by Lea Coll
Every part of my body she touched tingled as I followed her to a table.
I couldn’t take my eyes off the outline of her ass in the tight skirt. She sat and opened her menu and I sat across from her.
After the waiter took our orders and our menus, I leaned back in my chair to study her.
She pulled a sheet of paper out of her bag. “We’re here to talk about the fundraiser. Let’s start with the parents’ night out. We watch kids in exchange for parents having an evening to go out to dinner, grocery shop, or whatever they need to do. It’s open to anyone who wants to attend—not just the dance students. We earned a decent amount of money from this last year since we had forty kids.”
“You’re saying that we will be in charge of forty kids?”
“Yes, and I can get a few of the older high school students to help. They’re great with little kids. We’ll supervise and make sure everything goes smoothly.”
That didn’t sound horrible.
Sadie smiled mischievously. “Be thankful it’s not a sleepover. That’s what Kristen wanted to do.”
Oh, fuck no. I couldn’t even imagine babysitting that many kids overnight. I was distracted by her playful grin—the one I’d seen when she was in the dance studio with the kids. I’d never seen her so relaxed in any other setting—not that I’d seen her outside of the studio, but she seemed more reserved when she wasn’t in front of the class.
The waitress placed our food in front of us. We ate in silence for a few minutes before Sadie added, “You can bring Rylan if you want. We usually provide a movie, snacks, drinks, and other activities.”
I sighed in relief. “A movie’s good. Keeps them occupied.”
“I hope so.” Then a mischievous smile crossed her face. “We might need to make it a double feature.”
“Why don’t you offer free dance classes as part of the night out? It could be an introduction for those who haven’t tried classes yet.”
Sadie was silent for a few seconds and when she spoke, her voice was quieter. “That’s a great idea. I was introduced to dance through free classes on Sunday evenings at the community center.”
A glimpse into her life. “It was something you enjoyed.”
A small soft smile transformed her face and when the smile reached her blue eyes, I was transfixed. “My mom couldn’t afford classes and I’d always loved music. I was always bouncing around the house to the radio. When my mom saw the flyer for free classes, she dropped me off every Sunday. I was addicted.”
“What did you like about it?”
“The release. I’d get this high dancing, and when I was done, it would last for hours. I loved it. I guess you could say it was an escape.”
I wanted to ask what it was an escape from, but we weren’t that close. “Why don’t you offer a free class? There might be kids who could use the same escape but their parents won’t or can’t pay for it.”
“I’m not sure Kristen would approve.”
“You could do it anywhere—the community center or the park when it’s nice out.”
“I’m pretty busy between my day job and dance classes as it is, but I’ll think about it.”
She’d mentioned her job and I knew she was in court before she’d met me. “You’re an attorney?”
“Yes.”
She didn’t expound on her answer as she took a sip of water.
“What kind of law do you practice?”
“I work for the public defender’s office.” She said it matter-of-factly. There was none of the excitement and enthusiasm I saw when she talked about teaching dance.
“Is that what you’ve always wanted to do?” I didn’t get the impression her work was as satisfying as teaching dance.
She shook her head. “That’s a good question. I went to law school because I wanted to help people. I worked for a private firm in Baltimore after law school. Then I came back here and worked at a similar firm for a while before taking this job.”
I desperately wanted to ask why she came back, but I sensed she wouldn’t tell me. She answered my questions but never offered more information unless it was related to dance. Either she wasn’t a talkative person, or she didn’t want to provide too many details about herself. “You’re young. You don’t have to have everything figured out yet.”
“I’m not that young. I’m twenty-eight.” Her shoulders tensed. “Maybe it’s all the responsibilities that make me feel ancient.” Her smile was sad.
“I know what you mean.” I was the only one of my co-workers and friends that had a six-year-old kid. I felt so young and inexperienced compared to the other kindergarten parents.
She pushed her plate out of the way, pulled out a legal pad and pen, and sent me an apologetic smile. “Enough personal stuff. We’re here to nail down this fundraiser business.”
I wanted to ask why she felt ancient and what responsibilities she had, but I didn’t feel comfortable pressing her when she clearly wanted to change the subject. “I don’t know how much help I can be with the fundraiser.”
“We’ll figure it out together.” She smiled and her blue eyes met mine. An electric charge shot through me. She immediately shifted in her seat and looked down at her paper. “Kristen said the dance-a-thon is our biggest fundraiser. She usually sends pledge papers home with the girls.”
At my questioning look, she added, “People pledge money for each minute the dancers are on the floor. We’ll need music and food, and we can hold the event in the studio.” She tapped the legal pad with the end of her pen. “Although the studio is so small, we’ll have to limit the attendees to families of the dancers.”
“What about the fire hall?”
She shook her head, dismissing it. “I’ve called around. Everywhere else costs too much money. It’s supposed to be a fundraiser.”
It wasn’t lost on me that if people in the town thought she was a liar and a manipulator, she wouldn’t get any favors on her own. “What if I could get it for free?”
She straightened in her chair. “Could you?”
I had no idea, but I wanted to be helpful. I wanted to ease some of her burden. “I’ll talk to Jack Perry and see if it’s possible.”
