Trouble With Tonya

by Lorna Michaels

  “Germain! Where you been?” the woman shouted.

  “I tol’ you, I been goin’ to the OK Center after school.”

  . She peered at the truck. “What you doin’ in that pickup?”

  “Miss Tonya from the center, she drove me home.”

  His mother peered suspiciously at Tonya and scowled. “Yeah? Well, you get on in and do your homework right now, hear?”

  Germain scuttled across the yard and into the house.

  This was her chance, Tonya decided, and opened her door. “Mrs. Parker,” she called.

  The woman paused on her way to the door. “What you want?”

  “I wanted to talk to you about Germain,” Tonya said, coming up and extending her hand.

  Mrs. Parker ignored the hand. “He in some kind of trouble?”

  “No.” Tonya decided to omit any mention of the broken window. “I know he has trouble at school sometimes—”

  His mother sniffed. “Sometimes! You mean all the time.”

  “The school wants to schedule some testing. They think they can find a way to help him. If you’ll just fill out these papers—”

  “What for? Ain’t no help for Germain. That boy’s not worth spit.”

  Tonya gasped. How could a mother say that about her child? With an effort, she controlled her temper. “I think he’s got the potential to do better, Mrs. Parker, but we all need to work together. The papers—”

  “Don’t have time for no papers.”

  “Please.” Tonya grasped the woman’s arm. “Don’t you see? They can help so...so he won’t be so much trouble to you.”

  Apparently that got Mrs. Parker thinking. She stared dubiously at Tonya, then said, “Give ’em here.” She snatched the handful of papers and the pen Tonya hurriedly extracted from her purse. “I ain’t got no faith in this school testing stuff,” she muttered. But she sat on the porch steps and filled out the forms, then thrust them back into Tonya’s hand. “Don’t bother me no more,” she said, and went inside, slamming the door.

  Success! Tonya tucked the papers under her arm. And I’ll bother you again if I have to, Mrs. Parker. As much as it takes.

  “DARN IT, SAM.” Two mornings later Tonya leaned an elbow on her desk and stared morosely through the window of her office as she spoke into the telephone. “Kirk Butler is the most exasperating man I’ve ever met”

  “So blow him off,” her cousin said.

  “Easy for you to say,” Tonya muttered, drawing a circle on her notepad. “You’re not in love with him.”

  “And you are?”

  “Yeah, I am.”

  Sam hesitated a moment, then said, “You’ve thought you were in love before.”

  “But never like this.” She made dots for eyes and a nose and added a sad mouth inside the circle. “He’s wrong for me, I know it, but—”

  “Why’s he wrong?”

  “I could give you a list.”

  “Okay, start with reason number one.”

  “Well...” Pinned down, she found it hard to think of reasons. “He’s unpredictable,” she decided. “I never know what to expect from him.”

  “You’ve been known to be unpredictable,” Sam pointed out. “Just a minute,” she said. “Wade wants to tell me something. Yes, honey.” She waited a moment, then asked, “When will you be back?” Another moment.

  This time Tonya heard a soft sigh of pleasure and imagined, with envy, Wade leaning over to kiss Sam goodbye. “Shall I let you go?” she asked.

  “No, we’ll finish later.” Sam’s voice held a laugh. “Now, back to Kirk. Why don’t you bring him to Granddad’s birthday party Saturday evening? I’ll look him over and give you my opinion.”

  “Good idea. If I can corner him long enough to ask.”

  “Go work on it,” Sam suggested, and they hung up.

  Should she invite him? Tonya wondered. She’d promised herself she’d wait for him to make the first move. But he hadn’t. With a sigh, she ordered herself to get back to work. She needed to tell Ramon she’d spoken with her friend at the Express. She got up and was halfway across her office when Kirk walked in.

  A glad smile sprang to her lips but she controlled it. Damned if she’d let him know how pleased she was to see him. Why had she bothered missing him, anyway?

  “Hello, Kirk,” she said, keeping her voice bland. “Did you want something?”

  “Yeah.” He reached behind him and shut the door. “You.”

