by J. D. Robb
“It’s weird, is what it is. And I remember your sister. She’s the one who tutored Billy O’Neal for some test that he failed so he couldn’t play football on scout night and missed out on a college athletic scholarship.”
“Oh, give me a break. Billy O’Neal is a moron and that’s why he failed the test and couldn’t get into college.”
“And you…” He pointed an accusing finger at her, which she found unnerving. “You. God. Chicky Davis waited all night for you to show up at his birthday party and you left him hanging.”
“I was hanging, too, over a toilet bowl. I had the flu.”
“That…” He bonked her on the end of her nose with his finger. “…is a lie.”
“No.”
“Yes. I saw you. Peeking through the bushes on the other side of the garage at Chicky’s house that night. Just for a second, but it was you—but I didn’t know that until Monday. I even thought about exposing you…people hiding in bushes at parties are called entertainment, usually.”
“Why didn’t you?”
He shook his head once. “I don’t know.”
“I’ll never forget it. It was the first time a senior asked me out, and it was Chicky Davis, and it was his birthday—a special occasion—that he could have invited a million other girls to…The pressure was immeasurable. It’s no wonder I was nauseous…I threw up in those bushes, you know.” She hesitated, waited several beats. “So, is that all you remember about us?”
“About your sister, yeah. Nerdy chicks weren’t exactly my type.”
“She’s exceptionally bright.”
“Okay.” He looked away briefly, then came back to search her older face with younger eyes. “Your hair was more red back then, a lighter, brighter red. I’m amazed I didn’t recognize you, because you look pretty much the same—different haircut, softer curves but…you still have the greatest legs to ever walk out of Robert F. Kennedy High School.”
Her brows popped upward. “I was your type?”
He gave a short laugh and spoke bluntly. “No. Not even close. But there was a time when I would have made an exception. I wished I was more your type.”
“Mine?” Like, totally awesome. So rad, man. Really bitchin…Her inner teen was flippin’ out.
And he saw it. He smiled, pleased, and an amazing thing happened when he looked away in a surprisingly bashful fashion. She felt herself teetering on the brink of deep like…very deep like.
He cleared his throat. “The Monday after Chicky’s party, I asked around until someone pointed you out. I was curious. I wanted to see what kind of nobody junior would stand up a popular senior, an all-district quarterback…someone with Chicky’s clout.”
“I bet you were surprised.” She didn’t mean to sound self-deprecating.
“I was,” he said, still staring at his boots. “I felt…stunned, for weeks. I couldn’t believe that I didn’t see you first. You were all legs and…” He brought his hands up in front of his chest. They paused there for a fraction of a fraction of a second and went straight to his head. “And you had all that red hair.” He leaned close and looked at her. “What happened to your freckles?”
She shrugged. “My hair got darker and my freckles faded. Even trade.” He hummed and lowered his gaze to their hands, so close on the table between them. “So why didn’t you ever ask me out?”
He scoffed. “Well, for one thing, you stood up Chicky—”
She laughed. “I had the flu!”
“You were tested and proven undependable. You were unpredictable. You were a social disaster waiting to happen to the next guy who asked you out.”
“Maybe I didn’t like football players, what about that? Maybe I didn’t like Chicky.”
He gave her a look. “Everybody liked Chicky.” When he saw she couldn’t argue with that, he went on. “So what do you remember about me? Anything?”
“Yes, but wait just a second. What’s the other thing?” He frowned. “You said, for one thing, I stood up Chicky. What’s the other thing?”
“Oh. You weren’t my type. You were clean and bright and beautiful and innocent and the girls I dated…weren’t, for the most part. We liked to have all kinds of fun, if you know what I mean.”
“I think I do. Yes. I remember some of those girls.” He pretended to hang his head low. “And I knew who you were when I was a sophomore. You spent a lot of time with Max…um…”
“His name was Fred Maxton.”
