by E. M. Shea
The cracks began to appear a few months into the relationship. At first, he wrote them off as the typical growing pains of truly getting to know someone—warts and all. After all, no one was perfect—himself included. But as the “little things” that nagged at him grew into bigger things, he started questioning if they had enough in common to make a go of it through the long haul. Kendra’s preoccupation with money and status had always made him a bit uncomfortable, but as time went on, it started to grate on him more and more. It wasn’t that he had anything against wanting the nicer things in life. The new condo that they had been leasing, fully stocked with all the interconnected bells and whistles of a modern “smart building” environment, was as much his choice of residence as hers. Could he be just as happy—perhaps even more so—in a rustic log cabin tucked away in the woods? Absolutely. But it was clear that Kendra had not even the slightest country bone in her body, and so he was okay with compromising on a mutually suitable living situation. When she came home one day driving a brand-new BMW—fully loaded, of course—he congratulated her on her latest acquisition, knowing that the money was starting to roll in fast and easy as a stockbroker enjoying a remarkably successful streak.
But that feeling of unease—the messages firing from his gut that neither his head nor heart wanted to hear—was that Kendra’s foray into superficiality was not a temporary byproduct of her job. It was who she was at the core. And so he had started to question their future together. Not directly, but silently in his head. Could he see himself growing old with her? Having a family together? Working towards the same goals in life? But then, well, he discovered Kendra faceplanted in her boss’s crotch … and he had the answer to those questions, plus some he had been too in denial about to even ask.
And now, all he could do was move forward. Which meant not dwelling on the past, but instead learning from it. Lesson number one? Don’t get involved with someone whose priorities were screwed up, regardless of how physically attractive they were. It was all well and good to be career driven and to appreciate the comforts in life, but there needed to be some real substance there. Something that made them tick besides money and prestige. Speaking of which … Nick looked at his watch and then turned back to the guys.
“Well, as much as I’m enjoying being the butt of …” he stopped mid-sentence as his figurative butt was replaced with an all too literal one. And still in full twerk mode, no less.
“All right, Caruso, I think I’ve seen enough of your sorry sac for a day. Put your pants back on, or I’ll have you arrested.”
Hands still gripping his thighs, the overly flexible young officer turned his head back without missing a beat. “For what?”
“I don’t know … how about illegal brandishing of a scrotum?”
As the room broke out in howls once again, Nick shook his head in silent laughter and headed out the door on his way to the Greater Boston Boys Club.
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“You’re just in time for a game of pickup,” said Phil Maguire, the club’s director, as Nick popped his head into Phil’s office. “The boys are already out in the back court warming up.”
“Great. I could use a good workout,” Nick replied, failing to mention that he had just spent two hours pushing his body to the limit through a muscle-crunching combination of stair climbing, cycling and free weights. But exercise was always his go-to antidote for stress, and after the day he had just had, he needed all the physical relief he could get.
Phil shot him a thumb’s up. “I’m just finishing some paperwork here and will meet you out back.”
In his mid-50s, Phil was a walking embodiment of the across-the-board benefits gained from a healthy approach to life. Not only did he join in the daily round of multiple physical activities offered at the center, but he loved being able to make a difference in the lives of the young boys and teens that considered the center their second home. Or in some cases, their first. And it showed. Not only did Phil look barely a year past 30, but he had twice the energy of plenty of guys half his age. And while he never failed to remind Nick what an important role model he was for the kids, little did he know that he served in the same capacity for Nick.
Out in the post-dusk, spotlight-lit courtyard several minutes later, Nick’s reflexes were immediately put to the test as an energetic teen tossed a basketball his way.
“Good catch,” the fast-moving boy said as he grabbed another ball out of a bin and began dribbling it across the concrete court. At 15 years old, Colin was already a regular at the center when Nick had started volunteering three years ago. His aspiration of following in Nick’s law-enforcement footsteps created the opportunity for a close mentorship that meant the world to Nick, and the two had grown especially close. Like most of the boys at the center, Colin had been dealt a lousy hand at the start of his life. His father had never really been in the picture, and his young mother had been in and out of jail, caught up in the grips of drug addiction and all the reckless behavior that often went with it. Fortunately for Colin, his grandmother had stepped in and assumed the role of primary caretaker. A strong, no-nonsense woman with a quick wit, Eleanor had met Nick several times over the years and always made it clear that she was grateful for the guidance he was providing her grandson. And he was equally grateful for the opportunity to help steer Colin in a positive direction.
“Check it out, Sarge!” Colin yelled as he expertly dribbled the ball up to the basket, dodging several opposing players and culminating in the swoosh of a slam dunk.
“Don’t get too good at that,” Nick called back. “You’ll end up going pro and we’ll miss out having you on the police force instead.”
“I already know what uniform I want to wear.” Colin dribbled the ball up to him, made a quick throw, and then received a toss back. “And it has a badge on it.”