  Before she could speak, he caught her in his arms and kissed her. Pressed against him, heart pounding, she remembered why she’d missed him. No one else had ever brought such fire, such excitement with just a touch of his lips.

  He drew back and looked at her. His eyes were dark, fierce. “I tried to stay away. Damn it, I couldn’t.”

  “I didn’t want you to.” One hand fisted in his hair, the other wrapped around his neck. “Kiss me again.”

  His kiss tasted of urgency, of desperation. He pressed her tightly against his body while his hands roamed over her, reawakening every nerve ending.

  “All week I’ve wanted to kiss you,” he muttered against her mouth, “to touch you.” His hands molded her breasts, traveled along her thighs, set her on fire. She struggled with his buttons, dragged his shirt apart to expose his chest and kissed him with the same wild desperation.

  He lifted her, fitting her closer against him. She wrapped her legs around him. Felt him set her on the desk. Heard a thud as her dictionary, which had been open in front of her, slid off and landed on the floor. Her hand fell to the side, and pens and paper clips flew in all directions.

  “I want you. Now.”

  “Yes.” The word trembled through her lips. She squirmed out of her jeans and panties as he fumbled in his pocket for protection. Fevered excitement tore through her. He shoved his jeans and briefs down but didn’t bother to pull them off. He ripped the packet open. Then he was over her, his weight pressing her down against the cool wood of the desk. Papers scattered, her In tray crashed to the floor. She didn’t care, couldn’t have cared if the entire staff showed up at her door. All that mattered was Kirk and what was happening between them.

  Hot sweaty bodies. His flesh against hers. His mouth. His eyes black and intent. Heavy, panting breaths as if they were running a marathon. His cry muffled against her shoulder as he reached his climax. Then her own orgasm, blinding in its intensity.

  She couldn’t stop trembling. Kirk raised himself off her, helped her sit up. She took a steadying breath and smiled. “Hello, did you have an appointment?”

  He laughed and cupped her cheek to bring her forward for a kiss, a gentle one this time. “I had a fantasy of doing that, but on my desk.”

  “I don’t think my heart or my back could take another round.”

  The telephone rang.

  Tonya reached for it, found it teetering on the corner of the desk and hoped her voice was halfway normal. “Hello.”

  “McGuire’s here,” Ramon said.

  “Wh-who?”

  “From the school district. I’ll be touring him around. Have you seen Kirk?”

  “Y-yes.” She suppressed a giggle as she glanced at the half-naked man who was struggling to pull up his jeans. More of him than you could imagine. “He’s right here. I’ll fill him in.” She held out the phone for Kirk to replace. “Ramon’s bringing the superintendent around. Oh, Lord.” She looked at the office, at herself. “We’ve got to clean up.”

  She tugged her clothes on, dropped to her knees and swept pens and papers into an untidy pile. A bottle of toner for her printer had broken in its fall and a puddle of black liquid stained the floor. “Paper towels,” she said to Kirk. “Hurry.”

  When he returned, she was scrambling around the floor, picking things up, dropping them and picking them up again. Kirk joined her. Together, they managed to deal with the mess on the floor and put her desk into some kind of order.

  “You have paper clips in your hair,” Kirk said.

  She combed her
fingers through her hair, sending half a dozen clips flying in all directions. How soon would Ramon and McGuire show up?

  “Oh, wait! There’s lipstick on your cheek.” She grabbed a paper towel and scrubbed at Kirk’s face.

  “Ow! Leave me some skin.”

  She cleaned the last trace of lipstick off and tossed the towel in the trash, then dropped into her chair. Kirk took the chair across from her seconds before Ramon knocked at the door. He introduced McGuire. Tonya gave him her most dignified smile and put out a hand.

  It was streaked black from the toner, and Kirk had a matching spot on his sleeve. Oh, no, she thought with horror as she jerked her hand back and muttered something about cleaning up a spill. Then the humor of the situation struck her and a laugh bubbled up. With difficulty, she suppressed it.

  McGuire chatted with them for a few minutes, then Ramon ushered him out. Ramon glanced back over his shoulder as he left.

  After the door closed, Tonya asked, “Think he guesses what happened here?”

  “If he does, he’s jealous as hell,” Kirk said.

