by Laney Monday
I’m sorry to say, I could feel my fake smile getting faker. I didn’t bother telling Mr. Deering that I was not opening an Olympic judo school. I’d had enough experience with reporters to know that would just get edited out anyway.
I put on my best warm and friendly face. The one Blythe had helped me practice in front of the mirror, when I’d first captured local news interest as a teenager, for making the Junior World Team. “I’m sure you have some talented kids in Bonney Bay, who’ll do all kinds of great things,” I said. “I hope we’ll have a lot of kids who benefit from judo, whatever that means for them.”
“Let’s talk to one of those kids now,” Deering said.
Thank God, Ellison, the newspaper reporter, went to interview the mayor, and Deering focused on a little ballerina standing nearby. She stopped sucking on her fingers to say, “I love Miss Ruth. I wish she wouldn’ hafta leave us.”
And that’s when I saw the breeziness leak right out of Ruth, in an instant. Now that his focus was off her, Ruth eyed Baxter warily. At first I thought she was disappointed at losing the attention, but no, there was a striking look in her eye. She was stressed, and putting on a far better show than I ever could for the camera, for her little dancers and all her fans in Bonney Bay.
What was bothering Miss Ruth? Probably nothing more than mixed feelings about retirement, concern for the kids she cared about. It must be hard for her to leave them behind. But I thought I’d detected something a bit beyond that kind of worry—something I’d learned to pick up on in my opponents—fear. But that didn’t make any sense. What could Miss Ruth have to be afraid of? Ellison Baxter? That was who she kept glancing at, as though deep in thought—troubled thought. I was just reading into things. Projecting, Blythe would probably say.
Miss Ruth caught me looking at her. She nodded at the TV crew. “I’ll bet you get a lot of that.” She smiled a weary sort of smile.
I returned her smile. “Not really. Only when I went to big events. Most Americans don’t really know about judo, and when I go abroad, the foreign media is big on judo, but they don’t care much about the American competitors.”
“You both did great,” Blythe said.
“You look a little stressed. If there’s anything we can help with … ” I offered.
“Oh, no. The apartment’s all packed up, and I’ve got a crew lined up to disassemble the stage—it’s just a temporary one we put up for recitals—and clear out the dance studio when we’re done here. Just seeing you two here is a big help. It’s such a relief to know someone’s coming in here to offer something for these kids. I was worried the building would just sit empty. Or end up being made into an antique shop. It’s important to me that Bonney Bay stays a good place for families. We don’t want to become a town full of nothing but retirees. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve got nothing against retirees, especially since I’m about to become one. But we all need children in our lives, don’t you think?”
I nodded. “Their enthusiasm is contagious. They have their whole lives ahead of them, and they’re so excited to learn.”
“Exactly!”
A older girl with hair dyed dark like Miss Ruth’s scurried up to Miss Ruth. She gave me and Blythe a self-conscious smile. “Miss Ruth,” she said, “it’s time!”
“Of course! Thank you. Ladies, you’d better take your seats.”
Blythe and I glanced at each other uneasily.
“Right here.” Ruth gestured at two chairs in the front row. Sure enough, a pink streamer had been draped across them. A pink card, placed on the first seat and hand-lettered by a child, read, “Reserved for Brenna Battle.” The other seat was labeled, “Reserved for Blythe Battle.”
“Front row seats!” Blythe said. “Thank you, Ruth.”
Soon every seat was full, the lights dimmed, the audience hushed. I relaxed, focused, like everyone else, on the stage. I got lost in the delight of parents and grandparents, applauding the grace and poise, then stifling laughter at the stumbling and shy waves to Mom. It almost made me wish I’d been a ballerina. Almost.
4
Blythe hooked her arm through mine as we headed for the truck.
“You did great, Bren,” she said.
“Thanks.” I was honestly feeling pretty good about myself. I’d powered through countless introductions and made smalltalk like a pro, all without spilling punch on myself or anyone else. I brushed a few lingering cupcake sprinkles off my T-shirt. The new sugar high helped, too.
