Bad Girl

by T. E. Woods

  “It is.” Miranda made no effort to hide the surprise in her voice.

  The bishop’s smile was gentle. “How many times do I have to tell you I make it my business to know what’s happening in the lives of every member of my flock? Each one is special to me. And you and Daniel are of particular interest.”

  “We are?” Miranda’s brow furrowed.

  “He’s your first assignment,” the bishop answered. “The first new member of our flock you’re mentoring completely on your own. Each One Teach One is the basis of all we are.”

  “Miranda’s grown beyond what I ever could have imagined,” Alden gushed. “Talk about the student surpassing the teacher! Look at what she’s built for us.”

  The bishop’s tone turned playful. “I’ve seen the steady increase in your donations over the years, my friend. Don’t think for a moment I assumed you suddenly got smarter. I’ve always known it was Miranda who took ImEx from where it was to where it is.”

  “Alden taught me everything about business,” Miranda pointed out. “And you, Bishop, taught me what God had in store for me. What He hoped for me. After all this time, I still shudder to think what my life would have been if I hadn’t met the two of you.”

  “Now you have become the teacher. How’s Daniel doing?”

  Miranda’s right hand fluttered almost imperceptibly. “We’ve been working together three months.”

  “I’m aware,” the bishop said. “I assigned him to you.”

  Miranda swallowed hard. “He comes from an unusual background.”

  “Barely graduated high school, no luck at the community college in his hometown, enlisted in the army at the insistence of his alcoholic father, and given a general discharge seven months later. Drifting from one fast-food job to another, always one step ahead of being fired. Do I have it right?” He paused, as though reminding her he would always know everything. “I’ll ask again. How’s he doing?”

  Miranda searched for the right words. “Daniel has many good qualities. He’s witty. People seem to…”

  “He’s late,” the bishop interrupted. “Wasn’t your meeting with him to begin a half hour ago? Yet here you are, shooting the breeze with Alden.”

  “I’m sure there’s an explanation for his tardiness,” Miranda said.

  “The job you secured for him is at the copy store. Do I have that right?”

  “Yes. Wolverine Copy Center. ImEx does considerable business with them. I called in a favor and they hired Daniel.”

  “I’m aware of that, too. Daniel was started on counter service. After he commented on a customer’s weight, he was reassigned to the back room.”

  “Yes.” The words of an old hymn came to her. His eyes are on the sparrow.

  “And his manager…I believe his name is Salterman.”

  “Yes,” Miranda said. “Ernie Salterman.”

  Fulcraft nodded. “Salterman’s concerned about Daniel’s work ethic. In particular, his apparent inability to get to work on time. He’s unreliable, I’m told. Unresponsive to feedback from his superiors. And I understand Salterman was so disconcerted by Daniel’s cavalier attitude toward his responsibilities that he came to you to discuss it. In any other circumstance he would have fired Daniel. But he didn’t want to risk alienating you or putting the ImEx account in jeopardy.”

  And I know He watches me.

  Before Miranda could respond, Aiysha, her executive assistant, appeared at her door.

  “Miranda, Daniel Lorruci’s here for his nine o’clock. Do you still want to see him?”

  Miranda glanced to the bishop for direction.

  “By all means,” Fulcraft boomed. “Send the man in.”

  Less than a minute later Aiysha escorted a stocky young man wearing jeans and a University of Michigan sweatshirt to Miranda’s door.

  “Mornin’, Miranda.” Daniel let out a low whistle as he glanced around the office. “These your new digs? Man, they ain’t nothin’ but hot!” He smiled when he saw the bishop. “Hey! Good to see you, man! Lookin’ sharp.” Daniel nodded to Alden. “You, too. We havin’ a party, or what?”

  “Daniel, you’re fired.” Bishop Fulcraft crossed one leg over the other.

  Daniel blinked. “What now?”

  “Pack up your things at the dormitory,” Fulcraft continued. “You are no longer welcome in any church facility.”

  The look on the young man’s face shifted into defiance. “I don’t work for you. You can’t fire me.”

