Trouble With Tonya

by Lorna Michaels

  Behind Tonya, three girls kept up a running commentary on his performance, punctuated by giggles and exaggerated sighs. “Oh, that Germain. He so-o fast.”

  “Ooh, girl, he ba-ad.” Tonya interpreted the remark to mean the opposite.

  Germain must have heard because he wiggled his bottom, then turned and winked at his fans. The girls practically swooned.

  When the game ended with a lopsided score of sixty-four to thirty-eight, they scurried over to congratulate Germain and his teammates. Tonya stood and watched them, enjoying the display of hero worship and flirting. Typical teenagers, Tonya thought. How blessedly normal their behavior seemed after the other day’s ugly scene with Janene and Rick.

  After a few minutes the youngsters, drifted away. The girls, chattering excitedly, left the center, and the boys went back inside to change.

  As they crossed the yard toward the door, Germain suddenly broke from the group and raced back, coming to a halt in front of Tonya. “What’d you think?” he asked. He knew he’d been good, she was sure, but he wanted to hear her say it.

  “You were great. Super.”

  His grin broadened. “Yeah.” Then he dashed over to the azalea bushes, which were just beginning to bloom, broke off a stern and returned to Tonya. With a bow, he presented the flowers. “Thanks for comin’,” he told her.

  Touched by the gesture, Tonya responded in kind, with a curtsy. “Thank you for the flowers,” she said.

  Germain raised a hand in salute and loped off to join the others.

  Tonya smiled after him. Nice kid, she thought. As she strolled toward the door, she lifted the azalea blossoms to her nose and inhaled the fragrance of approaching spring.

  “Wait up.” Kirk’s gruff voice came from behind her.

  Tonya halted. As she waited for him to catch up, her heart began to thud. This was the first time since last week that he’d sought her out. What did he want?

  He reached her side, and their eyes met. His were dark and intense. Tonya’s throat constricted. “Wh-what?” she croaked.

  Kirk glanced behind him, toward the street “Let’s go in.”

  Tonya nodded. For a moment, she’d forgotten they were in a potentially dangerous area, and it was getting dark. She’d only focused on the fact that they’d played this scene before and had ended up in each other’s arms. She wondered if Kirk was remembering the same thing. Her pulse beat in her ears as she breathed in the heady scent of sweat and man.

  He opened the door for her, they went inside, passed the spot where they’d stopped last week and continued down the hall. No second act, she thought, then blinked when she realized that Kirk had spoken. “What?”

  “I said I saw you out there with Parker.”

  She frowned. “And?”

  “I didn’t like what went on.”

  His voice was edgy, too edgy to suit her. Deliberately, Tonya raised the azaleas and took a long sniff. “What didn’t you like?” she asked.

  “You encouraged him.”

  She went dead still. Anger surged where anticipation had bubbled only minutes ago. “Encouraged him?” she drawled. “You think I was flirting with the kid?” When Kirk remained silent, she snapped, “Spit it out, Butler. That’s what you think, isn’t it?”

  Kirk took her by the elbow and propelled her along the hall toward her office. In the doorway he stopped. “No, I said ‘encouraged’ and that’s what I meant. Parker is unpredictable. One day he’s rookie of the year, the next day he’s a demon. The more attention he gets, the more likely he is to act out. I’ve seen him at his worst, believe me.”

  She didn’t believe him. Germain was a kid who needed attention, who craved it. She recognized the signals. Why shouldn’t she? She’d transmitted the same ones at his age. “I think you’re overreacting,” she said, raising her chin. “What I did was good for him. Besides, it was no big deal. Just a harmless gesture.”

  Kirk’s laugh had no mirth. “Harmless? Lady,” he growled, “nothing about you is harmless.” As Tonya stared, openmouthed, he swung around and stalked away.

  She sank down on her chair. “What was that all about?”

  Kirk Butler had to be the most infuriating man in the entire universe. One day he kissed her until her toes curled, the next he threatened to bite her head off. And in between, he acted as if she didn’t exist.

  “What’s left?” she muttered. “Where do we go from here?”