I took a deep breath of fresh, cool evening air. The recital and party had been almost fun, except for the part where Ellison Baxter spent ten minutes telling Blythe all about his sailboat and how much he’d love to take her out in it. But I was glad we were finally headed for a real meal and that we were away from the crowd—except for a couple of moms with their ballerinas in tow, headed for their cars.
No, headed straight for us, looking like a couple of hunters on the prowl. One of them was tall, her hair teased so that it poofed up behind a thick headband. The other was a little shorter and rounder with a head full of the kind of dark curls I’d always envied.
Miss Headband put her hands on her hips and blinked huge lashes, cemented with mascara, at me.
“Uh, hello,” I said nervously. “Fun party, wasn’t it? And the dancers were—“
“I’m Stacey Goode and this is Rebecca Hayes. We know who you are.”
“And we know you’re not just new tenants,” Rebecca, the one with the curls, added.
Stacey leaned closer. “You’re the landlords, right? You’ve got something to do with this, we know it. Miss Ruth wouldn’t just up and leave. None of us believe this story about retirement. Ruth bounces off the walls just about as much as my five-year-old.” She nodded at the little boy at her side. He was busy trying to hop on one foot. “Miss Ruth can do the splits as easy as battling an eyelash. What’d you do to drive her out?”
I opened my mouth to retort, but Blythe squeezed my arm. “The kids, Brenna,” she whispered.
Rebecca’s kid, a girl about six years old, looked up at me with her arms crossed and her bottom lip sticking out. Her hair was just like her mother’s. Most of it was still wound into a tight bun, topped with a crooked silver and pink tiara, but a few defiant, gel-encrusted sprigs sprang free. “You’re not welcome here!”
“Yeah!” The little boy stopped hopping. “You should leave.”
The tiara bobbed up and down as the girl nodded. “Go home!”
“No one is driving Miss Ruth anywhere.” I directed my words at the mothers. Except your kids, who’re probably solely responsible for driving her crazy, if they’re half the pain in the patootie you two are, I wanted to say.
“I think there’s a big misunderstanding here,” Blythe said smoothly. “Ruth called us. She’d decided to move before—”
Stacey laughed right in Bly’s face. “You expect anyone to believe that?” She shrugged. “Fine. Stay. Just try to open your judo school. You won’t last long without any students, will you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I folded my arms to keep myself from shoving Stacey away.
Rebecca said, “Bonney Bay sticks together. We back up our own. Even the ones too nice to stand up to sleaze like you.”
Blythe’s mouth actually fell open. “Sleaze!”
“Rolling around on the floor.” Rebecca glanced at the kids, then lowered her voice to a hushed—and repulsed—whisper. “Even on top of boys. It’s disgusting. Vulgar.”
Judo looks more like wrestling than karate. We don’t kick and punch; we throw each other to the mat and pin, choke, or arm bar. It’s rough. It’s sweaty. It’s not for girls who can’t part with their makeup. Though a grown woman would never compete against a man in a tournament, we practice together all the time. And as for the little kids—like these precious angels standing in front of me—they often had co-ed competitions.
“Way too low class for Bonney Bay,” Stacey agreed.
Blythe took a deep breath and stood up t
all. “Judo is an Olympic sport. And Brenna Battle is World Class. In case you didn’t know.”
“Oh, I know plenty.” Stacey gave Blythe a dismissive look and turned to me and bored right into me with wide, crazy-lashed eyes. “I looked you up. You couldn’t cut it, and now you expect us little folks in our little town to thank our lucky stars you show up here?”
I was going to lose it. Any second now, they’d be coming for me with a straight jacket.
Blythe grabbed my arm, more sharply than usual. “Bren,” she whispered. She jerked her head a little—toward a police car that had pulled up next to us. Great. Did these gems have the cops on their side, too? I was biting back a smart remark about being arrested for Moving to Bonney Bay While Not Being Sufficiently Classy when the door opened, and a police officer stepped out.
“Hello, ladies. Is there a problem?”