“That would be amazing.” She smiled brightly. “See, this is why it’s good to have help. You have connections.”
A feeling of warmth started in my chest and radiated to my arms, sending a tingle to my fingers at her words.
“I’ll print out the pledge paperwork and hand it out to the girls. You’ll handle the hall. I’ll need to get food. In the past, we’ve had it catered, but if we want to save some money—” She paused in her note-taking to tap the end of her pen on her lip, drawing my attention.
When she licked her lips, I tore my eyes away. “What about a potluck? That’s what we do for most of the department events.”
Her shoulders relaxed as she wrote something down. “That’s a great idea and less work for us. We could do an online sign-up form for food.”
“At least I don’t have to dance, right?” I’d never felt comfortable dancing the few times a woman asked at a wedding.
“Tanner!” She dropped her pen and covered her mouth with her hands.
“What?” My heart rate picked up, unsure what I’d said to excite her.
“What an amazing idea!” She slowly lowered her hands to the table.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You totally did. The police officers should dance. Can you get the firefighters too?”
“Um possibly, maybe. What?” When did I suggest that police officers should dance? Wasn’t I trying to get out of dancing?
“We could hold it at the hall and people can pay money to dance with you. It’s perfect, but we can’t just raise money for the dance studio. Is there another cause that you guys support that we could join forces with? It has to be something the whole town could get behind.”
I thought the cause should be abuse of alcohol and drugs, due to Bree and my job. “Mom’s Against Drunk Dr
ivers, Al-Anon, or something like that?”
“That could work. Both have a connection to law enforcement and the kids but they’re global organizations. Wouldn’t something local be better?” Her forehead wrinkled.
Looking at her phone, she said, “Oh my gosh, I need to get ready to teach.” She rose and placed her legal pad and pen into her briefcase. “Thank you so much for helping and for the amazing ideas. I’ll call you later.” She placed bills to cover her half of the bill on the table and ran out before I could protest.
My eyes were drawn to her ass again, outlined in that tight pencil skirt she wore. Holy fuck. This woman was going to be the death of me. I didn’t know which was worse—her skimpy dance outfits or her form-fitting power suits. I liked both.
Luke caught the door as Sadie walked out and approached the table. “Were you eating dinner with Sadie Cole?”
Remembering how he’d acted the other night at the bar, it probably was my best chance to ask about the assault. “Yes, I’m helping her at the dance studio.”
Luke flipped the chair and straddled it. “Why would you do that?”
Irritation crept up my spine. I looked around to make sure there weren’t many people close to us before I asked, “What’s your deal with Sadie?”
Luke sighed. “I didn’t want to mention it the other night at the bar, but she had an underage drinking party at her house when she was in high school. I was going to Washington College at the time but one of the girls involved was my cousin, Annabelle. She said she passed out and when she woke up, Sadie’s mother’s boyfriend, Dennis, was on top of her. She fought him off.”
My fingers curled into fists and my heart raced at the possibility that Sadie had been hurt too.
“Annabelle didn’t come forward until a few days later.”
“So, there was no physical evidence.”
“Exactly. No one denied they were drinking. The kids talked to officers, but they didn’t see anything. Annabelle was with Sadie in her bedroom. Everyone else was passed out in the living room.”
“What did Sadie say?”
Luke ran his fingers through his hair. “That was the problem—she refused to talk to officers. Maybe she was afraid she’d get into trouble for underage drinking, or she was protecting Dennis. My aunt was a mess and wanted to know what was going on with the investigation, so I kept in close contact with one of my friends who worked in the department at the time.”
“What happened with the case?”
“Dennis pled down to second-degree assault because it was Annabelle’s word against his. I think part of it was the state’s attorney not wanting to put Annabelle on the stand. Dennis was sentenced to a year. He served less time than that. It was seen as a loss for the department and for Annabelle.”
I shook my head in disgust. “That’s nothing. Was anyone else assaulted?”
Luke shot me a pointed look. “No one else came forward.”
The food I’d eaten with Sadie sat like a rock in my stomach. “What if—what if he messed with Sadie too, and she was too scared to come forward? Was that even considered?”
“I would think so, but I wasn’t privy to all the details of the investigation. My friend in the department said she was viewed as failing to cooperate with a police investigation but wasn’t charged because she was a minor.”
“Maybe that was the problem all along. If the police department was frustrated with her and people thought she was covering it up or protecting Dennis, I could see how that would make it impossible for her to come forward.”
Luke was quiet for a few seconds, as if considering my words. “The case was a big deal around here because Annabelle was an actress. She did some local modeling and commercials before my aunt moved her to Los Angeles where she was offered a part in a kids’ show. She did that for a few years before it was cancelled. She had a few offers for other parts, but she wanted to return home for her final year of high school. She wanted to be a cheerleader, go to the homecoming dance, prom, and attend graduation like a normal kid. Everyone thought it was great she’d want to return home when she could have continued her acting career. She’d put our little town on the map and hadn’t forgotten us when she was famous. Then the assault happened.
