Trouble With Tonya

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Trouble With Tonya Page 10

by Lorna Michaels


  He shook his head. “I doubt it. Too tame. More likely, Germain did it.”

  “Germain!” Tonya stopped sweeping and stared at him, astonished. “He...he wouldn’t.”

  “Wouldn’t he? You saw him during basketball practice.”

  “Yeah, he was on a tear today. But yesterday—”

  “Every day’s different with Germain,” Kirk said. “You never know what to expect from him. He’s a kid with an attitude. The only thing you can be sure of is that when he has one of these angry outbursts, he’ll do just about anything. That kid’s headed for serious trouble.”

  “You mean crime.” Tonya emptied a dustpan of glass into the garbage bag, then straightened and put her hands on her hips. It was a gesture anyone in her family would recognize—Tonya at her most determined. “We can’t stand around and let that happen. We have to do something.”

  “Don’t you think we’ve tried? Nothing works.” He sighed as she advanced toward him. “Okay, I’ll talk to him again tomorrow.”

  “What time?”

  “In the after—” He frowned. “You don’t need to be there.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Tonya, believe me. Everyone has talked to this boy and no one’s gotten anywhere.”

  “I’d like to try.” Seeing a no forming on his lips, she added, “Please. It’s important to me.”

  “Why?”

  Because he reminds me of myself at that age, she thought, remembering her early adolescence. One day she’d feel euphoric and the next day even a look would ignite her temper and she’d mouth off at teachers or her parents. Of course, she’d never resorted to vandalism, though maybe if she’d grown up in a different environment, one like Germain’s, she’d have become a delinquent. But she had no intention of dredging up her past and presenting it for Kirk’s scrutiny, so she said, “I’m interested in Germain. Maybe I can help.”

  Kirk shrugged. “Suit yourself, but remember, he’s unpredictable.”

  “Okay.” Tonya opened the driver’s door and, with the whisk, began brushing glass off the seat and into the bag. “How are you going to get Germain over here to talk?” she asked.

  “I’m not even going to try. We’ll set something up at his school. I know the principal.”

  “That’s handy. Do you think you can get Germain’s family to come, too?”

  “I doubt it His dad’s been out of the picture for years, and I’ve met his mother.” Tonya heard the disgust in his voice. “She’s pretty much washed her hands of him.”

  “But...but he’s just a kid.”

  “He’s big enough to bash in your window.”

  She couldn’t argue with that. She worked silently for a few minutes, then surveyed the seat. “There, I think that’s it” She slammed the door. “Ow!”

  Kirk was at her side in an instant. “What happened?”

  “Nothing serious. I must’ve had some glass stuck to my hand.”

  . “Let me see.” Kirk took her hand and turned it over. They both stared at the crisscross of tiny cuts. “You’re bleeding,” he said, his voice thick.

  Amused, Tonya said, “I don’t think it’s fatal.” Then she glanced up at him and saw his pale face. “Hey, a macho guy like you doesn’t faint at the sight of blood, does he?”

  He sent a disgusted and very male scowl her way. “No. Go wash your hands. I’ll finish up.”

  Tonya couldn’t resist teasing. “Sweeping’s women’s work.”

  He grabbed the broom and muttered something unpleasant under his breath. Laughing despite her smarting hand, Tonya went inside. In the bright light of the rest room she could see tiny slivers of glass on her palm. She washed carefully, wincing at the sting. As she rinsed her hands, she thought about Germain.

  When she returned to the parking lot, Kirk looked up from tying the garbage bag. “Are you okay?”

  “Fine. You know,” she added, “I thought about what you said about being careful around Germain. I will, but I’m sure it’s unnecessary. He took out his anger on the car. He wouldn’t hurt me.”

  “Wouldn’t he?” Kirk’s voice was low, angry. He grabbed her hand and turned it palm up. “He already has.”

  To Tonya’s astonishment, he bent his head and very slowly, very gently brushed his lips over her hand. Though his breath warmed her tender skin, she felt a shiver race up her spine.

  Then her bones dissolved as his mouth traveled to her wrist and his tongue touched her pulse. She gasped. At the sound, he raised his head.