The deep male voice gave me a jolt. The kind of jolt I most certainly did not appreciate feeling when it came from a tall, well-muscled young cop who clearly spent a lot of time in the gym—probably just to enhance his look and his edge on the beach volleyball court, I reminded myself. Well, to be fair, the beach was probably too rocky for that here, not to mention a little chilly. But I knew the type. I knew better than to get sucked in by a puffed-up jock. And the only thing worse than a puffed-up jock was a puffed-up jock cop.
“Yes!” the kids answered the cop.
“No!” all the adults said at the same time.
The officer raised his eyebrows at Rebecca and Stacey. Then he bent down so he was at eye level with the kids. He looked the tiara girl in the eye. “Abby?”
I saw Rebecca’s hand move toward little Abby, to pinch or poke her, but the kid had a sixth sense for her mother’s warnings and dodged it like a pro. “We don’t want these judo people here. We want Miss Ruth.”
I swear, that kid hissed at the officer like a snake. Officer Friendly stood back up abruptly and muttered, “Everyone’s going to miss Ruth and Little Swans.”
I thought he was about to get philosophical about how change was a part of life, but I guess he was still too freaked out over how vehemently Bonney Bay’s newest citizens were hated.
“We don’t like judo people!” the little boy added.
His carefully combed strawberry-blond hair barely moved as he shook his head. It looked like it had been sprayed almost as much as his mother’s poofy ’do. I hoped it was just for the performance.
The officer said, “Well, I guess you don’t like me then, Leo. Did you know we do judo at the Police Athletic Club?” It was clear from the look on the women’s faces that they didn’t know that.
My heart rose, then sank. Everyone didn’t hate us—and judo—here after all. We might even have an ally here, in the local police! A very handsome police officer, who was willing to come to my—well, probably Blythe’s—rescue. And that was just it, wasn’t it? He was trying to kiss up. I studied his strong but clearly never-broken fingers. His perfect ears, not “cauliflowered” by years of rough workouts. He was either new to judo or he was talking completely out of his you-know-what. Typical puffed-up jock. Sigh.
Rebecca grabbed Abby’s hand. “Well, that’s fine for you,” she snapped. “I’m sure such things are necessary, you know, working with criminals and all … ”
“But not for our kids!” Stacey finished for her. She yanked Leo along, too.
“Wow,” the officer said.
I folded my arms. “Yeah.”
Blythe shook her head. “I thought things went so well at the party. I had no idea … ”
Officer Friendly smiled at Blythe warmly and held out his hand. “I’m Officer Will Riggins.” I watched him closely, looking for that predatory spark my sister had such a knack for attracting. And that’s when I noticed it was me he was looking at, out of the corner of his eye. Deep, dark brown eyes with thick, heavy lashes.
Blythe introduced herself and shook his hand. I barely heard her introduce me, with the mixture of attraction and panic burbling up from my heart and into my head.
“Blythe does judo too,” I blurted. Where did that come from? It came from the wicked part of me that would throw my beautiful sister at this guy like a sacrificial lamb rather than risk getting hurt again myself, that’s where. I was stunned to discover there was such a side to myself when the tables were turned.
“Well, the two of you are more than welcome to come by and practice with us any time. I’m sure you could teach us quite a bit.”
I slapped my public figure smile back on. Sure. I’ll bet I can guess exactly what kind of things you have in mind, Officer Friendly.
“Thanks, but I think we’ll be pretty busy getting this place set up.” I gestured at the pink building behind us.
“Of course. Here.” He fumbled for his card. “Give me a call if you … have any problems. And … ” He took a pen from his pocket and scribbled on the card, glanced warily at me, then handed it to Blythe with a sheepish shrug. “Our practice times, in case you two change your mind and decide to come by.”
Ha! Fat chance. What a jerk. I guess either one of us would do for Officer Will Riggins. I snatched the card just before Blythe’s fingers closed around it.
“Thanks,” I said icily.
Officer Riggins straightened his broad shoulders. The glimmer of nervousness, of eagerness, disappeared, and his dark eyes sparked with something that struck me distinctly as a challenge.
