Side Effects

by VK Powell

  When she reached the office, Rosemary had everything she’d asked for ready. She’d scattered House Bill 695 across the worktable and highlighted the segments of interest. Neela dropped her briefcase, grabbed a mug of coffee, and put on her glasses before staring at the three pages of text bleeding yellow.

  “How did you get your hands on this? It hasn’t been released yet.”

  “Don’t ask. I’ve been reading it since last night but didn’t want to bother you until I was sure we needed to be concerned.”

  “Tell me,” Neela said.

  “Nineteen of our highly regarded Republican representatives put forth this bill, ostensibly to ensure the state would be safe from the application of foreign law.”

  Neela shook her head. “What does that even mean, and how does it impact us?”

  “I’m getting to that. You better sit down.” Neela continued to pace. “Sharia law was the focus of the original bill—an overreaction to fear and prejudice against the Islamic culture. The name of the bill was changed to the Family, Faith, and Freedom Protection Act, and three pages of abortion-related legislation were added. It contains limits on abortion funding under certain health plans, including those of local governments, outlaws sex-selective abortions, and requires the physical presence of a physician during an abortion procedure.”

  “Jesus, are these people totally insane? They’ll set the state back fifty years, not to mention endanger women’s lives.”

  “And create a boom in the sale of wire coat hangers.” Neela cringed at the reference. “There’s more. The bill would also require clinics certified by the Department of Health and Human Services to meet the standards required of ambulatory surgical centers.”

  Neela finally slumped into a chair as the ramifications registered. “That would close every abortion clinic in the state except one, and that’s not enough to meet the demand.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Have our people heard about this yet?”

  “I’m not sure, but you know how rumors spread. We should probably prepare them for the worst because I think it’s coming.”

  “If they were just rumors, we might stand a chance. Rose, you know we can’t get involved in this directly, but we have to notify everyone with an interest in this legislation. They have to rally their supporters and make a blitz effort to derail this catastrophe before it goes too far—if it hasn’t already.”

  “I’m on it, boss.”

  This was what she’d dreaded since Matt Lloyd took office. He seemed determined to obliterate the progress made by the former administration and railroad his conservative agenda through regardless of whom it hurt. “I need a minute.” Rosemary had seen her on overload before, but right now she had to appear professionally calm and in charge.

  She left her office and hurried past other employees along the corridor to the ladies’ room. Pulling a drying cloth from the stack, she dampened it with cold water and locked herself in a stall. The temptation to stay in this tiny, isolated cubicle was strong. If she didn’t come out, she wouldn’t have to deal with the avalanche of unpleasant news and bad decisions teetering at the pinnacle of state government.

  Neela sat down and held the cool fabric against her forehead. As her breathing calmed, she thought of the people who coordinated programs with the clinics throughout the state. She’d hosted the department Christmas party for them for several years, attended parties at their homes, and sent gifts for their children’s birthdays and graduations. She had no doubt what unemployment would do to their families. Her most important task was to save as many jobs as possible, even if it meant walking away from her own.

  With renewed determination, she opened the stall door and momentarily froze. The door smacked her backside and urged her dangerously close to Jordan Bishop, who leaned nonchalantly against the sink. Before she could decide what to say, Jordan moved into her personal space.

  “Are you all right?”

  She looked up into those azure eyes, surprised by something she hadn’t seen there before, warmth. Jordan sounded almost concerned. Or was she curious? Maybe she was simply feigning concern to up the stakes in whatever adrenaline-fueled game she’d decided to play with Neela. “Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

  “You were upset when you left your office.”

  “How could you possibly—” Then she remembered the cameras, but how could Jordan know she was upset just by watching? She’d controlled herself until she was out of Rosemary’s sight, which would’ve also been outside the camera’s range.