“Yes. He made a friend of mine pull his gym shorts over his head and wear them around his neck for almost a month.”
He nodded like he was remembering, unhappily. “I grew up next door to Max. He was a year older, but we were pretty good friends—not that I approved of the things he did sometimes. And it’s not a good excuse for the things he did, but when he was a sophomore, he was a big, stocky guy and he got tipped, headfirst, into the cafeteria trash cans. Regularly. Kids are cruel to each other. And it goes around and around and around.”
“Can I ask a personal question?”
“Sure.”
“Earlier you said you didn’t have children. Is that by choice or…?”
“No. Definitely not by choice. I like kids. My brother’s kids are great. Having a few of my own would be…totally amazing. Great. But now…”
She didn’t want to think about now, at the moment.
“Did you come from a broken home?”
He shook his head. “I remember you used to live with your grandmother, right? Or was that someone else?”
“Pim is her name. My parents were killed in a train accident when I was five.”
“She’s still alive?”
“Oh yes.” She laughed softly and affectionately and started to tell him about Pim and the exciting life she led until she had to settle down again to raise the offspring of her only daughter. He listened while she told him of the faraway and exotic places Pim had been to, the magical and powerful people she’d met, and the many lessons and stories she learned to pass on to her and her sister. Everyone knows that being reprimanded or warned or alerted was always taken better and remembered longer if a fairy or a sultan or an evil dragon was involved…at least until middle school.
About halfway through the memories, she realized what they were doing—playing catchup. They were hurriedly cramming as much personal history into what little time they had to feel connected to one another; trying to live a lifetime together in a day.
Automatically, she answered and hung up the phone when it rang.
“You’re going to need to say something soon. Cops don’t play well in the dark.” He gave her a curious look and she smiled. “Okay. They don’t play well in any light.”
“Joe. You need to say something soon, man.” The man with the megaphone sounded frustrated. “Don’t keep us in the dark. Tell us how we can help you. Tell us what you want.”
“See?” They chuckled a little because the cop had used so many of her words. “And I have an idea of what to say…”
Seven
“Did you get that, Ted? I want a development loan for half a million dollars to be repaid to the bank at the going rate. I’ve already filled out all the paperwork. It’s in one of those offices down the hall.”
“Loans and Acquisitions,” Bonnie whispered helpfully, as she had been throughout the entire “demands” process.
“Loans and Acquisitions,” Cal repeated. “That’s where they are, all the forms I filled out. I do not want to steal the money, I just need to borrow it. Got that?” All Bonnie could hear of the negotiator was a buzzing noise from the phone at Cal’s ear. She watched Cal’s face for his reactions to what was being said. It was particularly expressive, his face…or she was particularly excellent at reading it. “I tried it that way, Ted, but they can’t put my past behind me.”
“Finish up. They’re talking to keep you distracted.”
He looked straight into her eyes and nodded; she reached out and took a light hold of the table edge for balance, and waited fo
r the flutter in her chest to subside.
“That’s number one. Number two: I want total amnesty for everything I’ve done in this bank today. My hostage has agreed not to press charges if she walks out of here unharmed, so all you have to do is speak to the bank and the district attorney. And I want it in writing, both of them. I want loan papers and amnesty papers so I can read them.” He listened. “How long?” Bonnie held up four fingers and looked askance at him. He grimaced and shrugged. “Four hours. You have four hours, Ted. Is there anything you don’t understand?” His shoulders slumped in a frustrated fashion and he closed his eyes for several long seconds. “No. I meant is there anything about my demands that you don’t understand?” He covered the mouthpiece with his hand. “I think I’m Ted’s maiden voyage. He keeps talking to somebody else.”
“Like you do?”
He gave a silent laugh and turned back to the negotiator. “I don’t know. I’ll check and see if she wants to talk to you.” He covered the mouthpiece again and raised his brows at her in question; the choice was hers. When she looked hesitant, he tried to help. “They might not be as jumpy and anxious if they know you’re okay.”