  7

  NOWHERE. APPARENTLY, she and Kirk were going nowhere.

  The next day he made himself scarce again. Her only glimpse of him came when she passed the classroom where Ladonna taught childbirth preparation and saw him standing outside, talking to one of the teenage girls. His voice was low, gentle, a marked contrast to the tone he’d used with Tonya. She sighed. Whatever game they were playing, she hadn’t figured out the rules.

  But she wouldn’t let him stop her from doing her job. She had never let a man dictate her life, and she didn’t intend to start now.

  The next afternoon found her back on the bench by the basketball court. She had a perfect right to be here; she was supposed to evaluate the center’s programs and report back to the foundation. And if her presence annoyed Kirk, tough. In fact, she hoped she disturbed him just as much as he did her. She ignored his glowering countenance and settled down to watch practice.

  Half a dozen youngsters crowded around Kirk Toby was there, but Germain was not among them.

  A few minutes later, she caught sight of the boy shuffling across the yard, his gaze on the ground. This was a very different Germain from the enthusiastic teenager she’d seen yesterday. Uh-oh, she thought as Kirk’s face darkened. “Parker,” he shouted. “You’re dose to being late again.”

  “Yeah, so what?” Germain’s expression was defiant.

  “Get over here. Now.”

  Germain maintained his plodding gait If anything, he moved slower.

  Kirk ignored the boy’s obvious challenge. “Shoot around,” he barked, and the others took their places.

  Germain elbowed his way into the line, shoving one boy out of his way. “Hey, watch it,” the kid said.

  Germain paid no attention. When his turn came, he grabbed the ball and tossed it against the backboard.

  “No rebounds, Parker,” Kirk ordered. “We’re shooting baskets.”

  “Oh, yeah, I forgot.” He tossed the ball, watched it catch the rim and sail through, then ran back to grab it and shoot again.

  Kirk jumped and batted the ball away before it reached the hoop. “One shot apiece.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Germain muttered.

  “Kirk!” Ramon came outside. “Can I see you a minute?”

  “Sure. Keep it up, fellas.” He strode across the yard and looked at a stack of papers Ramon held out

  The kids continued their practice. Germain paid little attention to his teammates. He picked up two small rocks and began juggling them, punctuating his tosses with exaggerated movements and loud guffaws.

  His antics didn’t go unnoticed. “What you doin’?” one of the other kids asked. “Practicing to be a clown ’stead of a basketball player?”

  “Yeah, why not?” Germain dropped the rocks and broke into a dance step.

  “Man, you crazy.”

  “You got that right,” Germain agreed.

  Tonya glanced nervously at Kirk. Should she go back and get him? Germain seemed out of control today. Eyeing the court, she slid over toward the other end of the bench.

  Germain’s turn came and he swaggered up to the basket, tossed the ball from hand to hand, threw it in and caught it after one bounce. Then, with a glance toward Kirk and Ramon, he spun around, executing a perfect shot over his shoulder. “Four points,” he chortled.

  Some of his teammates glared; others snickered.

  Germain didn’t seem to care either way. He strolled to the end of the line, stood a moment toying with a button on his sweater, then suddenly pushed forward and cut in line ahead of Toby. Clearly offended, the othe
r boy shoved him.

  “You keep your hands offa me,” Germain snarled, adding an obscenity that had Toby clenching his fists and taking a threatening step forward.

  “Get him, Toby,” someone shouted.

  Germain darted away. He was fast, but Toby’s pace was fueled by anger. He easily overtook Germain and landed the first punch. Tonya winced at the sound of fist connecting with jaw.

  The other boys yelled encouragement. “Come on, Toby. Get that little—”

  Terrified, Tonya jumped up. “Kirk,” she shouted, and ran for him.

  But the noise had already alerted him. He charged past Tonya with Ramon close behind him. Before Kirk reached them, Germain had Toby on the ground and was straddling his chest and pummeling him unmercifully.

  Kirk grabbed Germain from behind and jerked him to his feet while Ramon pulled Toby up and walked him to the other side of the court. Shouting curses, Germain reared back and kicked. But Kirk was too strong; he easily held Germain away from him and soon had him subdued. “Inside, Parker,” he ordered. “I’ll see you in my office.”