  “Your body language isn’t as relaxed and open. The set of your shoulders isn’t as confident. You’ve got small worry lines around your eyes, and—”

  “Never mind. Forget I asked.” Knowing Jordan had studied her so closely, and seen so much, made her feel vulnerable yet special. She moved around Jordan to wash her hands and felt her watching every move. “Did you need something, detective?”

  “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. You were out of camera range, and I volunteered to check on you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s my job and…”

  Jordan stepped even closer, and Neela’s mind filled in the blank. Because she wanted to see me, to be close to me, to kiss me again. Her body registered the possibility with a shard of arousal before her mind clicked into gear. “And what?”

  “I thought you might want to talk about what happened yesterday—that kiss.”

  Yes, please. Absolutely not. Oh yes. No! “No need. Let’s just say I got carried away, and I apologize. That kind of daring and spontaneity probably happens to you a lot.” But not to me.

  “Actually—”

  “Detective, let’s not make a kiss more than it was. It happened. It’s over. It was a mistake. Now, as you can see, I’m fine, and I really need to get back to work.” She tried to reach the trash bin behind Jordan, who didn’t budge. As Neela pulled back, she got a whiff of something different—not Jordan’s usual musky fragrance—stale sex and booze—and it simultaneously repulsed and aroused her. “Detective Bishop, I can’t do this today.”

  “Do what?” Jordan raked her fingers through her hair and skimmed her hand down the side of her leather jacket, hitching her thumb over her belt. The ostensibly simple motion seemed like an invitation, and Neela’s insides quivered. She placed a hand over her stomach and prayed for strength.

  “This.” She wiggled her finger between them. “I have more important things to think about than whatever game you’re playing. People’s lives and jobs are on the line, and I can’t be distracted.” And she was definitely distracted and annoyed with herself for being so weak.

  Jordan propped her hands on the counter behind her and leaned back, effectively blocking her access to the bin and the exit.

  “Please let me pass.” She reached around Jordan again and purposely bumped her right shoulder to get out.

  “Ouch. Holy crap.” Jordan cradled her arm like Neela had seriously injured her. “Careful.”

  “What’s wrong? Have you been hurt?” Jordan’s neck and cheeks flushed a bright shade of pink, and heat rose on Neela’s own skin. “Never mind. It’s none of my business.” She’d already imagined Jordan in the arms of an amorous lover, rough play, and several sensitive body parts. That could explain the bloodshot eyes and faint scent of liquor and sex. “Do you even remember her name?” Her arousal evaporated in a cloud of irritation verging on jealousy that only increased her annoyance.

  “Who?”

  “The woman who made you so sore this morning.” She had no right to ask and hated herself for letting Jordan know she cared enough to do so.

  “Lilly, and we’re not—”

  “I really don’t care.” Neela turned and slammed the door on her way out. Games. This woman was all about games, and Neela didn’t have time for someone so frivolous and shallow.

  Jordan followed her down the hall. “I know we got off to a rough start, but how about a walk? The fresh air might help clear your head
before you go back in there.”

  “I don’t think so, detective. My head is quite clear. You’re the one who could use an airing.”

  “Call me Jordan.” She blocked Neela’s path and stood her ground, staring at her with eyes that seemed to devour her. “Please.”

  She’d never expected to hear Jordan Bishop use that word, and it resonated through her like a cry for help. She should say no. Jordan was always a hair trigger away from her next angry explosion. Whatever her personal circumstances, she was a complication Neela couldn’t handle. Her life was already like a ticking time bomb with the governor’s agenda, the situation at home, her stem-cell research, and Liz lobbying for more than friendship. But for some unfathomable reason, she didn’t object when Jordan guided her with a hand in the small of her back through the exit and out toward the athletic field.

  Jordan’s energy vibrated against her, compounding the inevitable conflict that appeared whenever she was near. Why was she repeatedly drawn to someone so completely opposite to everything she believed in and cared about? They walked for several minutes before Jordan spoke. “Why are you so upset?” Her soft tone was laced with concern.