  “What would McGuire think if he knew?” The laughter she’d stifled before spilled over. She giggled until tears ran down her cheeks. Kirk’s deep chuckle echoed hers.

  Finally he stood. “I’d better go before...” His hand on the doorknob, he turned. “Spend the evening with me.” His grin flashed. “My bed’s softer than your desk.”

  “It’s a deal, if you’ll come with me to my grandfather’s on Saturday. Six o’clock. It’s his birthday.”

  A wary look replaced his smile. “You want me to go to your grandfather’s birthday party?”

  “Sure. He always tells us to bring friends. You’ll enjoy yourself. And you’ll get to meet Sam.”

  “Is it...formal?”

  Tonya laughed. “Of course not. Granddad hates formal. It’s casual.”

  His mouth hardened. “What’s casual in your family?”

  “Top hat, white tie and tails,” she snapped. “What do you think casual is? It’s khakis and a sport shirt.”

  Relaxing visibly, he smiled. “It’s a deal. I’ll pick you up.”

  Her eyes lit up. “On your bike?” What a splash they’d make, roaring up on the Harley.

  “I have a car, too.”

  “Oh,” she said, disappointed. “I guess we’ll make do.”

  He came around the desk and gave her a quick, hard kiss. “Yeah, we will. See you tonight.”

  “Okay. By the way,” she added in a sultry, Mae West voice, “anytime you want to play rough again, big boy, you just let me know.”

  11

  EVEN DRESSED CASUALLY, Tonya stood out from the crowd, Kirk thought as she settled beside him in the car on Saturday. She wore a turquoise split skirt and a hot pink, low-necked blouse. Half a dozen gold bracelets jangled on her arm, and double gold hoops gleamed at her ears.

  He’d planned to pick her up at five-thirty, but she’d called in a panic at four, saying she’d forgotten to buy a gift for her grandfather. Now they sped toward the Galleria. “I’ll just duck in and pick something up,” she said.

  “What?”

  She shrugged. “I’ll think of something. Did I tell you I’ve made arrangements for Germain to be tested?”

  “No,” he said, surprised. “Why?”

  “Maybe he has some kind of learning problem.”

  “I doubt it,” he said. “His problems are behavioral, pure and simple. And what can testing show? If they get him on a good day, he’ll look fine. On a day when he’s off the wall, the results will be different.”

  “I would hope a good diagnostician could see beyond that,” Tonya said. “You have a one-sided view of Germain. I wish you’d try to see him differently.”

  “Your view is pretty biased, too. It’s through rose-colored glasses.”

  “No, it’s not.” Tonya twisted her fingers in her lap. “I see him through my own experience. I was just like him at his age—mixed-up, disorganized. My self-esteem was so low it was nonexistent.”

  “Yours?” He was amazed that the woman beside him had ever suffered from a lack of self-confidence.

  “Yes, I was failing in school. Not because I couldn’t do the work, but because I didn’t I never got home with my assignments—I always lost them on the way. My parents were at the end of their ropes.”

  “How’d you get over it?”

  “I didn’t I just got better, or to hear my family tell it, less inadequate.”

  He heard an old despair in her voice and reached for her hand. “Hey, you look pretty good to me.”

  “Thanks.”

  “But you can’t judge Germain by your standards. You don’t have a clue what that kid’s life is like.”

  “Don’t I? I had the pleasure of meeting his mother. I know you disagree with me, Kirk, but I feel a bond with Germain, just like you do with Toby Carson, and I’m going to do everything I can to help him succeed.”

  “I admire you for that,” he told her sincerely, “but don’t be disappointed if—”

  “Don’t say it,” she warned. “I don’t want to fail.”

  “God knows I don’t want you to, either. Just like I don’t want to fail with Toby. I’ve talked to your friend Rusty about acting as his mentor.”

  “That’s wonderful. Rusty’s a great guy, very patient.” She grinned. “He has to be. He puts up with me.”

