Shades of Pink

by 33 authors

  “No. No reason to cause the charity extra expense by having to pick them up early. The whole point is for them to raise money, not cost them more. I’ll wait for them to come collect the birds. Can’t be more than a day or two, right?” Although, since it was Saturday morning, they might not pick up the birds until the start of the following week.

  Mrs. Becker’s lips compressed, making the thin orange line of her lipstick disappear. “Surely you can take them out and store them in your garage.”

  “My garage is full. Plus, how would they get them when they needed them? I could move them to the driveway but, as you’ve informed me, parking on the street isn’t an option.” Not without calling three numbers and leaving six messages. “I could take them out and stack them to the side of the yard, but then I might get mistakenly cited for having debris.”

  Another infraction the Beckers had come knocking on her door about. “Leaving them where they are, and with the sign, lets everyone know what they are and why they are there. Plus, it gives other people the opportunity to participate!”

  Shannon would have smiled at Mrs. Becker’s paling at the thought of more bright pink flocks invading the neighborhood, but she was worried she’d gone too far and the woman might actually be having an attack of some sort.

  “Come, dear.” Mr. Becker took his wife’s arm. “Let’s get you out of the sun and off your feet.”

  “I’m perfectly fine, Lenny.” She yanked her arm away, glaring at Shannon the entire time. “You can be sure I’ll be mentioning this to the association president!”

  “After breakfast. We’re supposed to already be at Frisch’s.” Mr. Becker waited for Mrs. Becker to sweep past him before following in her wake. “No detours. You’ll take too long arguing, and I need to eat with these dang medicines they have me taking.”

  “Do not swear in front of me, Leonard, no matter how hungry you are.”

  Shannon closed the door on the retreating pair and set down her coffee mug. Dashing upstairs to change out of the bird-stained sweats, she decided to take Anya's advice. Past time she faced the man. She'd head over there and give him her side of the flocking story. It would at least break the ice, right? She could see him and gauge how things were. Shannon wasn’t the woman she was two years ago, mourning her mother’s death and dealing with the headache of probate while simultaneously earning her masters at night school. She had to wonder if Bryce was the same man.

  * * *

  Bryce Andojar paced from the island in the kitchen to the hearth in the small family room and back again, waiting for the phone call that would let him finally get on with his life. For two years, he’d collected evidence about a problem with surgical procedures at the private hospital where he worked. He’d put his life on hold, not sure how wide the cover-up spread and unwilling to put anyone else in danger. The state attorney concluded the malfeasance was limited to one location and one doctor. But he was a doctor with powerful friends and backers. Even so, once Bryce isolated himself from everyone but his brothers, who had assured him they could take care of themselves, keeping everyone away until the case was filed seemed safer.

  Maybe he'd gone overboard to protect his friends and family, a hard habit to turn off as the oldest of six with a single, working mother. He'd dropped everything, except being president of the condo association, and only kept that position because he’d been in the first year of a two-year term. When the only person interested in taking his place was Mrs. Becker he'd stayed on a second term. Even with the possible danger, he was the lesser of two evils.

  But now all the evidence was in. The state’s attorney adjunct had obtained a subpoena for records and gathered up the information that would implicate the man in dozens, if not hundreds of cases of malpractice. The investigation began with a casual comment from a woman he’d been dating regarding complications with her mother’s mastectomy. She’d complained that not all the diseased tissue was removed, and her mother suffered a relapse, a relapse she’d not recovered from. This wasn’t the first time he'd heard that same refrain about this particular center and doctor.

  While there was nothing he could do to help this woman’s mother, other women who had undergone a similar botched surgery, leaving too much of possibly compromised tissue, would get the treatment they needed before their cancer returned. And maybe, just maybe, he could get his life back.

