Mrs. Hobbs handed her a clipboard of papers and pointed to a chair. “Be as accurate as you can. It helps us in determining your needs.”
Two hours later, a dazed Enid sat in a tiny dorm room furnished with a bunk bed, two chairs, two lockers, a table and a battered wastebasket. The window overlooked a dirt field bounded by ragged brush. Enid looked over the items Mrs. Hobbs had given her: sheets, blanket, pillow, towel, soap, toothbrush, toothpaste and a comb. Mrs. Hobbs told her that she would be given an extra set of clothes later in the day.
Tweaker stuck her head in the door. “Hey badass.”
Enid grinned, happy to see a familiar face.
“Mrs. Hobbs gave me permission to give you the grand tour.”
“Am I going to have a roommate?” Enid nodded at the bunk bed.
“You never know. A girl will come in while you’re sleeping and be gone before you’re awake. Most girls don’t stay long. Spaz just came in last week. Me, Bones and Red been here the longest.”
“What about Heather?”
“Four months. I don’t think she’ll last too much longer.”
“What do you mean? Like, run away?”
“It doesn’t pay to be too nosy around here.” Tweaker waved for her to follow her. Once in the hallway, Tweaker opened a door that revealed a long room of toilet stalls on one side and shower stalls with a plastic curtain in front of each on the other. “You want hot water, get here by seven-o-eight and, unless you want to get your ass kicked, don’t ever flush when somebody is in the shower. Shout your stall number and they’ll flush for you when they leave. They’ll do the same for you.”
Tweaker led her down the stairs to the first floor and pushed open a door. “Cafeteria,” Tweaker said. Four rows of cafeteria tables were lined up and an older woman with a sour face and two girls were working to set up for lunch. “That’s Rosa,” Tweaker whispered, “When you pull lunch duty – keep your mouth shut and do whatever she tells you.”
“Over there!” Rosa barked, whacking a startled girl on the back of the thigh with a wooden spoon. The girl changed directions, scurrying to pick up a stack of plates.
Enid’s mouth fell open in astonishment. “You can’t hit students! Back in Florida, one of the teachers got fired – ”
“You ain’t in Kansas anymore, Dorothy.” Tweaker pulled her down the hall and they turned a corner. She pointing to a long hallway and said, “Classrooms.”
“Don’t you go to school?” Enid asked in surprise.
“Home school – minus the home. Wait till you get a load of Mr. Graves.” Tweaker shook her hand like it was blazing hot.
At that moment, a handsome man in his late twenties, with a crew cut and muscles, came out of one of the classrooms. He looked at Tweaker in surprise. “Susan, what are you doing out here? Shouldn’t you be…?
“Mrs. Hobbs told me to show the new girl around,” Tweaker said, hooking her thumb at Enid.
“Oh. Well, welcome.” Mr. Graves smiled pleasantly at Enid. “Finish the tour and get back to class, Susan.”
He disappeared around the corner.
Tweaker sighed in admiration, “He’s so hot!”
“I’m in love too,” Enid smiled, thinking about Chip.
“Didn’t say I was in love! Yuck.”
“What’s that?” Enid said, pointing to a door that had a “Not in Session’ sign.
Tweaker made a face, “One of the requirements of you ‘having the privilege’ of staying here is you have to do one assigned chore every day, go to class and go to your weekly therapy session with Dr. Dick. Believe me, it ain’t worth missing.”
“Why?”
“Your parents dead – or they just not want you?” Tweaker said abruptly.
Enid started. She hadn’t thought about her mother since last night. For the first time, she felt a stab of guilt. She had a mother – none of these girls had a mother – or at least, if they did, their mother didn’t want them – and they knew it.
“My mom’s a drunk,” Enid said.
“She alive?”
Enid hesitated. “No.”
“You have a dad?”
Enid made a face, unsure how to answer.
“Me too. Unknown sperm donor.”
Enid smiled uneasily.
Footsteps sounded from down the hall.