She stepped closer and took it from him. The handpiece was warm from his palm and the moist scent of his breath lingered lightly as she pressed it to her face.
“Hello?”
“Ms. Simms, are you all right?”
“Yes. I’m fine, but…I’d appreciate it if you would meet Mr. Sanderson’s requests as soon as possible so we can all go on about our lives.”
“Is he armed, Ms. Simms?”
“Yes, of course. And also, could you tell my secretary, Angela, to contact my family and tell them I’m okay? And to be sure to apologize, profusely, to the Watsons. And to set up another appointment for the earliest possible day next week?”
“Is there a bomb in there, ma’am? Any kind of incendiary device?”
“Did you hear what I said?”
“Yes, ma’am. This conversation is being recorded, ma’am. Any bombs?”
“One moment, please.” She covered the lower half of the phone with the palm of her hand and met Cal’s eyes with hers. “He wants to know if we have a bomb.”
“Me,” he said firmly. “Not we. Don’t forget that.”
“A bomb could hold them at bay awhile longer.”
“It also might cause them to storm us sooner and harder with no thought to the hostage. You know, sacrificing the life of one to save the lives of many? Better say no.”
She did, but Ted was a suspicious soul.
“Is he forcing you to lie, ma’am?” Ted was eager for her to say something horrible about Cal, something incriminating or dangerous. What she wanted to do was extol his virtues…and not just the expression in his eyes or the grace of his big, calloused hands. She liked the way he protected his brother and concerned himself with her comfort and safety. She appreciated the kindness he’d shown her and his decision not to terrorize her by swinging the gun in her face all the time. She wanted to pummel the people who rejected his loan application, refusing him the second chance that everyone deserved. Angry and stressed, Bonnie’s hands trembled with frustration. “Ma’am, are you being coerced?”
“No! He wouldn’t do that! I have to go now.” She held the phone out to Cal who took it and then followed her with his eyes until she came to rest against a wall on the street end of the room.
With the shades drawn, the lights out, and the sun settling slowly on the other side of the building, it was getting dark and hard to see details—like cheeks flushed with emotion and a quivering chin. Then again, sometimes you don’t need any light to see.
“Four hours, Ted. Don’t disappoint me,” he said, keeping it short and to the point. He put the phone in the charger, then turned around to watch Bonnie with no little concern on his face. “Bonnie? Are you okay? Want me to add having Ted filleted to my list of demands?”
Her soft, nearly silent chuckle gave her body a slight shake and she turned around, her eyes brimming with unshed tears she was embarrassed for him to see. She held up one hand to stop him when he started to approach her, and swiped at a stray tear with the other.
“I’m okay. Honest. I’m having a minor meltdown. Not a big thing. Venting a little stress is all. I’m a girl. It happens.”
He kept coming and inside she groaned her dismay. What if she did something stupid and humiliating like…cry on his shoulder? What if she went temporarily insane and kissed him? It was intensely tempting. What if she totally lost it and allowed herself to care about him…care too much about him…maybe love him even? What if she…
So what if she did?
“I’m sorry, Bonnie. Really sorry,” he said, tipping his head to see her face. “This was such a bad idea. I’m sorry I dragged you into it.”
“You were angry and frustrated. That’s a lethal combination.”
“Doesn’t mean I get to take it out on you.” He took off his sport coat and tossed it onto the air-conditioning unit under the window. He peered through the blinds—up, down, all around—then opened them to let in the low glow from the streetlights, car lights and storefronts four stories below. “We need to stay down now, but at least we’ll have a little light. I think they’ve turned off the electricity. The good news is that once it gets too dark to see it should cool off a little.”
“Always looking on the bright side,” she said, teasing him. Stepping out of her shoes, she started to loosen the button at her throat. “Hot air rises, right?”