Dennis didn’t have that same reputation. That dichotomy created a firestorm in the media and the public. People wanted him punished for what he did. Annabelle was never the same after the assault. The fact is that Dennis got a slap on the wrist and Annabelle overdosed shortly after he was released. If Sadie had nothing to hide, why wouldn’t she talk?”
“Annabelle died?” My heart sunk. Did Sadie blame herself?
“My aunt claims she never recovered from the assault and the investigation that followed. The assault was in the entertainment news and Annabelle’s agent didn’t want her to return to L.A. until the publicity died down. Annabelle didn’t think she’d be able to get any more acting parts. She was depressed and took a bottle full of pills to end her life.”
“Was Annabelle’s overdose Sadie’s fault or was it, Dennis Moore’s fault—the asshole who assaulted her?” I felt the rage slowly building in my too-tight chest.
Luke swallowed hard. “Look, Annabelle was my cousin. Maybe I’m a little too close to this one and I can’t see the other side, but to me—whether you know something or not, you come forward. You trust the police officers to do their job.”
Did Sadie trust the police officers to do their job? I didn’t know what her home life was like, but to have her mother dating a man who’d sexually assault her daughter’s friends would indicate possible neglect or at the very least poor parental judgment.
“Maybe you should consider the other side before you throw the blame on Sadie. You don’t know the whole situation. You weren’t even part of the investigation.”
I didn’t wait for his response. I stood, threw some bills on the table, and walked out, bypassing my cruiser to get some air to calm down. What a fucked-up situation. Scared girls and an adult who took advantage of a situation. He probably banked on the fact that the girls were under the influence and wouldn’t remember anything if they woke up.
I couldn’t shake Luke’s words: If Sadie had nothing to hide, why wouldn’t she talk? Was she hiding something? Was she threatened? Or was she protecting Dennis? I couldn’t see her protecting him, but I didn’t really know her at all, and maybe she was not as innocent as she seemed.
Sadie
The cuteness factor of kids dancing with police officers and firefighters had overridden my common sense. During my dance class Monday, the doubts slowly crept in. If we involved the police department in the fundraiser, my name would be mentioned and someone would tell Tanner what happened. I wanted to tell Tanner it was a bad idea, but I hadn’t had a chance to chat with him since our dinner meeting. He’d been rushed coming to class and leaving afterward. I could have called or texted him, but I didn’t know what excuse to give him that wouldn’t arouse suspicion.
When I felt out of control, going to the Al-Anon meetings helped. I’d only started attending recently but each time I felt re-charged and focused. Before I attended, I had allowed my mom’s chaos to rule my life. Whenever I felt myself spiraling, I made time to attend a meeting. At the same time, I felt guilty because attending a meeting meant a longer day—I wouldn’t be able to check on my mother after dance.
I pulled on sweats and a hoodie over my dance outfit, closed the studio, and drove to the next town over to the meeting there. Meetings were supposed to be anonymous, but I didn’t want to run into anyone I knew.
As I approached the church, there was a sign outside indicating the meeting was in the basement. I took the steps on the side of the building and pulled my bun out so my hair would cover my face.
I ignored the table covered in sweets and coffee and sat in one of the metal folding chairs that were arranged in a half-circle. I pulled out my phone to scroll mindlessly through social media so no one would approach me. I wasn’t here to make connections with any
one.
“Let’s get started. I’m Brandon if you haven’t been here before. We’re here to find strength and hope for those family members and friends of people struggling with alcohol addiction. I’ll start with the twelve steps of Alcoholics Anonymous.”
He went through the litany of steps in a steady voice I found comforting. I listened carefully and searched for anything that could help me. I came to these meetings to hear stories similar to mine. To hear pain similar to mine. I was like an addict waiting for my next fix of you’re not alone.
The squeak of the basement door opening caught my attention. A man in a police uniform and a department-issued jacket walked steadily over to our circle sitting in the remaining spare seat—sending a shiver down my spine. It was Tanner. What was he doing here?
He hadn’t noticed me yet, so I shifted in my chair and looked down at my hands, unable to focus on what Brandon was saying anymore. I was nervous Tanner would see me—that he’d judge me because of my mother’s condition.
All I could think was Tanner was here. Why? Who did he know who was an addict? His parents, his siblings, a friend? Or was he here in his official capacity as an officer? Could I leave without him noticing me?
A woman next to me volunteered to get up and speak and I shifted more in my chair, so I was facing slightly away from Tanner, and I let my hair fall over the side of my face.
When she was done speaking, Brandon asked if anyone else wanted to speak. I’d been working myself up to share but wouldn’t with Tanner here.
I didn’t hear a word of the remainder of the meeting. I’d need to come back next week to get the fix I so desperately needed. Or I’d have to find a different meeting to avoid him. As people got up, chatting, putting on their coats, and grabbing food and coffee, I slung my bag over my shoulder and tried to skirt the group to get to the door. I was almost free when I heard someone say my name.
“Sadie?”
I drew up short, my breath coming in short pants as I slowly turned. He’d seen me.
“Yeah?” I took deep breaths to appear calm. What could I tell him about why I was here? I certainly couldn’t tell him the truth. I didn’t know him well enough for that.