Tweaker hissed, “Dr. Dick.”
Enid turned to see a man in his forties striding toward them. He was dressed in a light summer suit and Enid was caught by his manner of walking. It reminded Enid of the way Dusty Russell swaggered around the playground after recess, bragging about how he got to second base with Louise Jenkins behind the middle school garbage bins.
“Enid Smith? I’ve been looking for you. Mrs. Hobbs gave me your paperwork. How are you settling in?” He stopped in front of them and gave them what Enid could only describe as a “rat-eyeballing-bacon” smile.
Enid glanced at the front entrance that was only a sprint distance away.
“This way,” He gestured toward the door. Enid turned to Tweaker, but she was gone.
“Follow me,” he said.
Enid hesitated, but entered. She stopped, staring in astonishment at his office, which was as plush as the rest of the school was spartan. From the deep swag of the carpet that seemed to gobble up her feet to the heavy burgundy velvet blinds to what Enid recognized as a fainting couch – the place gave her the heebie-jeebies.
“I’m Doctor Pearce. We’re going to be meeting once a week. Have a seat.” He gestured her toward a couch that looked vaguely lewd.
She hesitated.
“Sit.”
Enid walked stiffly to the couch and perched herself on the edge.
“Are you nervous?” he asked.
Enid raised her chin in an effort to look braver than she felt. “No.”
“You’re safe here. Everything we discuss is confidential.”
“What if I want to leave?”
“You came to the school voluntarily, didn’t you?”
Enid nodded, uncertain.
“There’s no fences, no bars on the window. You can leave whenever you like.”
“Why’s your office so fancy?”
“You like it?”
“It’s – different.”
“Tell me why you’re here?”
Enid tried to remember all the lies she had written on the paperwork. She felt a spurt of panic at the thought of him figuring out that she was lying. She blurted out, “My name’s Enid Smith. I’m from Florida. My mother’s dead and I don’t know who my father is.”
“Any relatives?”
Enid shook her head.
“So, you’re alone in the world? No aunts, no uncles?”
Enid shook her head.
“That must be scary.”
Enid shot him a look. There was an edge in his voice that set her nerves tingling. She crossed her arms, trying to stop herself from trembling.
“Thirsty?”
Enid nodded.
He went to a sideboard where he poured water out of a crystal decanter into a glass. He crossed the room, his footsteps silent in the deep carpet. She took the heavy glass and gulped greedily. She hadn’t realized how thirsty she was until now. Gulping down the last of the water, she wiped her mouth, handed him back the glass.
He replaced it on the sideboard and sat down. “Tell me about yourself.”
Enid sighed, feeling more relaxed.
“Do you have a boyfriend?” he said.
Enid smiled, thinking of Chip. She scratched her lip, noticing for the first time how tired she was.
“What’s his name?”
“Chip.”
“Does Chip know where you are?”
Enid shook her head and felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to lie down and sleep.
“You look tired.”
“Uh-huh,” Enid murmured. She looked around, surprised. The plush carpet was moving – swirling around her like dark water – she was on a raft and the purple plush water was la
pping the edges of her raft, urging her to sleep…
“Are you all right?” His voice was soft and distant, melting away as she drifted further from the shore. She reached her hand out…
For what?
He asked her something, but his voice was far away – like the summer buzz of bees. Enid felt herself slipping down, the waves gently lapping as they murmured softly, urging her to sleep…
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
I’ve already told you: the only way to a woman’s heart is along the path of torment. I know none other as sure.
–Marquis de Sade
Jack expected to be relieved that Enid was out of his hair for the day, but was surprised when he couldn’t shake a feeling of unease. He had an uncomfortable feeling that maybe he’d done the wrong thing. He promised that he’d meet her at six o’clock and, despite his shabby track record in the promise department – that was one promise he intended to keep.