Nick grinned, satisfied with his answer. He often wondered if his own future children would share his career path, though he would wholeheartedly support whatever direction they chose. Did that include the role of defense attorney? He grudgingly sighed, knowing the answer was “yes”, but still hoping he would never find himself in that situation, especially after the court shenanigans of earlier in the day. And since we’re on that subject …. Nick’s thoughts drifted to Dani, prompting him to shake his head vigorously as though he could physically dislodge the images of her. Nope. They were still there. Let’s try this again. Shake, shake—
“Aaarrrggghhh!” Nick clutched his stomach and lurched forward as a basketball caught him square in the groin.
“Oh, geez, sorry about that, Sarge!” exclaimed 12-year-old Kip from halfway down the court as he slapped his hand over his mouth. “I thought you were looking!”
Still hunched over as he tried to breathe, Nick held up an index finger to signal a delayed response. If he had been anywhere but at the club, he’d be holding up a decidedly different finger instead, but he knew the crushing throw hadn’t deliberately been aimed at his gonads. Or so he hoped. Hoo! Hoo! Just ride it out, man.
Finally, he righted himself. “No worries,” he croaked. In fact, he probably had appeared to be looking in Kip’s direction just prior to the throw, but not actually seeing him. To say that his normally steadfast attention was scattered would be an understatement, and he didn’t have to search hard to determine what—or who—was to blame. His recollection of the morning’s court proceedings had morphed into thoughts of Dani, and well, from there it was all downhill … in an I-don’t-want-to-think-about-her-but-can’t-help-it kind of way.
Enough already. He motioned to Colin to toss him the ball. Time to get moving again, to rely on some lightning-fast footwork to outmaneuver the disturbing thoughts in his head. As he grabbed hold of the ball and began working his way up to the hoop, one final Dani-related thought crossed his mind before he barred her from his brain for good. Or at least for the next half hour.
I bet she’s having a grand ole time gloating about her win in court today.
◆◆◆
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Dani hauled her overstuffed workbag and bulging briefcase through the front door of her house and dropped them to the floor with a resounding thud. Closing the door behind her, she tossed the keys on the nearby coffee table and nearly collapsed onto the couch. Within seconds, Gypsy, her 10-year-old calico cat, was perched in her lap and purring contently.
“You’re not going to believe the kind of day I had,” she said wearily as she stroked Gypsy’s soft fur.
Gypsy looked up at her as though she understood, then thrusted her face forward and began to cough.
“Oh no you don’t …”
Splat. A watery hairball landed on Dani’s knee. She stared at it for several moments, trying to muster the energy to get up and clean it off. If ever she needed confirmation that Gypsy could read her mind, it was oozing right there in a grotesque, matted heap. Yup, that about sums up my day. She sighed as she gently placed Gypsy on the floor, then headed to the kitchen for a wet cloth and some paper towels. She hated feeling as worn out as she did now and wondered how much of it was due to physical exertion versus mental stress. She had been up since 5:30 a.m., ran three miles before work and had been going nonstop since setting foot in the office—and then, of course, the courtroom. So she hadn’t exactly been a slouch. Still, she was used to whizzing through the day on overdrive in order to keep up with her uber-busy schedule as an in-demand attorney, and it didn’t typically leave her feeling as she did now. Which was about as energized as a sloth at naptime.
No—something else was at work here, and as her thoughts flashed back to her courtroom encounter with Nick, she could no longer deny the culprit. Quite simply, she was tired of having to justify her career choice. Defend her role of defending others … and yes, the irony in that was not lost on her. As Nick’s harsh assessment of her actions as an attorney—of all attorneys, it would seem—replayed in her head, she rubbed her temples in search of relief. But none came.
Dani had long ago stopped caring about what people thought of her chosen profession. Or had she? Because right now she was feeling misjudged and misunderstood … and it irked her big-time. The fact was, there were always going to be people who were all too eager to jump to conclusions once they learned she was a defense attorney. She was an ambulance chaser. Got killers off the hook. Was purely in it for the money. An example of all that was wrong with the legal system. All of which were far from the truth. She believed in the rule of law, that everyone was innocent until proven guilty.
“That’s how it works in this country. Doesn’t he get that? That’s how it should work.”
Gypsy padded into the kitchen and cocked her head sideways as she looked at Dani.
“Sorry, sweetie. Just talking out loud to myself. Again. Hold on a sec and I’ll get you some food.”
Resting her elbows on the kitchen counter as she looked out the window into her backyard, Dani flashed back to some of the high points of her still-unfolding career. Graduating at the top of her class from Yale Law School. Landing a highly coveted position as a newly minted defense attorney at Gallagher & Associates, a leading Boston law firm. Acing her very first court case that had been deemed a slam dunk for the prosecution, followed by a string of equally impressive wins for dozens of clients. But let’s not forget the low points, she reminded herself. At the top of the list? Successfully representing a young mother accused of killing her child because she genuinely believed in the woman’s innocence, only to learn a year and a half later that history had repeated itself when a second child was found dead under questionable circumstances. This time, she refused to act as the woman’s defense attorney. No problem, her superiors at Gallagher & Associates had replied—and don’t let the door hit you on the way out. In a way, she couldn’t blame them for letting her go. After all, she had been hired to take on those very cases she now eschewed. Not willing to make the same mistake twice, she had made her preferences clear from her very first interview with Schulman, Heinz & Associates. When it came to representing clients accused of deadly crimes, she would choose whether to take on the case depending on its individual merits. Since their high-paying clientele were typically involved in lower-level but still serious offenses—think insider trading, illicit drug use and getting caught with their pants down at a high-end brothel—there was more than enough work to keep her busy. And fulfilled? Well, that was another story for another day.