  For a long moment, they stared at each other. He put his hands on her shoulders and urged her closer.

  She wasn’t sure she was ready for this. She wasn’t sure about anything. Legs trembling, Tonya stepped away. She slipped a hand behind her and fumbled with the door handle. “I...I should go.” Ask me to stay.

  But he said nothing, only went to unlock the gate, then returned to the side of the truck. He stood for a moment, still silent, then, in a voice that was not quite steady, said, “Put something on your hand when you get home.”

  “Okay.” She had to try twice before her shaking fingers could fit the key into the ignition.

  My God. She’d had her first kiss at age eleven when Tommy Benning had pecked her cheek in the lunch line right under the surprised eyes of Mrs. McLanahan, the fifth-grade teacher. Since then, she’d kissed and been kissed more times than she could count. But never like this. Just the touch of his lips—on her palm, for heaven’s sake—and she’d melted like butter. The man should come with a sign: Danger. Proceed With Caution.”

  She watched him in the rearview mirror as she drove away from the parking lot. He stood like a statue, a bemused expression on his face. She remembered once on a trip to Athens, she’d visited the National Museum and seen a statue of some Greek god. Deep-set eyes, perfect physique, rippling muscles. Standing in the darkness, Kirk reminded her of the statue, but it was lifeless marble and he was hot flesh. She still trembled from his touch, his kiss. She was tempted to make a U-turn, go back to the center and...

  “Never mind,” she said aloud. She shouldn’t be thinking like that A rumble of thunder got her attention. She should be thinking about... the weather.

  Glancing one last time at Kirk standing by the gate, she wondered what he was thinking.

  KIRK CURSED HIMSELF roundly. He’d done it, given in to the craving to taste her again. Seeing the broken window had started it. He’d thought about how much worse the situation could have been. That damn kid could have come at Tonya instead of her truck. When he’d seen the blood on her hand, he’d gone a little crazy. If she hadn’t defused the situation by making a joke of it, he might have been fool enough to...he wasn’t sure what

  He should have left things as they were, but no, he’d had to kiss her. Her hand, of all things. Why? He wasn’t given to courtly gestures. He damn well wasn’t a gentleman.

  Disgusted with himself, he swiped at a rock with the broom. Did she have any idea how she affected him? If he hadn’t used every ounce of control, he’d have gone off like a rocket, taken her right there on the concrete parking lot or dragged her in the building like a caveman.

  He snorted. Caveman. That’s probably what she thought he was. A woman like her was used to finesse, to the kind of men who wore tailored suits to work, who had Ivy League educations and Old Money connections, who knew how to court a woman gently. Guys like that made him want to puke.

  And since the debacle with Amelia, he’d learned to steer clear of women like Tonya. Women who belonged to the country dub and drove red Jaguars. Unfortunately, that didn’t stop him from wanting her. All he had to do was look at her, hear her voice, and his response made his jeans feel as if they’d shrunk two sizes. Damn, he was still aroused. Too bad the basketball court was dark. He needed some exercise.

  He went in and retrieved his motorcycle. As he pushed it outside, he glanced at the sky. Lightning sliced through the clouds. Thunder sounded off to the east If the rain didn’t cool him off by the time he got home, he’d
go to the gym and do some sit-ups and some push-ups...and some bench presses...and swim a few laps.

  By the time Tonya got through with him, he’d look like Mr. Universe.

  8

  IN DEFERENCE TO the school visit, Tonya wore a suit. She fidgeted with the calf-length skirt as she got ready to leave her office; she’d become accustomed to the comfort of jeans. As she hurried down the hall to meet Kirk, she wondered if he’d wear a suit, too.

  He didn’t, but he had dressed up for the occasion in a shirt and sport jacket. He wore his usual belt with the big silver buckle, and jeans that molded his muscular thighs like a second skin. Her gaze, which seemed to have a mind of its own, fastened on those thighs. When she realized he’d noticed, she raised her eyes and focused on his belt buckle. Mistake—she’d chosen another dangerous region. She quickly glanced up, then looked away, but not before she caught the knowing look on his face. Her cheeks heated.

  Talk about the meeting with Germain, she instructed herself, and cleared her throat. “Shall we walk to the school?”