  “If you need to hear it straight from Ernie Salterman’s mouth, I can make that happen.” Fulcraft’s tone was stripped of any emotion. “My suggestion would be to save yourself the humiliation. If your room in the church dormitory isn’t cleared out by four o’clock this afternoon, your possessions will be boxed and left on the curb. The entry code’s already been changed. You’ll need to buzz the front desk. They’ll provide you an escort to your former room.”

  “This ain’t right.” Daniel looked to Miranda. “You’re supposed to be teachin’ me. That’s the deal. Showin’ me how God’s got all the goodies waitin’ for me. Teachin’ me the secret.”

  “Don’t look at her when I’m speaking to you,” Fulcraft demanded. “She’s tried. You failed. You’ve had far too many opportunities and squandered them all. You’re done.”

  “I’m sorry, man. I’m gonna do better with that. I swear I will.” The rebellion drained from Daniel’s attitude.

  Fulcraft said nothing. Miranda looked to Alden for direction but his eyes were focused on the floor.

  “C’mon, man. I can do this.” Daniel shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “You gotta give me another chance…”

  “Four o’clock, Daniel.” Fulcraft kept his eyes on Miranda as he spoke. “You’ve wasted this opportunity. There are others who won’t be as foolish.”

  “This is wrong!” Desperation quivered in the young man’s voice. “I got no place to go. You gotta help me. You’re a church! You gotta help!”

  “Miranda,” Fulcraft said, “call security. There’s no need to tolerate this man’s behavior.”

  “Please!” Daniel begged. “I got nothin’. I’ll starve.”

  Fulcraft turned to him. His voice was calm, but his eyes were ice. “We offered you the glories of heaven. The abundance of this earth. And you couldn’t even show up on time.” He turned to Miranda. “Do you call security or do I call the police?”

  Daniel stuttered a step back at the threat. He threw a pleading glance to Miranda.

  She moved her hand to the phone console on her desk.

  “Fuck you, man!” Daniel yelled. “Fuck you all! I don’t need this fucking bullshit!” He slammed out of the office.

  Fulcraft waited a few moments to speak. Miranda used the time to steady her breathing.

  “The kingdom of God defies description.” The bishop’s tone projected an iron will wrapped in silk cloth. “And He gives the bounties of that kingdom to those smart enough to take it. Do you know the most precious of God’s bounties, Miranda?”

  She couldn’t find her voice.

  “It’s time,” Fulcraft answered when she failed to do so. “We each have only so much time. It’s a commodity more precious than gold and as dear as the love of the Creator. He bids us to use time wisely. We use our time to teach. But there are those who will not hear. Will not learn. They disappoint us. And we must not waste time. Not ours. Not theirs. Not God’s. If someone demonstrates an unwillingness to take up the path to glory we stand ready to offer them, cast them out. There’s no room for disappointment on the road to the riches God has in store for us. To indulge disappointing behavior is to teach that it is acceptable. That’s not a lesson we want God’s people to learn. Do you understand?”

  Her tongue seemed glued to the roof of her desert-dry mouth.

  “Do you understand me, Miranda
?” he pressed.

  She nodded. Once.

  “And will you disappoint us?”

  Miranda pried her tongue free and gathered enough breath to speak.

  “Never.”

  Chapter 17

  Sydney was too tired to continue the phone conversation. “I’ve got to go.”

  “Nap time?” Ronnie asked.

  She smiled at her friend’s clairvoyance. “It’s New Year’s Eve. I’m going to have two restaurants filled with celebrating guests. I have to be on my toes when that clock strikes midnight.”

  “Have fun. You know where I’ll be.”

  She did. Ronnie’s year-end tradition was to take a long bubble bath, slip into flannel pajamas, and binge-watch movies while drinking cocoa and eating fudge cookies. She’d be asleep by ten.

  “Dinner tomorrow?” The two of them had shared New Year’s dinner every year since they were seven. Even the two years Sydney spent traveling hadn’t been missed. Once, Ronnie met up with her in Prague. The other, Sydney flew sixteen hours straight to meet her friend and share a burger at the Madison airport before getting back on a plane to begin her journey to Brazil.