It was another scathingly blue-sky Arizona day, with the temperature steadily climbing, as Jack drove to Vivian’s home in Old Scottsdale. Her Italian-styled villa was hidden by high walls and, at the gated entrance, he pressed a button and spoke with a woman who buzzed him through the gates. Once inside the gate, the landscaping was an expanse of lush green lawn and flowers that didn’t have any business existing in Arizona.
Jack parked the car. A maid in a uniform stood waiting for him at the door.
“Good morning,” Jack said, smiling.
She nodded, remaining stonily silent as she led him through the villa and onto a patio that overlooked an impressive English garden. Jack gazed contemptuously at the carefully crafted plants and flowers. As beautiful as it was, a garden in the desert struck Jack as self-indulgent and foolish. The desert with its birds and jackrabbits always seemed more alive to him than the green expanse of grass and strategically situated trees and flowers of a carefully landscaped yard. You might as well decide to hold back the tide, as turn the desert into an English garden.
A table set for two sat in the center of the patio and, at the sight of Eve, Jack stopped short.
Eve stood at the edge of the patio with her back toward him. The early morning sunshine framed her perfect figure and made her cream-colored blouse almost translucent.
Jack stood silent and watchful, his heart pounding.
Eve turned, her voice dripping with disdain. “Imagine my surprise – Jack Fox has a date – with my mother.”
Jack walked to the table, hoping he wasn’t betraying the effect that she was having on him.
“What exactly are you after? Blackmail?”
Jack sat down at the table, smiled pleasantly as he lightly quipped, “What’s it worth – to keep my mouth shut?”
Eve’s eyes flashed angrily.
Jack poured coffee for himself. He held up the pot in a silent offer to pour for her, but she ignored him.
From her flashing green eyes to the swell of her breast under the sheer blouse, he couldn’t remember the last time he wanted a woman the way he wanted her.
“Hypothetically,” he asked, “how much?”
“Hypothetically,” Eve enunciated, “I’ll have an army of lawyers up your ass so fast you won’t know what hit you.”
Jack laughed – a deep genuine thing that seemed to leave her unsettled. He leaned back, loving the way her eyes seemed to shoot sparks. Jack spoke softly, “I like you. I guess you know that.”
“You like me so much, you’re going to blackmail my mother?” Eve snapped.
Jack’s eyes lingered on her face. “Sit down. Talk to me. I’ll forget all about my blackmail scheme.”
Eve examined him suspiciously. After a moment, she scowled, “You’re full of shit.”
“Ahhh, you like me too.”
Scowling, Eve sat. She waved away the coffee pot that he held up for a second time. “Are you working for me or not?”
“Haven’t made up my mind.”
“What are you after?”
Jack gave her a look that couldn’t be misunderstood.
After a long moment, she gave a shrug and surprised Jack by speaking matter-of-factly. “Mother married Daniel when I was eight. Bigger house, better life. He knew about mother’s line of work – that’s where he met her.”
“The Sugar Shack?”
“No. Radio Shack,” she said sarcastically.
“What about Jeni?”
Eve surprised him again by speaking thoughtfully, “Mother was friends with Jeni’s mother…”
“Ann Smith.”
“She died. The grandmother was some religious person who wanted nothing to do with Jeni. Mother adopted Jeni.”
“Without bothering with any of the pesky paperwork?” Jack said wryly.
Eve shrugged. “Mother has her own way of doing things.”
Ignoring her previous refusals, Jack poured her coffee and watched as her perfectly manicured fingers wrapped around the cup. He shivered, imagining her fingers wrapping around him.
“Jeni was an orphan. Mother did a good thing.”
“Did your father…?”
“Stepfather,” Eve corrected.
“Sexually molest you?” Jack asked politely.
Eve froze. After a moment, she gave a low pitying laugh, “Is that for shock value? Am I supposed to melt down in tears, confess all?”
Jack raised his eyebrows.
“My stepfather was a perfect gentleman. An excellent surrogate father,” she said calmly.
Jack allowed himself a gentle ironic smile, “And you’re a nice girl?”
“Exceptionally.”
“What happened to your real father?”