  “I’d rather not, with Rick still on the loose. Besides, it’s going to storm. And I won’t be able to take us, either,” he added, his gaze skimming over her legs. “You’re not dressed for a ride on a Harley.”

  She couldn’t argue with that. It had been raining off and on since last night, and puddles filled the streets. She didn’t care to get drenched driving through them on a motorcycle, Tonya thought as she tried to discreetly smooth her skirt. With Kirk’s eyes following her every move, it was impossible. She gave up and said, “We’ll take the pickup.”

  “You’ve been driving it without a window?” His voice registered disapproval.

  Did he think she was a complete idiot? “Of course not,” she huffed. “I had the window replaced. The repair shop delivered the truck at noon.”

  He tucked a bulky manila folder under his arm. “Let’s go, then.”

  Tonya slipped on a jacket as they went outside. The sky was still overcast, the wind chilly. In spite of the azaleas blooming in the yard, winter had apparently returned. “Did you talk to Germain’s mother about coming?” Tonya asked as they headed for the truck.

  “Yeah, she declined the invitation. No surprise there.”

  “With the mother he has, it’s no surprise he acts the way he does,” Tonya said in disgust.

  “Don’t lay all the blame on his mother. The kid has a violent streak, and he’d be in hot water no matter what.”

  Tonya halted and swung around to face him. Hands on her hips, she glared at him. “What do you mean? That he can’t change—he’s on a path for life?”

  “I wouldn’t be working with these kids if I thought that. I’m saying once they develop a taste for mischief, it gets harder to change them. Look at Rick.”

  Tonya shuddered. She didn’t want Germain to end up like Rick—violent, mean, no doubt behind bars someday. “Then we have to do something now.”

  “You look like you’re ready to call out the marines,” he said, and smiled. The smile that signaled danger. His voice lowered. “Your eyes glitter when you get worked up.”

  Flustered, she didn’t know what to say. She looked around and realized they’d crossed the parking lot. She took a nervous step back and bumped into the truck.

  Kirk moved closer, reminding her again of a tiger. And he was on the prowl again. “You’re blushing.”

  She fumbled for her purse. “Watch out I have my weapon.”

  Raising both hands above his head, he grinned and stepped back. “I wouldn’t want to tangle with that battering ram again. What do you keep in it?”

  “Essentials.”

  “I’ll bet,” he said, opening the door for her. He walked around to the passenger side and climbed in. “I know you have an alarm in there. My ears are still ringing. What other essentials?”

  “You want a list? There’s keys, makeup, a billfold, my daily schedule.” She continued reciting as she drove. “A pocket dictionary and a poker deck.”

  He chuckled. “It’s a wonder you don’t have a hernia.”

  “It’s not so bad.”

  “So, do you play poker in your spare time?” he asked.

  “Sometimes. Or solitaire, or gin rummy.”

  “We’ll have to have a game,” he said, giving her a lazy smile laced with challenge. It made her tingle all over.

  She pulled into the Franklin D. Roosevelt Middle School parking lot and glanced around. The school looked like her old middle school. Ugly red brick. Front lawn covered with feeble grass and healthy weeds. American and Texas flags flapping noisily in the wind.

  A couple of teenage boys hung out a third-floor window. One of them leaned out farther and let out a long wolf whistle. Tonya ignored him.

  Kirk chuckled softly. That she didn’t ignore. “Wipe the smirk off your face,” she muttered, eliciting another chuckle. She’d make a note to wear baggy slacks next time she made a school visit

  The office was near the front door. Barely glancing up when they entered, a tired-looking secretary thrust a signin sheet at them. Dutifully, they wrote their names, then Kirk asked for Karen Monroe, the principal.

  When Ms. Monroe walked in, Tonya had to stifle a gasp. Had the breed of principals she’d known died out? She remembered the school administrators from her childhood—gray-haired, middle-aged ladies with bifocals perched on their noses, their bodies concealed in shapeless suits.

  This principal had fiery auburn hair, jade green eyes and a body that belonged on “Baywatch.” If Tonya merited a wolf whistle, this woman must evoke jungle howls.