I smiled. I loved a challenge, and I rarely lost one.
Riggins puffed himself back up and got back in his cruiser.
“I thought he was nice.” Blythe gave me that innocent, puzzled, Why are you so mean, Brenna? Look.
Of course you did, I thought. That’s why you married Jake.
“Don’t tell me he set off your creep-o-meter, too.”
I opened my mouth to tell her that of course he had. But that was just it. He hadn’t. Those dark, sincere eyes had nearly drawn me in, and not a blip of an alarm from the creep-o-meter, when his “interest” in me alone should have set it off. I’d almost bought his act there for a minute. What was wrong with me? What was I going to do if my creep-o-meter was broken?
I shrugged. “I’m so tired. Let’s get some real food and figure out where we’re going to sleep tonight.”
And then, maybe we’d go to that practice after all. Better to settle this thing with Officer Friendly—and give my creep-o-meter another chance to affirm what I knew must be true—sooner rather than later, right?
5
Sally’s Diner was a short walk down the street from the studio and apartment. Tired as I was, it felt good to stretch my legs and inhale the fresh, cool air. Blythe had called the local inns to inquire about a room for the night, and we’d found out Bonney Bay was apparently accustomed to hosting well-to-do couples looking for a quiet getaway in a quaint little town; not a couple of twenty-somethings trying to hang onto their pennies to start up a new business. So we’d settled on the fact that we were in for a night of sleeping on the floor of our new apartment above the dance studio. We decided to splurge on a good meal instead. By the time we took quick showers in the empty little apartment Ruth had left for us, we were dying for a meal.
“Mmm.” Blythe savored one of the last bites of her spinach and salmon quiche.
I leaned back against the padded seat of our booth and patted my stomach. I’d polished off an enormous bleu cheese burger topped with coleslaw and arugula, with two baskets of steak fries. What can I say? I was starving, and the fry refills were free.
Blythe stared dreamily out the window, watching the sailboats drift by in water glimmering with fading summer daylight. “Did I tell you about Ellison’s boat?”
I’m proud to say, I did not roll my eyes at the mention of the boat Ellison had spent about twenty minutes bragging about to a rapt Blythe. “I think I overheard a little. Listen, Blythe, we’ve got so many things to figure out, so much work to do. Not to mention figuring out how this town works. I think it would be good for both of
us to take a break from guys for a while. So we can focus.”
A smile tugged at Blythe’s lips as she fought it back. Her eyes twinkled at me.
“Just say it, Bly.”
“You’ve been taking a break from guys your whole life!”
“Which is how I was able to focus!”
“You’re right.” Blythe nodded sincerely. “I’ve always admired your focus. And I agree. We have a lot going on, and we need to keep our eyes on the prize.”
“Exactly!”
“But!” She held her palm up to stop me. “I can totally see you with that Will Riggins.”
“The cop?”
She nodded. “Don’t act like you don’t remember his name. I think he likes you. Or he would, if you’d stop trying to stare him down.”
“We just met the guy—”
“Eventually, when the time is right, of course.”
Right. When you-know-where freezes over.
A laugh I’d heard all too much of over the last couple of hours drifted from the front of the restaurant. I looked up and saw our beloved Ellison Baxter chatting with the owner.
“Ellison!” Blythe waved, rising up a little in her seat.
“Blythe!” Ellison answered.
He strode over to our table while I drowned my would-be mutterings with a long sip of Coke.
“I thought I might find you two here.”
Cre-e-e-py.
Ellison flashed his cute, Pretending-to-Be-a-Shy-Nerd-While-Really-a-Shark smile. “Looks like I just missed joining you two for dinner. How about dessert?”
Blythe lit up like a sunbeam, while I tried to flash her some hazard lights. For crying out loud, hadn’t we just talked about her taking a break from guys?
“Sure. Have a seat.”
I tried to give Blythe The Look, but it was too late. That snake was quick. He was already slithering into the booth right next to her. Great. A same-side sitter. A mental image of his hand sneaking onto Blythe’s thigh burst into my head.