  Someone knocked on the door. He ignored the rapping; he wasn’t in the mood for company, especially as it was probably the Beckers. Not that he had any authority to do anything, given the association was just about to elect a new president. For the Beckers, though, old habits died hard, and he expected they’d still knock on his door for a couple of months yet. When they started in on the doorbell, he had no choice. No way he’d be able to talk on his cell phone with the constant racket.

  He swung open the door just as another peal started.

  “I—”

  Shannon McKiplock stood there, in a white tank and jeans, hair haloed by the morning light and looking brighter than the sun in July. He was so not ready to see her. Tomorrow, when his life was back to normal, he’d planned to head over and knock on her door and at least explain why he’d stopped calling. He’d been thrilled to find out she’d moved in to the complex, even with the Beckers’ constantly harassing him and the board about her supposed infractions. They complained about everyone, but they seemed to have a particular dislike for the pretty young woman standing before him.

  “I need to talk to you about the flamingos. And other things.” Her curly blonde hair bobbed as she accented her pronouncement with a nod.

  Flamingos? Other things? He hoped she meant only condo problems. He didn’t have time to go through their past right now.

  “I have time to talk about the flamingos.” Short, he needed to keep this short. Otherwise he’d start acting on all those daydreams of kissing her senseless. Hell, he hadn't had them for a while but there they were, back again in full force.

  “It's a start. May I come in?”

  No. Yes. Aw, hell. “Okay.”

  She walked past him in a breath of warm spring air and a spark of electricity. A slight pause and her quick glance at his face let him know she'd felt it too. He would have been better off insisting their discussion remained on the steps. If she asked questions he couldn’t answer, she’d get pissed and then not listen when he could finally explain. The only good news was there was definitely still chemistry. He left the door open, hoping she’d take the hint and not linger. “We need to keep this short. I’m expecting an important phone call.”

  “At nine a.m. on a Saturday? Don’t you still do consulting for hospitals?” she asked as she looked around at the boxes piled in the living room. “Are you moving?”

  “I still work for them and no, I’m not moving.” The boxes contained detailed weekly printouts from his private cloud storage. Documentation of his activities and what he’d learned. He’d been keeping them in a secure location and pulled them out to hand over too, only to find out they weren’t needed. He probably could get rid of the jump drives in his safe deposit box, as well. Okay, he admitted to himself, he'd gone overboard. But he could not bear the thought the guy might get away due to supporting information so he'd collected everything he'd thought was relevant. “You were going to tell me about the flamingos?”

  “Right. The local 4-H is raising money by putting flamingos on front yards for money. Here.” She pulled out her phone, tapped the screen a couple of times then held it up in front of his face. “These are the ones in my yard and the sign about what they are.”

  She pulled it back and said “huh” as she frowned at the image. From the brief glimpse he got, someone had filled the miniscule yard at her townhouse with bright pink lawn decorations.

  “You know, they don’t usually put up signs saying what they are. I bet Anya did that to deflate the Beckers’ sails.” She held up the phone again, and this time Bryce could see the sign in front of the flock. Her nearness and scent was far
more distracting. She stepped next to him and looked at the image with him.

  “And the problem is...?” As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized it was a stupid question. Shannon merely arched her brow at him. “I assume it’s the Beckers. Look, the only thing I can do is suggest you read the association’s bylaws, all of them, and bring it up at the next meeting if there’s still a problem.”

  He had copies of the most recent version on his dining room table, ready for the annual meeting the next day, in case anyone wanted to review them before the proposed changes. Thank the powers that be his term was almost over and someone besides Mrs. Becker had stepped up to be president. Pulling a set from the stack, he handed it to her.

  “But isn’t there a fine or something? I can’t wait and find out I’ve been assessed a fine, I need to stop it before that happens.” Shannon took the papers and tucked them under her arm before tapping the image closed. She didn't meet his eyes as she put her phone in her purse.

  Was she really that close to the edge? Many people were still coming out of the economic downturn, but he’d had the impression she’d remained afloat. Heck, she’d even managed to buy a unit in the complex, albeit a short sale, and she’d kept up with her association fees as far as he knew.