  “You got it,” Ronnie answered. “My year to pick. I say ribs and fries at Fat Jacks.”

  “Six o’clock?”

  “I’ll be the one wearing a bib and a smile.” She paused. “And, Sydney, it wouldn’t kill you to speak to Clay, you know. Wish him a Happy New Year.”

  Sydney hadn’t spoken to him since they’d argued about Miranda’s red panties. She hated how dug-in their silence felt. “We’re not talking about that, remember?”

  “Put it in your things I hate about Ronnie journal. It’s been days, Syd. Call the man.”

  She reminded her friend about the futility of nagging, wished her a peaceful night, and hung up. Then she set her alarm for three p.m., closed the black-out drapes in her room, and nestled under her covers. She drifted off to sleep wondering what the new year would hold for her and Clay.

  * * *

  —

  Sydney entered the hallway connecting Hush Money to the Ten-Ten just past eleven-thirty. She was eager to leave the puffed-up, postured reverie of the gowned and tuxedoed crowd for what she hoped would be a genuinely boisterous celebration with Ten-Ten’s regulars. She wasn’t disappointed. At least a hundred people, most wearing party hats, filled the space. The jukebox played Springsteen at a volume made even louder when every voice in the place joined in chanting what tramps like us were born to do. Roscoe and his second-in-command behind the bar were mixing drinks, tapping beers, and singing along with the crowd. She made her way to the corner of the bar and leaned in so the server could hear her.

  “You guys need reinforcements?”

  Jenna had been with Ten-Ten since it opened. “We’re good, Syd. Roscoe’s got his best working tonight. I include myself in that. Customers are happy. Tips are piling up. It’s all gravy.”

  Sydney thanked her and made her way deeper into the room, greeting patrons and enjoying the anticipation they all seemed to be experiencing. A hand tapped her shoulder. She turned to find Horst beaming at her.

  “Happy New Year, Kitz!” The old cop hoisted his mug in salutation, then nodded toward a corner. Sydney followed his gaze and saw her mother dancing with joyful abandon beside two other women. “What is it you kids say? Party like it’s 1999? Nancy’s taking that to heart tonight.”

  She couldn’t help but grin at the obvious delight on her mother’s face. “You should join her! When’s the last time you cut a rug?”

  Horst shook his head. “These feet were designed for chasing down bad guys, kiddo. You’d need an ER substation to take care of all the bruised toes if I decided to get my boogie on.”

  “I’m ready to risk it anytime.” Sydney hugged him, happy to be encircled in the arms of a man who would always love her.

  “Happy New Year, Sydney.” The deep voice came from behind. She turned to see Rick Sheffield. He was wearing a rough-knit ivory sweater and jeans. The stubble on his chin suggested he hadn’t shaved in a couple of days and his dark hair looked like he’d done nothing to smooth it after coming in from the winter wind.

  “Rick!” She fought a surprising impulse to move from Horst’s arms to his. “I understand congratulations are in order. Detective! I didn’t even know you had an interest in going that route.”

  His dark eyes held hers. He leaned in close enough for her to breathe the scent of him. “I’d be happy to let you in on all my secret interests should you ever take the fancy.”

  His breath, warm on her cheek, sent electric waves down her spine.

  “You have your drink, I see.” She cringed at the lameness of her remark. “I mean, it looks like you have a beer.”

  Stop! Stop talking! Shut up! You sound like an insecure high-schooler running into the quarterback outside homeroom.

  “Rick here’s got good cause to celebrate,” Horst told her. “Getting his shield is a helluva way to start a new year.”

  “What’s Jocko have to say about you leaving the K-9 force?” Sydney asked.

  “He’s a good dog.” Sydney liked the way Rick’s voice rumbled. Like he didn’t care to raise it to combat the noise in the room and was confident anyone interested in what he had to say would find a way to hear it. “He was three months away from retirement when I got the word.”

  “He’ll head out to pasture early, then?” she asked.

  Rick looked past her and waved a server their way. “Jocko has already taken up permanent couch patrol. Lazy old geezer figures if there’s no one to chase or nothing to sniff out, he needn’t bother getting up. Eat and sleep. Dog park twice a week. That’s his thing now.”