  They pulled into the Galleria parking garage, and Tonya jumped out and rushed into the busy mall. “Let’s try the Texas Store first” She dashed through the store, scanning the displays, muttering to herself. “Not here.” She headed for Macy’s. “Did I tell you I talked with Betsy at Whodunit this morning?” she asked as she maneuvered through the mall, dodging other shoppers. “She wants me to set up a mystery weekend in El Paso. In return she’ll sponsor the fund-raiser for the center. In fact, she was thrilled when I told her I could get Paul Warden to donate some signed copies of his books.”

  “Paul Warden, the author of the Nick Petrelli series? How can you get him? No one knows who he really is.”

  “I do.”

  Kirk waited but she said nothing. “Who is he?”

  “Ah, that’s a secret known only to a select few. Maybe I’ll tell you...someday.” She charged down the mall. “So what do you think about the fund-raiser? Great, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t know. I—”

  “Oh, look. Radio Shack. Let’s go in.” She dragged him inside, picked up a futuristic telephone, then an electronic organizer, and discarded them both. “Uh-uh.” She hurried on to Macy’s and darted inside. Pausing in the men’s department, she cocked her head. “Suspenders. Or do they call them braces now? You should get some, Kirk. You’d look great.” She lowered her voice. “With trousers or without.”

  Chuckling, he followed her as she made a foray through the department store. She dashed from counter to counter, shaking her head. Kirk felt dizzy. If the rest of Tonya’s family were like her, he’d need motion sickness pills to get through an evening with them.

  At last she settled on a book at Brentano’s, explaining that her grandfather was a Texas history buff. She had the book wrapped, stopped to pick up a birthday card, then linked her arm with Kirk’s and started back for the garage, chattering all the way to the car. The way she leapt from one topic to another, he could hardly keep up.

  “Whew,” he muttered when he got behind the wheel, “I’m exhausted. Do you do this often?”

  “Constantly.” She glanced at her watch. “We’re late,” she said and shrugged. “They’d faint if I showed up on time.”

  “Maybe you’re more like Germain than I thought,” he said, raising a brow.

  “I am.” Her voice took on a British accent. “Now, the rest of my family is veddy punctual. All my cousins are workaholics and geniuses, too, which has made them fabulously successful.”

  “They sound dull.”

  “Some of them are. Personally, I think all work and no play makes for great fortunes and tired
blood.”

  Kirk made as good time as he could driving to Tonya’s grandparents’ home, but they were indeed late. Even so, when he turned into the grounds, he couldn’t help but slow the car. Gardens ablaze with spring flowers surrounded the white antebellum mansion, and magnificent moss-laden oak trees shaded it He noticed a pool, a greenhouse and another small structure that Tonya explained was a guest house. Good Lord, a guest house!

  “We’ll save the guest house for another visit,” Tonya said and led him to the door.

  It was answered by a butler—a butler, for God’s sake—who showed them into a living room furnished in antiques and dominated by a marble fireplace. Kirk thought of the song, “If My Friends Could See Me Now.” Yeah, if his childhood friends could imagine him in a place like this, they’d picture him climbing in a second-story window and snitching the family jewels. Nervously, he straightened his shirt. He didn’t belong here. Damned if he’d let them know how he felt, though. He squared his shoulders and surveyed the room.

  Beside the massive fireplace stood a gray-haired man who looked as if he might have been an NFL linebacker in his younger days. As they approached him, Kirk saw that he wasn’t as large as he appeared. His bearing, not his size, was striking.

  Tonya waltzed up to him and kissed his cheek. “Hello, birthday boy. Where’s your party hat?”

  His laugh was deep, rumbling. “Must’ve forgotten it.”

  “I brought you one.” She reached in her bag and pulled out a cardboard crown with the logo of a fast-food restaurant and set it on his head at a rakish angle. Then she turned and tugged Kirk forward. “Granddad, this is Kirk Butler.”

  “Program director of Our Kids Center,” Clint Brewster said, not at all discomfited by the ridiculous headgear. “Good to meet you. Tonya’s been telling me what a good job you’re doing over there. Tonya, fix Kirk a drink and introduce him around.”

  They headed first toward a handsome middle-aged couple standing with an older woman. “My parents and grandmother,” Tonya said. “Mother and Dad are in from Moscow, where they’ve been teaching the Russians to love chili.”