  Neela couldn’t look at her or she’d surrender her troubles in a gush of details. “Just work.” She desperately wanted to let someone else assume, if only for a moment, the responsibilities that never seemed to wane. But it couldn’t be Jordan. She could barely contain her own temper. How could she shoulder even a fragment of Neela’s problems?

  “You said people’s lives and jobs were on the line. Did you mean that literally?”

  “The jobs, yes. Their lives, figuratively.”

  “Talk to me.”

  “Why should I, Jordan? You’ve made it abundantly clear you don’t like me or even respect me. Why would I possibly share anything with you?”

  “I never intended—I mean, I’m just not good with—” The expressions on Jordan’s face changed like cartoon drawings: first confusion, followed by consternation, pain, surrender, and finally humor. “I’m bound by the super-secret code of cop conduct not to repeat anything you tell me in the course of this investigation.”

  “You’ve already violated several codes of conduct.” Neela laughed as Jordan crossed her heart and saluted in some made-up pledge of silence. She was just as gorgeous as the last time Neela had fallen into her arms and kissed her. Standing so close, she saw tiny strands of dark hair at the nape of Jordan’s neck, the only indication, other than those curly lashes, that her thick mop of hair had ever been anything but snow white. Dressed entirely in black and waiting so patiently for her response, Jordan looked suddenly more serious, her motives more sincere. Even if Neela had wanted to, she couldn’t refuse her. So, she told Jordan about the proposed bill and the ramifications of its passage to the state, the women seeking assistance, and the people who worked in her department.

  Jordan scratched her head, looking oddly like a child trying to come up with the right answer. “I’m confused. You’re a liberal, pro-choice, stem-cell-research doctor in a Republican administration. How does that even happen?”

  “Are you serious right now? That’s the second time you’ve condescended to me about my politics and position. Are you Catholic or just ignorant?” She couldn’t believe she’d even tried to have a serious conversation with this woman. Jordan scuffed her boots into the grass. Apparently one of Neela’s accusations had hit too close to home.

  “Neither,” Jordan said. “And not all Catholics are bad.”

  “A woman has the right to choose her politics, what happens to her body, and the kind of health care she receives.”

  “What about her right to choose a competent doctor? I don’t object to abortions, just doctors who do them poorly and put people’s lives in jeopardy. And I seriously object to administrators who are supposed to take care of the less fortunate and are too busy taking kickbacks to be bothered. This administration seems intent on limiting choices of all kinds, especially for women and the underprivileged.”

  “Finally, something we agree on,” Neela said.

  “So what am I missing?”

  Neela stepped in front of Jordan and stared up at her, a rare flash of anger rising to the surface. “Obviously someone hasn’t done her homework. I worked for the previous governor, a wonderfully progressive woman who cared about the state and its people. I don’t support the conservative agenda of this administration.”

  “What about the regulations assuring a safe and healthy environment in child-care centers and homes? Do you support that?”

  “What?” The question seemed totally out of context, but the expression on Jordan’s face was pure anguish. “Of course I do. Where did that come from?”

  Jordan turned her back and stared out across the athletic field. After a few seconds she faced Neela again, her eyes clear and focused. “If you don’t agree with the governor, quit.”

  Neela wanted to discuss Jordan’s previous statement because it had obviously resurrected something genuine and passionate in her, but she had no doubt Jordan would dismiss it as inconsequential. “If only it were that simple.”

  “Of course it is. Why would you stay if his agenda goes against your beliefs? Do what you want to do.”

  “It must be nice to live in a world where all you have to think about is pleasing yourself. Some of us don’t have that luxury, Jordan.”

  Tears welled in Neela’s eyes and she blinked them back. She had to tough it out as long as possible. The insurance benefits alone, not to mention her salary, kept her and Bina from the poverty level. The demands of work, home, and her research were increasing, and the stress was almost unbearable. It was the worst possible time for this legislation. If she allowed herself even one second of weakness, she might never regain control. “I have to get back. This is no time for a stroll in the park with a…”

  “A what? Say it. I know what you must think of me.”

