A Winning Season

by Rochelle Alers

  Sutton gave Harper a long glance. “I was talking to your sister and told her I wouldn’t call the sheriff’s office if you agree to do whatever I propose. Think of it as a plea bargain. Do you understand what I’m saying, Harper?”

  Harper shook his head like a bobblehead doll before staring down at the floor. “Yes, sir.”

  “What I am going to propose will be in effect for the next three months,” Sutton told Harper. “Do you think you will be able to do something for three months without giving up?”

  Harper’s head popped up and he gave Sutton a direct stare. “Do I have a choice?” There was a trace of bravado in his query.

  Sutton’s expression hardened, and he gave Harper a death stare and she wanted to warn her brother that this wasn’t the time to challenge a man whose car he’d attempted to break into and possibly take on a joyride, which translated to car theft.

  “Yes, Harper, you have a choice,” she spat out angrily. “Now get rid of the attitude.” Her reprimand appeared to have an effect because Harper’s face and body crumbled like a deflated balloon.

  “I’m sorry about that,” he whispered. “I’m ready to listen, Mr. Reed.”

  Sutton leaned forward. “How old are you, Harper?”

  “Sixteen.”

  “You’re sixteen and engaging in underage drinking.”

  Harper lowered his eyes. “I’m not drinking now. And it was only beer.”

  “Where did you get the beer?”

  “I have a friend in Mineral Springs, and I give his older brother money to buy beer for us.” He paused. “I can’t get it here because everyone knows me.”

  “Does your friend’s brother have a name?” Sutton questioned.

  The natural color drained from Harper’s face, leaving it a sallow yellowish-brown. “Why do you want to know?”

  Sutton flashed a wry smile. “Perhaps the law over in the Springs should know that an adult is buying beer for underage kids.”

  “You don’t have to say anything, Mr. Reed, because I’m not drinking anymore.”

  “Do you smoke?”

  “Smoke what?”

  “Cigarettes or weed, Harper.”

  “Not really.”

  Zoey let out a groan. Now she knew why Sutton wanted her to stay during his questioning. It was obvious he could get Harper to reveal things to him when he could possibly lie to her. Not only was her brother drinking but he was also smoking weed. She gave him an allowance so he would have some money in his pocket, not give it to an adult to buy alcohol for a teenager. How had she failed so miserably with Harper when she’d given him the same rules as she had with Kyle?

  Crossing his arms over his chest and stretching out long legs, Sutton slumped lower on the love seat. “What do you mean not really?”

  “I smoked once, and my heart was beating so fast that I thought it was going to explode. It was the first and last time I smoked weed.”

  “That’s because it was probably laced with PCP or something else that could’ve possibly killed you,” Sutton explained. “What about pills, meth, coke?”

  “No!”

  “That’s good because you’re going to need to be in good shape if you have to get up at dawn to work out with me.”

  “Work out how?”

  “I run, Harper. We will begin with a slow jog until you build up enough stamina to put in a couple of miles. I’m sure you’ll be able to do it because Zoey told me you passed your last physical with flying colors.”

  “I don’t like running.”

  “And I don’t like you breaking into my car,” Sutton retorted. “I suggest you get plenty of sleep because I expect to see you standing outside my house at five o’clock every morning—rain or shine.”

  “I don’t have workout clothes,” Harper mumbled under his breath.

  “Oh, that’s not a problem,” Sutton drawled, grinning. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning at ten and we’ll go to Powell’s. I’ll buy you whatever you’ll need to jog with me every morning for the next three months.”

  “I can’t believe you want me to jog on the days I have to go to school.”

  “Believe it, Harper, because your sister has given me her approval. I suggest you get plenty of sleep because you’re going to need to stay alert if you are going to compete with me.”

  Harper rose and walked out of the living room and stomped up the staircase to the second story. Zoey also stood. “I suppose you didn’t give him much of a choice. My brother would prefer hanging out and staying up late playing video games and then wasting away the afternoon watching television.”