“Right,” he said, watching her slide down the wall to sit on the floor. “You want my jacket?”
“Thanks, but it’s not that much cooler down here.” She smiled cordially at him and he was about to explain that she could sit on his coat until he caught a glimpse of the glint in her eyes and realized she was teasing him.
“Smart-ass.”
“I am going to need a hand getting up, though. Straight skirts aren’t built for anything but looking good.”
“Well, I gotta tell ya,” he said, lowering himself to his knees and sitting back beside her. “Yours is looking very good.”
“Oh, I bet you say that to all your hostages.” She was unbuttoning the cuffs of her white silk blouse and rolling up the sleeves.
“As a matter of fact, I do. But I don’t mean it unless I’m saying it to you.”
She blushed. She did. He was playing with her and she was flattered…and she was also an idiot. There was no future for her with this man—no off-white wedding, no kids, no rocking chairs on the wide front porch at sunset.
Yet, she more than liked most everything about him. His humor and concern for her. His looks, of course, but also the strength it had taken to turn his life around after being in jail. And to throw it all away on a dream? What was that? Heroic? Reckless? Insane?
“I’m very proud of that, you know.”
“What’s that?” he asked, shifting slightly closer to her, as if the wall was too lumpy where he sat before.
“My weight and being able to fit into the same size clothes I wore twenty years ago.”
He smiled like she’d just told him an interesting body fact—like her foot was the same length as her forearm.
“My weight is one of the many things I am inordinately proud of—one of the many vain and frivolous and self-satisfying things I fill my time with because, aside from my job, there is nothing in my life that is real or true or praise-worthy.”
He was looking confused and a little wary now. “Everybody feels like that sometimes. I bet if you—”
“No. Not me. There are no service clubs in my life or charitable organizations, no music, no art, no white-water rafting, no neurotic obsession with a hobby. All I do is work.” She sighed deeply and leaned her head back against the wall. “I used to be a firm believer that having a husband and children was no way to define yourself. But it has recently occurred to me that if ‘wife and mother’ isn’t a definition then neither is ‘banker.’ Isn’t that right? Or ‘
president’ or ‘dishwasher’ or ‘Indian chief.’ Really, in the end, it’s not what I do with my life, it’s what I do every day that matters.”
After several long seconds of silence crawled by, she opened the eye closest to Cal and had to smile at the thoughtful mystification on his face. She had to like a man who at least tried to understand the deepest, darkest inner workings of a woman’s mind.
“Right?” she asked just to get his reaction.
“Well…maybe…And maybe your blood sugar’s low from not eating all day. Want me to see if they’ll slide a cheeseburger under the door?”
She opened both eyes then and laughed. “No. Thanks.” She hesitated. “Actually, all that was a prelude to me telling you that I…admire you. I mean, this whole thing was a fiasco, of course, and you’ll probably end up in jail—”
“That’s so admirable.”
“But your heart was in the right place. Your intent was good. You didn’t do it solely for yourself: You did it mostly for your brother, so he wouldn’t be punished for something you did…and already paid for. You haven’t hurt anyone. You’ve been kind and sweet.”
“You think I’m sweet?”
“I can’t even remember the last time I did something brave or self-sacrificing.”
“I’m sweet?”
“Everything in my life revolves around me.”
“Sweet?”
“I don’t know when I became so selfish…so empty. Pim taught me better.” She turned her head and looked at him. He was already looking at her. “I don’t normally need this kind of…hammer to fall on my head to get me to recognize that I’ve strayed too far off the path. It’s insane, I know, to thank you for taking me hostage, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to because—”
As slow and smooth as a cake rises, as natural as water flows downstream, Cal leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers. They were soft and warm and jerked her pulses through the roof. He pulled away briefly, but she could still feel his breath on her lips, across her cheek, the heat of him inside her personal space. When he kissed her again his mouth was open and his tongue probed. She obliged, and the blood in her veins caught fire.