  Jenna approached them. “You rang?”

  Rick nodded to Sydney. “This beautiful lady is without a glass in her hand. It’ll be midnight soon.” He turned his attention back to Sydney. “Pinot grigio, right?”

  Sydney nodded, speechless. The handsome quarterback remembered the skinny sophomore’s drink.

  A smile tugged at one side of his lips. “It’s got to be all of seven degrees outside. You still want a chilled glass of wine?”

  “What can I say? I like what I like.”

  Rick held her gaze for two more heartbeats before turning back to Jenna. “Who are we to dissuade her?”

  “Coming right up.” Jenna turned to wend her way back to the bar.

  Nancy’s voice sang out over the crowd, calling to Horst. The three of them turned to see Sydney’s mother still dancing while pointing to one of the women bopping alongside her. Without missing a beat, Nancy held up her left hand, pointed to its ring finger, and shook her head no. Then she waved Horst over.

  “Uh-oh,” Sydney said. “She’s at it again.”

  Horst shook his head at Nancy, refusing her summons. “Your mother’s been trying to marry me off since the first day your father brought me home for dinner.”

  “Happy wants happy. Mom and Dad were floating on their own cloud. She wants to see you there, too.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Your mother’s criteria are a little lacking.”

  Sydney laughed. “That woman isn’t married. Mom doesn’t need to know anything else.”

  Nancy called his name again.

  “You better get over there. She isn’t going to stop.”

  “You know she won’t.” Horst kissed her cheek and nodded his leave to Rick. “In case I don’t make it back alive, here’s wishing a good New Year to you both.”

  Jenna arrived to fill the space Horst left. She handed a chilled glass of white wine to Sydney.

  “That goes on my tab,” Rick told her.

  “You don’t need to do that,” Sydney protested.

  Rick handed Jenna a ten dollar tip. “On my tab. Don’t let your boss lady tell you any different, got it?”

&n
bsp; Jenna smiled at Sydney. “I got it. And thanks.”

  When she left, Rick raised his beer. Sydney matched his move, their glasses clinking in the tight space that separated them.

  “Happy New Year,” they said in unison before each took a sip.

  “Good?” he asked.

  Sydney knew Jenna knew which vintage she preferred. “Perfect.”

  He reached out and rested his fingertip against her frosted wineglass. It lingered there for a moment while he kept his eyes on hers. Then, never dropping his gaze, he traced an R in the glass’s condensation. Her breath was abruptly shallow and rapid as a heat not brought on by the first sip of alcohol raced through her body.

  “Are you marking me?” she asked.

  A sensual fire lit his eyes as that one-sided tug pulled at his lips again. “Just a reminder of who you shared a drink with when the clock struck midnight.”

  As if on cue, the music over the jukebox’s speakers came to an instant halt, its sound replaced by a room filled with revelers counting down.

  “Ten…nine…eight…”

  Rick didn’t join in. Instead, he held Sydney’s gaze as though she was all he wanted to see.

  “Seven…six…five…four…”

  She felt the noisy room fade away. Her body was lighter, in danger of drifting away.

  “Three…two…”

  Rick set his glass on the table next to where they stood. He took her wine and set it beside his.

  “One! Happy New Year!”

  Sydney was vaguely aware of the strains of “Auld Lang Syne” blaring from the wall-mounted speakers. Rick’s right arm slipped around her waist. The look in his eyes sent her a wordless request. She answered by moving a half step closer and felt the heat of his body as his left arm pulled her into his embrace.

  She surrendered to his kiss, and the party in the Ten-Ten disappeared. For several long, moist seconds she melted into him. His right hand moved up her back, coming to rest on her cheek. She pulled him even closer, savoring the flat solidness of his chest against hers.

  Too soon, it was over. He released her, stepping back but keeping his hand cradled against her cheek. She floated there with him for a long moment, but soon the raucous sounds of happy celebrants pulled her back to earth. She inhaled raggedly. Shifting her attention away from Rick, she let her eyes focus a few feet to the left of his ruggedly perfect face, trying to regain her equilibrium.