  Germain clenched his fists. “What about him?” he snarled, scowling at Toby.

  “He’s not your concern. Get inside.”

  Germain swore violently. “No way. I’m gettin’ off the team. You ain’t my coach no more so you can’t tell me what to do. I’m goin’ home.” He stomped away.

  Maybe she could get through to him, Tonya thought. She’d talk him into listening to Kirk, staying on the team. As he stalked by her, she put out a hand. “Germain.”

  “Leave me be.” With another curse, he pushed past her. She watched in silence as he marched across the yard, bent to pick something up, then disappeared around the side of the building.

  She took a step after him, then another, but Ramon’s voice stopped her. “Let him go. Give him time to calm down.”

  Tonya swung around. She’d been so focused on Germain, she hadn’t heard Ramon come up behind her. Now she glanced back at the basketball court and saw Kirk talking to Toby. “Sit out for three minutes,” Kirk told him, and gestured to the bench. Toby plodded over and sat down. Kirk blew his whistle and the rest of the boys gathered around him to continue their practice.

  Tonya didn’t like the way Kirk had handled the fight. She turned and looked toward the front of the building. Maybe Germain had had second thoughts. No, he was gone. And Ramon was right. She could do nothing for the boy now. But as she thought of the angry, defiant youngster marching off, she felt a lump in her throat

  “Come on.” Ramon’s voice was sympathetic. “You look like you could use some coffee.”

  Tonya nodded and fell into step beside him. In a way, this was worse than the scene between Rick and Janene for Tonya because she knew Germain. She’d developed a relationship with the boy, at least she’d thought so. Now she didn’t know what to think. She was upset and disgusted with Kirk. If anything, he’d made Germain angrier.

  When they arrived at the kitchen, Ramon filled a mug with coffee and held it out. Tonya took it, but her hand shook so badly that liquid sloshed onto the counter. Embarrassed, she set the cup down.

  “Why don’t you sit down?” Ramon asked gently.

  “No, I’m okay,” she said, though tears stung her eyes and her hand wouldn’t stop shaking. She leaned against the counter and looked at Ramon. How could he be so calm? “Is it...is it always like this here?”

  “Violent? Yeah, a lot of the time it is.”

  “It’s a violent neighborhood.”

  Tonya looked up to see Kirk in the doorway. Without a thought, she lit into him. “You played favorites out there.”

  “You know I didn’t,” he said quietly, firmly. “You saw Germain start it.”

  “Yeah,” she conceded, “but Toby’s your boy. You gave him three minutes on the bench, but you sent Germain inside.”

  With a sigh, Kirk went to the coffeepot, filled a cup and took a sip. “I call ‘em like I see ’em. That’s the best I can do.” He ran his fingers through his already tousled hair. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I do give preference to Toby, but damn it, the kid has so much going for him. His grades are good. He could get into college if he keeps them up, if he stays out of the gang...” He sighed again. “So many ifs.”

  Now Tonya saw the frustration on his face, the lines of fatigue and discouragement, and forgot her own anger and shock. Suddenly, she wanted to put her arms around him, draw his head down to her breast and tell him everything would be all right.

  But it wouldn’t.

  How did he and Ramon and the others bear it? How did they deal with these kids day after day? She raised her eyes to Kirk’s and found him looking at her. “How do you get used to it?” she asked softly.

  “You don’t, but you harden yourself. You build a wall, like a doctor does to handle the death of patients.”

  “But—”

  “Go home, Tonya. It’s getting late.” She heard none of the anger he’d expressed before when he’d told her to leave, only a resigned sympathy.

  Tonya nodded. For once, she was willing to take his advice.

  She left the kitchen and stopped by her office to retrieve her purse. She opened it and felt for her keys. Damn things were hiding somewhere. She shook the bag. Yes, she could hear them rattling around on the bottom, but when she stuck her hand in, they were nowhere to be found.