  “And what is that, Jordan? Since you’re so good at reading my mind.”

  “You think I’m a womanizing player who gets off on risk and adrenaline, superficial and unsettled, with absolutely no interest in commitment or meaningful relationships.”

  “That sounds more like your opinion. You have no idea what I think.” She walked away and headed toward the building. Neela wasn’t sure how she felt when it came to Jordan, but whatever it was, she couldn’t deal with it now. She needed to end this dangerous flirtation once and for all.

  Before she reached the door, she turned to tell Jordan so, but she was entirely too close, the air between them alive with energy. “And another thing. From your wild mood swings, I’d say you shouldn’t even be kissing anyone, much less considering a relationship.”

  Jordan looked as though she’d been slapped. “Is this the pot calling the kettle black? You don’t know anything about me.”

  “That’s the second thing we agree on. Though you don’t know anything about me either, you’ve already judged me and found me lacking in some way.”

  As she reached the back entrance, her cell rang and she pulled it from the pocket of her suit jacket. “Hello, Bina? Are you okay? I’ll be right there.” She hung up and turned to Jordan. “I need a police escort home. It’s an emergency.”

  “Is she injured? Do I need to have dispatch send patrol officers or an ambulance? They could be there in minutes.”

  “No, just get me home.” This day couldn’t possibly get any worse, given the governor’s bombshell and Bina’s urgent call. She desperately needed to be two places at once.

  *

  “And she didn’t tell you what was going on?” Bex held onto the dash as Jordan swerved in and out of traffic on the interstate.

  “Nope. She got a call from Bina—her partner, I guess. Then she said she needed an emergency escort home. But she said something that might be helpful in the case. You mentioned the possibility somebody wanted to push her out of her job. She’s not exactly a Lloyd supporter. At least it’s worth a closer look.”

&nb
sp; “I’ll put it back on the list of possibilities, if I live through this trip.”

  Driving fast was second nature for Jordan, but she wasn’t used to someone trying to keep up with her. She constantly glanced in the rearview mirror to make sure Neela was safe in their high-speed game of dodge cars. Their earlier conversation flashed through her mind like the vehicles racing by. Maybe she’d misunderstood Neela, made assumptions about who she was based on limited and faulty information. She didn’t support the restrictive and sweeping changes of Lloyd’s government, so that was to her credit. But she was a politician, and politicians were notorious for self-serving agendas and underhanded dealings. Why would she stay in a job she hated if she wasn’t getting something out of it?

  “Hey, sport, this is our exit.” Bex grabbed the dash again as Jordan signaled and swerved to make the turn. “Jesus. Did Neela make it?” She tried to look behind her, but Jordan’s rapid acceleration kept her pinned against the seat.

  “Yeah, she’s with us.” Jordan wished, not for the first time, that Neela had accepted her offer to ride with them. The trip could’ve been faster and less dangerous, but she’d flatly refused, saying she needed her car at home. As they slid up in front of her house, Jordan was about to find out what had precipitated Neela’s emergency trip home in the middle of the day.

  Jordan and Bex bolted out of the car and arrived at the door the same time as Neela. “Let us go in first,” Jordan said.

  “No! You can’t.” Neela held up her hands. “Wait here.”

  “Absolutely not. Our job is to protect you and your family. What if she’s in real trouble? We have to go in, Neela.”

  “Jordan, please. I can handle it. Really. Go back to your car. Thank you for getting me here so quickly. If I need you, I’ll let you know.” Neela looked at Bex, and Jordan could read the plea in her eyes. “I’ve got this.”

  “Fine, but if you don’t brief us in ten minutes, I’m coming in.”

  Without acknowledging her ultimatum, Neela unlocked the door and disappeared inside.