  “Shannon.” Ah, he shouldn’t have said her name. Her brown eyes held his, and he remembered how fascinated he’d been by the green flecks in them. Her lips were close enough he could lean down and kiss her.

  She must have seen something in his face because she stepped back. “Why didn’t you call?”

  Not yet. He couldn’t tell her yet. Not until he got the phone call confirming they’d legally gathered the evidence and the case was secure. He wasn't being logical, but he'd held on to the plan to approach her afterwards for so long he couldn't give it up now.

  “Why didn’t you call me?” The fact she’d never even tried to reach out to him had stung.

  “Some things came up with my mother’s estate. I was out in Tucson for a while trying to keep on top of them and get my master's thesis done too. Time slipped past me.”

  “Besides,” she continued, fiddling with the strap of her purse before determinedly setting her hand at her side, “I’d let us get in the bad habit of my waiting for you to call instead of me calling you.”

  “And you don’t do that anymore?” Damn it, he usually did better than ask needy questions. But Shannon had always been the one thing he truly regretted about his decision to cut ties with his friends. And, yeah, he admitted, he was a bit jealous. He'd already swore he'd never again let himself get so caught up with making sure someone was brought to justice he'd abandon his friends and family. Then again, the chances he'd run into another situation where a doctor was flagrantly disregarding protocol were very slim. At least that's what he hoped.

  Shannon just looked at him. “You aren’t going to answer my question, are you?”

  “Knock, knock. Bryce? You home? I’ve got some great news!” Lyndsay Woods stuck her head around the open door, her long black hair dangling in the air and a grin on her face. He couldn’t recall a time he’d seen the DA’s adjunct smile.

  “You do?” he asked, vaguely aware of Shannon moving away.

  “Your two years of persistence paid off!”

  Relief and joy surged through him. They’d done it, gotten the database information and records to build the case.

  “Yes!” He pumped his fist and found himself enveloped in a quick hug before Lyndsay stepped back and gripped his arms.

  “I couldn’t have done it without you.” The huge grin on her face turned her almond-shaped eyes into cheery half-moons.

  This time, he pulled her in for a brief embrace. “I can’t believe we did it!”

  He could finally feel safe to get on with his life. Lyndsay had told him a dozen times there was no reason to act like he was about to go into Wit Sec. Yes, there were lives and a substantial amount of money involved, but the actions seemed to be based more on gross negligence than criminal intent. Now he'd take her advice and go back to being normal, whatever that turned out to be.

  “Not quite done.” Lyndsay straightened her jacket, putting on what he called her work face, expression inscrutable and no hint of a smile. “There’s still a lot of information we need to sift through and experts we’ll need to call in to look everything over, but it’s looking really good. Your girlfriend should be proud!” Lyndsay’s voice trailed off as she realized Shannon was not in the room anymore.

  Shannon! No, he wasn’t going to let her slide through his fingers this time.

  “Shannon!” He raced out the door. If she’d walked over, he should be able to catch up with her. There she was, three driveways down ignoring the sidewalk and striding along the grass berm in a way that would surely bring the Beckers to his door if they saw it.

  He needn’t have worried. She turned around and glared at him.

  “Two years? Congratulations. Nice to know you can be persistent with some women.” She turned and stalked a couple of steps away before facing him again, shaking the bylaws in his face as she emphasized her points. “And as for the flamingos, I’m going to leave them up for as long as I like. It’s for charity. Helping others. Not that I expect you to know about that.”

  His face flushed, and anger rushed through him. He didn’t know about helping others? It was all he could do to keep his voice low and not shout at her. He grabbed her wrist, unwilling to chance her storming off before he had his say. “I’ve just spent the last two years of my life on tenterhooks, gathering information on a massive malpractice cover-up by a surgeon and his office, worried any day he’d find out and get rid of the damning evidence. Hundreds of women have been affected by his misdeeds. Hundreds. Don’t tell me I don’t know about helping others.”