  With a resigned sigh, she sat down and dumped the bag out on her desk. A tube of lipstick rolled onto the floor, a telephone message she’d carelessly stuffed inside and hadn’t been able to find appeared. She fished through the rest of the clutter until she located the keys. She tossed everything else back in the bag, got up and remembered the lipstick.

  Finding it took several minutes of crawling around on the floor. After peering at the label on the bottom of the tube, she dropped the lipstick in the trash can. That tube was empty, and she’d forgotten to replace it. Annoyed, she groped in her purse until she found the notebook with her daily schedule. Under Things To Do, she scribbled, “Buy lipstick,” then on the next line added, “Get organized.” Nice trick if she could do it. So far in all her twenty-seven years, she hadn’t come close.

  She flipped off the light in her office and locked the door. At least the hunt for her keys had gotten her mind off Germain. Maybe she’d stop by Sam and Wade’s tonight. Her cousins, especially Wade, were always good for a laugh. Or maybe, since they too dealt with the seamy side of life in their detective agency, they could give her some pointers on how to build that tough shell Kirk mentioned.

  She left by the back door and walked rapidly to the parking lot, humming to herself. She’d call Sam on the cellular phone she kept hidden under the front seat of the truck, offer to stop and pick up dinner—

  “Oh, my God!”

  She stood and stared for a moment, hoping she was imagining what she thought she saw, praying that the stress of the afternoon had brought on a hallucination. Then she raced to the truck. No, this was no illusion. What she saw was real.

  Someone had smashed the passenger-side window of the pickup to smithereens.

  She stared down at the ground. Shards of glass glittered in the waning sunlight. The entire window was gone. Inside she saw more bits of shattered glass on the seat and floorboard.

  Carefully, she opened the door and peered in. Had anything been taken? Nothing. They hadn’t even tried to force open the glove compartment. That was some consolation, but what an end to the day!

  Should she call the cops? No, she doubted it would do much good. What she needed to do was get something with which to sweep up the glass. There went her plans for the evening.

  She dashed inside, got a whisk broom, dustpan and garbage bag from the kitchen closet and headed back down the hall, her mind focused on the broken window.

  With a thunk, she collided against a warm, very hard body. She heard a sharp breath and inhaled a familiar scent. Kirk.

  Tonya gasped and dropped the broom as he reached out to steady her. Darn, she
didn’t want to see him now. He’d probably deliver a lecture about the window and manage to make her feel like the culprit herself.

  “Where are you going in such a hurry?” he asked.

  She wouldn’t lie, she decided; she’d just evade the truth. “Home.”

  He raised a brow. “With a broom?”

  “I guess you wouldn’t believe me if said it was my transportation.”

  He shook his head slowly, then gave her that sexy smile. “Oh, I believe you’re a witch, but not the kind who rides on broocnsticks.”

  Intrigued, Tonya asked, “What kind?”

  “The kind who casts spells on mortal men.” His voice was low and deep, like rough velvet He bent his head. Lifting a hand to her cheek, he urged her closer.

  Tonya’s eyes drifted shut. Her lips parted—

  “Coach ! Someone bashed in the window of that black pickup out there!” Like a bucket of ice water tossed in their faces, the excited voice broke the spell

  Kirk straightened. “Black pickup?” His gaze shot to the broom, then to Tonya’s face. “Yours, right?”

  “Mine,” she muttered, and braced for the inevitable lecture.

  To her surprise, Kirk merely picked up the broom and said, “Thanks for telling me, Terrell. We’ll take care of it.”

  They went out into the gathering dusk. As she gazed for the second time at the smashed window, Tonya sighed. “Thank heavens my baby’s safe at home.”

  Kirk glanced at her quickly, startled.

  Tonya realized how her words would be interpreted and laughed. “I mean my baby in the garage.”

  “You have a baby in your garage?” he asked, looking totally confused.

  “I mean my car—the Jaguar. I’m glad it wasn’t damaged.”

  “Ah.” He chuckled. “Has anyone ever mentioned that you’re hard to follow?”

  “Yes, I mean, no. Give me the broom.” She pulled it away from him and began to sweep. Kirk leaned against the front fender and watched her. “Would one of the Sabers do this?” she asked him.