care, but I’ve built it into something different and special. Something unique. I would still work at the club even if I didn’t need the job for mom.”

  “I know, Grace,” he said, gently, seriously. “I talked to the owner last night. He thinks of you like a daughter. Brags about how much business you’ve brought in. How much the girls love you. How you’re the damn glue that keeps that place together.”

  She pressed her lips together, not sure how to feel. Or what to believe.

  “I don’t want to tell you what to do,” he said. “I just want you safe and happy. And I want Carolyn comfortable. I love her, too.”

  A mixed flurry of emotion swept in, whirling into chaos. He was able to say he loved her mother, but not her. His offer, while sweet and generous, was also ignorant and short-sighted. And the bottom line was....she couldn’t depend on him in any way that mattered.

  “I know you mean well, Josh, but that’s unrealistic in more ways than I have time to explain right now.”

  He blew out a breath, shifted on his feet and put his hands on his hips. “What can I do?”

  She crossed her arms. “You can leave, Josh,” she said, in her gentlest voice even though a sense of loss raged inside her. “Because we both know you’ve created your life somewhere else, and you’re going to leave eventually anyway. It would be better for all of us if you left sooner rather than later.”

  She opened the driver’s door and Josh caught the top in one big hand. “Grace, I’m not leaving like this.”

  “Like what? Like this?” She gestured between them, indicating the conflict brewing. “This is how you left it a year ago. And nothing’s changed.”

  She sat and pulled on the door, but Josh didn’t let go. “Everything’s changed. And I’m going to find a way to help—both you and Carolyn.”

  She heaved a sigh, struggling to hold onto her patience while gathering her last whisper of strength to meet his eyes deliberately. “I’m late for cheer practice. Please let go, Josh, I need the money.”

  Chapter Five

  Grace pulled her car around to the back of the club, her mind calculating where Josh might be. If he’d left town directly from Safe Haven, he could be waiting on his flight home to Philadelphia. Pushing him away had been heart wrenching, but she had priorities, and he’d chosen not to be among them. She’d just have to find a way to get over it. Eventually, she would. Her mother’s Alzheimer’s had forced Grace to face a lot of tough times and heartbreaking choices.

  She stopped beside the back door, which had been propped open. Drywall leaned against the building and tools were lined up along the wall.

  “Oh, jeez,” she muttered, glancing around the lot for a work van. “What’s broken now?”

  She only hoped the cost to fix whatever it was wouldn’t interfere with the planned storeroom renovation. Dean had already put her studio on hold once, waiting for his lousy brother-in-law to get his shit together and do the job. Grace had finally convinced him to move forward with a different contractor, but their bids had come in on the high side. Any extra expense or dip in revenue would delay the project again. And she needed that space—one she would lease from Dean to start her own teaching school.

  Dread snaked down her spine as she pulled the groceries and giant lasagna out of the trunk. She usually cooked for the girls herself. It was cheape
r, healthier and she enjoyed doing it, but Josh had thrown a wrench into her plans by showing up, so tonight, dinner was from Costco.

  She stepped through the back door and scanned the massive dressing room, already buzzing with a dozen dancers pulling out costumes, applying makeup, and styling their hair.

  “Hi, ladies,” Grace called, her greeting echoed from the others as she set the food down at the other end of the table where one of Jasmine’s four year old twins was sitting at the only table, coloring. A mix of African American and Hispanic, the twins were the most beautiful creatures Grace had ever met. They were also as sweet as sugar and as gregarious as their father. “Hi, Dillon. Where’s your mom?”

  He looked up with those huge, innocent brown eyes, twirling a blue crayon between his fingers. “Don’t know.”

  Grace nodded at his drawing. “What’s that?”

  “Transformer. Santa’s gonna bring me one for Christmas.”

  “Cool,” she said. “Where’s your brother?”

  “Helping the builder man.”

  Grace looked left, toward the storeroom she already considered her dance studio. The double doors were open and more tools and power cords lay at the threshold. The rattle of a tape measure caught Grace’s ear and she frowned. What in the hell could be broken in there?

  “Does anyone know where Jasmine is?” Grace asked the room at large. Jasmine was the dancer with the longest history at Allure, and often acted as the house mom when no house mom was around.

  “Right here.” She came around the corner from the club’s main stage. She was the most stunning black woman Grace had ever met, with one of those killer, Amazonian bodies—tall, muscular, and built. She’d pulled her long black braids off her face and wore workout tights and tank. “Rocco will be here in ten minutes to pick up the boys.”

  “They’re never a problem. I’m worried about whatever’s going on back there, though. Please tell me it’s not something major like air conditioning, heating, or plumbing.”

  “Nothing broken back there, honey.” Dillon and Dalton’s mother came up beside Grace, and used one perfectly manicured dark hand to lift the aluminum. “What’d you bring us?”