  Ms. Monroe’s eyes lit up when she saw Kirk. How well did they know each other? Tonya wondered.

  “Hello, Karen,” he said.

  “Kirk, nice to see you,” she said in a low, silky voice. She put out her hand and, according to Tonya’s count, left it in Kirk’s two seconds too long.

  “Karen, this is Tonya Brewster,” he said.

  “Hello, Ms. Monroe.”

  “Dr. Monroe,” Kirk corrected.

  Oh, nice. A sex goddess with a doctorate. Tonya glared at Dr. Monroe’s back as they followed her into her office. As she sat down, Tonya noticed a certificate on the wall indicating that the principal had placed in the top five for her age group in this year’s Tenneco Marathon. Was there no end to her talents?

  And what was her relationship with Kirk? Personal or professional? Eyeing the file cabinet across from the desk, Tonya wondered if he’d ever backed Karen up against it and kissed her senseless, then strolled off without a second glance.

  “So you’re here to see Germain Parker,” Dr. Monroe said. “What’s going on?”

  Briefly, Kirk described the previous afternoon.

  Karen Monroe sighed and made a note in a folder that lay open on her desk. “This is typical conduct for Germain. I’ll put him on the list to see the counselor.”

  Why hadn’t she done that already if she knew about his behavior? Tonya wondered, but she held her tongue.

  “He’s quite capable,” Karen continued as she rummaged through the folder. “His achievement scores last year were above average. Despite what the scores indicate,” Karen went on, “Germain’s grades are poor. He’s failing three subjects. I worry that he’s in danger of dropping out of school.”

  “Are the gangs recruiting him?” Kirk asked.

  “No, even for them his behavior’s too erratic.”

  “He’s an excellent athlete,” Kirk said thoughtfully.

  “I wasn’t aware of that,” Karen said, looking interested.

  “Sports might keep him in school.”

  “Now there’s an idea!” Karen looked at Kirk as if he’d come up with a solution to end the federal deficit. Tonya wanted to gag. “Track season’s beginning. I’ll speak to the coach.” She jotted down another note. “Now, you two need a place to meet with the boy. Come along.” She led them to a small room down the hall. “This is used for testing, but our diagnostician’s out today. I’ll send someone for
Germain. When you finish, I’d like to know what happened.”

  They waited in silence until Germain appeared at the door. When he saw them, his eyes widened. A mixture of embarrassment and apprehension passed over his face.

  “Sit down, Germain,” Kirk said.

  “Whatcha want with me?” he asked, nervousness replaced with his usual defiance.

  “To talk about two problems. The fight on the court and the broken window.”

  “Yeah, I was fighting. So what?” He directed his gaze at the wall. “But I don’t know nothin’ about no window.”

  Kirk shook his head. “When Ms. Brewster went back to her truck—”

  Germain’s head shot around. “It was your truck?”

  “No, I borrowed it from my cousin. I had to have his window replaced.” When Germain’s gaze dropped to his shoes, she added softly, “Why’d you do it?”

  He shuffled his feet. “I dunno. I had a bad day at school and I jus’ got mad. If I’da known it was yours...”

  “Windows cost money,” Kirk said.

  “I don’t have no money.”

  “Maybe you could earn it,” Tonya suggested. In spite of his actions, her heart went out to the boy. He looked so miserable.

  “Ain’t nobody gonna give me a job.”

  “I will,” Tonya said. “You can work at the OK Center in the afternoons until you pay off the window. But I don’t want any fights. Or any other mischief.”

  Beside her, she heard a movement. She turned and glanced at Kirk. His fists were clenched. His eyes were as stormy as the skies outside, and the storm seemed to be directed at her. Why? She didn’t have a clue, but she’d worry about it later. Ignoring Kirk, she met Germain’s eyes.

  He looked away, shuffled his feet Tonya watched him weigh his options, then decide he had none. “Okay,” he mumbled.

  “Good,” she said. “You can start tomorrow.”

  Eyes wary, Germain turned to Kirk.

  “You’ll be off the team for a week,” Kirk told him. “After that, you’re on’trial. If you get to practice on time and keep yourself under control, we’ll talk.”

  “Yes, sir.”

 

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