Gypsy walked over and rubbed her face against Dani’s leg, a welcome interruption to her spiraling thoughts. “I know,” she acknowledged as she scratched Gypsy behind the ears. “You need to eat, and I need to stop obsessing about things I have no control over. Who cares what one cop with a bad attitude thinks about what I do for a living? Besides, it’s not like I’ll ever run into him again.” She’d make sure of that by minding the speed limit, difficult though it sometimes could be. Officer Grumpy didn’t seem like the type to cut a driver some slack for being a mere 1 or 2 mph over the limit, so she would really have to be diligent.
Hmph. I can do that.
She peered down at Gypsy. “Right?”
Gypsy looked back at her, a good luck with that smile on her feline lips. Because, yes, cats did smile. And apparently much more so than certain police officers.
Chapter Four
It was an exceptionally bright morning as Dani sailed down Granite Highway on her way to work, her gas-pedal foot minding the speed limit as she fiddled with the radio scan button. It had been just over a week since her introduction to Nick by way of speeding ticket, and she was determined to avoid a follow-up encounter. Her phone was now connected via Bluetooth for hands-free operation, plus she was running a traffic app that theoretically would notify her of any police presence. So what could possibly go wrong? As if to answer that question in real time, a deer suddenly darted into the road directly in front of her. She slammed on the brakes and swerved just in time to avoid hitting the doe, skidding into a speed limit sign instead.
“Oh, shit!” she murmured, slightly dazed from the metal-crunching impact. That it was the same sign she had pretended not to see during her run-in with Nick only added to her disbelief that the start of a seemingly great day could deteriorate so fast.
A car pulled up beside her. “Are you okay?” a silver-haired woman asked as she rolled down the window.
Her husband leaned forward from the driver’s seat to get a better view. “Looks like your radiator is busted,” he said as steam began to rise from the vehicle hood.
The woman pulled out her cellphone. “I’ll call nine-one-one.”
“You don’t have to do that!” Dani exclaimed nervously, but the woman was already relaying their location to the dispatcher. “Someone’s on the way,” she said a bit too cheerfully several moments later.
“Thanks.” Dani could only hope that the “someone” was anyone but Nick. After reassuring the couple that she was fine, they drove off, leaving her to contemplate her next move. Gingerly, she stepped out of her SUV to survey the damage. She had only recently entered into a lease agreement for the brand-new vehicle, its all-wheel drive primed and ready for the upcoming New England winter, and now the entire front end was pushed in like an accordion.
It’s okay. It was just an inanimate object. A piece of metal. An expensive piece of metal, but still an object, nonetheless. The important thing was that she avoided hitting the deer, and she was unharmed as well. See? It was a win-win. Already she felt relieved, her inner pep talk allowing her to breathe easier. The sound of tires rolling up behind her took the wind out of her artificially pumped-up sails. Don’t worry, it’s not that jerk. Slowly, she turned around.
Except that it was. Even through the glare on the police SUV windshield, she could see the outline of a square jaw and the rounded top of broad shoulders—normally a sight that would induce a lip-smacking smile, but in this case, it was more like the chattering of teeth.
After speaking on the police radio for several moments, Nick slowly exited his vehicle. Damn, he looks delicious, Dani thought against he
r own wishes. But so did double-layer cheesecake, frozen mud slides and a whole lot of other things that ultimately caused more harm than good.
“Well, well,” he said as he approached with a bit of natural swagger in his step. “We meet again.”
Your turn. Say something. “Um … hi.”
“Are you injured in any way?”
“No, I’m okay.”
Nick made his way over to the front of the car and surveyed the damage. He pulled the bent sign up and off the hood as the radiator continued to hiss, then turned to Dani. “Just so you know, destroying this sign is not going to change the fact that the speed limit is fifty miles an hour.”
“I know that. A deer ran in front of me, and I swerved to avoid it. But I wasn’t speeding—I swear.”
“You did see the deer-crossing sign about five-hundred feet back.”
“Is that a question or a statement?” Dani immediately winced, recalling how this inquiry didn’t go so well the last time.
He stared at her as if to say, you’re going with that again? “You’re lucky that a car wasn’t coming in the other direction. If it was, you might have avoided hitting the deer, but crashed into the car instead. That’s why we advise people not to swerve to avoid hitting an animal.”
“Are you serious? You’re saying I should have hit Bambi?”
“I’m just telling you the official department recommendation for future reference.”
“Well, I don’t purposely hit animals.” Her cheeks reddened with defiance. “In fact, I’ve been known to brake for toads.” She was tempted to add that she had even dated a few, but it was probably more information than the situation warranted.
The slightest grin formed on Nick’s lips, but he seemed determined to stick to the facts. “Do you have a road service plan, or do you need me to call a tow?”