  He flung away her arm. “At least I’m out there doing things to help others, not taking credit for another’s actions. Because that’s the way that flocking thing works, right? Someone else paid to have the birds put on your lawn. You’re just the bystander, reaping the recognition.”

  “Don’t you ever grab me again! You touch me like that once more, and I’ll call the cops on you so fast it’ll make your head spin.” She glanced over his shoulder and scowled.

  “Don’t worry, I don’t have any plans to touch you again, ever.” Which was a lie, but he couldn’t take back the words now. He watched her walk away, back stiff, shoulders tense.

  “Didn’t handle that well, did you, sport?” Lyndsay came to stand next to him.

  “No, not at all.”

  * * *

  Stupid. Stupid of her to think he was still interested and hadn't moved on. Seeing his beautiful Asian girlfriend had surely slammed the door on any thoughts Shannon had of rekindling romance with Bryce. Okay, if what he said about gathering evidence for a malpractice suit was true, he had a good reason why he had stopped calling. She could so see him digging out the information. On one of their early dates he'd told her when he was very young he'd wanted to be Batman, because he put the bad guys in jail. His smile had been awkward as he told her. Shannon had grinned back and asked if, in high school, he wanted to be Atticus Finch. His laughing acknowledgement told her she'd pegged him right.

  Bryce's point about her taking credit for something she didn't do stung. Didn't matter that she volunteered full time, he'd been right that she wasn't the one who'd been responsible for the flamingos in the first place.

  Shannon set down the association bylaws and powered up her computer to take notes. Avoiding the urge to slam the laptop down, she set it on her dining room table and pulled out her phone. The call to Anya went straight to voicemail.

  “Hey you, get back to me. I want to flock someone in the neighborhood. Can you tell me how much it’d cost to do the same thing you did here? Thanks.” Good. When Anya called back, she’d put the pink plastic birds on Bryce’s lawn—and maybe the Beckers. It’d be worth the dip into her meager savings. To see the shocked expressions on their faces would be worth
eating nothing but ramen noodles for a month.

  And while she was at it, she put Bryce's cell number, which was right there on the cover page for the annual meeting, in her phone and marked it as a blocked number. No more worries on that front.

  Before Anya called back, she needed to read through the documents and see what rules she might be in violation of, if any, and how she might argue her way out of any possible fines.

  An hour and a half later, Shannon was livid.

  Almost nothing the Beckers had complained about was in the association’s rules and regulations. Except the garbage, they’d been right on that one.

  Nothing.

  The slip and slide? There was a regulation against permanent play structures, not something temporary. The music for her mother’s memorial? Loud music was prohibited after ten p.m. weekdays, eleven on weekends. They’d come over at eight-thirty and told her to turn it off.

  Three months of second-guessing every decision all because Mrs. Becker gave her false information regarding the rules. Thank goodness Bryce had suggested she actually read through the bylaws. The appendices at the end held the most relevant information. The very last one specifically dealt with temporary lawn decorations that served as fundraisers for local charities and organizations. They were allowed for forty-eight hours, seventy-two if the placement occurred on a Friday night.

  She probably owed Bryce an apology. Of course, he owed her one, too. And there was no way she’d head over now, not with his new girlfriend showing up. Although, come to think of it, they were a bit awkward around each other for having dated for two years. Probably because he'd been so wrapped up in creating his case.

  Better to not dwell on that fiasco. Instead, now that she knew the rules and regulations, she might be able to come up with something… big. To thank Bryce. And the Beckers. If they hadn’t pushed her with their misinformation, she would have never taken the time to discover the truth. Tomorrow, she’d host a party without breaking any of the rules. It was almost noon; she had twenty-four hours to make this happen. And a very limited budget, given she was already eyeing ramen all month. Good thing most of what she wanted to do was cheap.