“The reason I paid you to drop Jeni’s case – I’m trying to protect her.”
“Liar.”
Eve gave him a haughty look. “You certainly are intent on seeing me as the nefarious villain.”
“Who do you think murdered your stepfather?”
“I don’t know and I don’t care to speculate.”
“What are you doing tonight?”
“Not you.”
Jack grinned, liking the challenging edge to her voice.
Eve stood and looked down on him. “Seeing as how you’re not blackmailing my mother…”
Jack felt disappointment curling in his stomach. He didn’t want to go, he wanted to stay with her – no matter what the cost.
“Jeni’s writing a book,” Jack blurted out before he realized what he was saying. He felt a stab of regret as he recalled his promise to Jeni – not to tell anyone about the book that she probably wasn’t writing anyway.
Another broken promise.
What did it matter, anyway?
Eve was staring at him, unsure.
Jack heard himself talking, even as his gut yelled for him to shut up, take it back, or just plain get the hell out. “Autobiography. Family skeletons – a tell-all.”
“Jeni wouldn’t voluntarily read a book, much less write one.”
Jack took a gulp of coffee and forced himself to stand. He stood looking at her for a moment, feeling at a loss, not knowing how to tear himself away.
He opened his mouth to tell her that he made it up – it wasn’t true…
“You’re lying. I know you are – you’re that type.” Her voice snapped with contempt.
Pretending a glibness he didn’t feel, Jack gave a light laugh. “I’ll be in touch.”
As he left, he caught her reflection in the glass of the patio doors. She was staring at him, her lips and eyes tight with fear.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Keep your broken arm inside your sleeve.
–Chinese Proverb
Bud decided that if ceiling-staring were an Olympic sport, he’d have earned a gold by now. He’d been discharged from the hospital and, in the privacy of their home, Bud broached the subject of Bunnie’s requested six-week leave. The discussion quickly morphed into an ugly argument that ended with Bunnie crashing around the kitchen baking Rice Krispies treats, Chip hiding out in his ro
om and Bud stretched out on the guest bed, staring glumly at the ceiling. He felt like an old battle horse in a harness of electrodes as “they” monitored his heart rate. He now carried a fanny pack of heart medications, and his new life consisted of blood thinners, a low-cholesterol and heart-healthy diet, nitroglycerin to place under his tongue if he began having any chest pain, cardiologist appointments and – in the midst of all this – he was advised that he needed to decrease any stress in his life.
Bud didn’t know what was making him more crazy – living with the knowledge that his heart could turn on him faster then lukewarm milk at a July 4th picnic, the fact that Chip was dating a murderer – or that Bunnie was on the verge of divorcing him.
The doorbell rang and Bud sat up with a groan, listening as Bunnie’s heavy heel strike worked its way to the front door. He’d forgotten to tell her he was expecting a visitor, which was going to make her angrier than a bag of wet alley cats because, in her mind, the scrupulously clean living room wouldn’t be clean enough for a guest.
He padded downstairs, disconcerted at how out of breath he was.
At the bottom of the stairs, Jack Fox and Bunnie had just finished exchanging greetings.
“Thanks for coming over,” Bud said to Jack.
“No problem,” Jack smiled.
“Bunnie, this is Jack Fox. My wife, Bunnie.”
“We met,” Bunnie said, smiling with an artificial brightness she saved for when she was particularly aggravated. She abruptly disappeared into the kitchen.
Bud said, “You want something to drink? Iced tea? Soda?”
“Iced tea sounds good.”
Bud waved for Jack to have a seat in the living room. He went into the kitchen and listened to Bunnie’s grumbling as he got the iced tea.
Returning to the living room, Bud found Jack examining framed family photographs. Bud handed him a drink. “What’d you deduce?”
“Nice-looking family.”
Bud smiled, keenly aware that a private detective looking through the family photos had picked up more information than that. Bud settled with a sigh into the sofa. “They got me wired like a snitch.”
Gunning For Angels (Fallen Angels Book 1) Page 15