  Sutton approached her, smiling. “He’ll get over it. Once he begins running, he’ll change his attitude. There’s something about it that gives you a high you can’t get from any drug.”

  Zoey tilted her chin, returning his smile. “How can I thank you for getting him to open up about things he probably would’ve lied to me about. I knew he was drinking because I could smell the beer on his breath, but I had no idea he’d smoked weed.”

  Sutton rested his hands on her shoulders. “You’re lucky he had a bad reaction to it. Just between you and me, once he shows me he’s changed, I’m going to eventually let him drive the Aston Martin.”

  “You can’t!” She did not want to believe Sutton was going to let a teenager drive his six-figure sports car.

  He smiled. “Yes, I can. We’ll take it out on the back roads where he can get used to the engine. And don’t worry. I’ll make certain to bring him back safe and sound.”

  Her eyelids fluttered. “You promise?”

  He dropped his hands. “Yes, I promise.”

  Zoey studied his handsome face as if committing it to memory. Not only did he look good, but he also smelled wonderful. Despite the seriousness of her situation, it had been much too long since she’d found herself attracted to a man because there had been no room in her busy life to even fantasize about one. But this man lived next door and there was no way she could avoid him, because his connection with her brother for the next three months was what Harper needed at this time in his life: a positive male role model.

  “Good night and thank you again, Sutton.”

  A beat passed. “Good night, Zoey.”

  She waited for him to leave and then closed and locked the door behind him. Breathing out an audible sigh, she turned off the floor lamp and lowered the settings on the ones on the tables and went upstairs. The door to Harper’s bedroom was open. He was sitting on the side of the bed, his head in his hands. Zoey hoped he was thinking about how close he’d come to ruining his life if Sutton had called the sheriff to report him for breaking into his car.

  She walked down the hallway to her bedroom and closed the door. Before the doorbell rang, she’d planned to read until it was time for her to retire for bed, but the interruption wouldn’t permit her to concentrate. Reaching for the remote, Zoey tuned the television to the Hallmark Channel. Even though she’d viewed the romantic movie before, it was what she needed to relax because she’d had enough excitement for one day.

  She managed to watch the entire movie without falling asleep, and when it ended, she went into the en suite bath to wash her face and brush her teeth. After slipping into a nightgown, she checked her cell phone to make certain she hadn’t set the alarm because she would not have a client for the next two weeks. Mrs. Chambers’s son and daughter-in-law had driven down midweek to take her to a skilled residential nursing facility in Washington, DC.

  Zoey had made it a practice to take vacation at the same time every year to shop for school supplies and go through her brothers’ closets to inventory what they could still wear and what to donate to the local church’s outreach.

  After adjusting the pillows cradling her shoulders, Zoey turned off the lamp on the bedside table and closed her eyes. She lay in the darkened room, her mind filled with the
image of Sutton’s grip on her brother’s neck, unaware why he’d sought to use physical force to bring him home. Her initial outrage had turned to embarrassment and shame once he revealed Harper’s attempt to break into his car. And she wondered if Harper realized he’d dodged a bullet because if he’d been caught breaking into anyone else’s vehicle he would not be sleeping in his own bed but on a cot in a jail cell.

  The events of the day were forgotten when Zoey finally succumbed to the comforting embrace of Morpheus, where when she awoke it was always with an optimism that she was getting closer to her ultimate goal of attending nursing school.

  Chapter Four

  Sutton waited for Harper to fasten his seat belt before shifting into gear and backing the Jeep Wrangler out of the driveway. When he’d walked out of the house at exactly ten, he’d found the teenager waiting for him. It was a positive sign that the young man was serious about adhering to the terms of their agreement.

  “I like your Jeep, Mr. Reed.”

  Sutton gave him a sidelong glance. “Thank you.” He paused. “Do you like cars?”

  Shifting slightly on his seat, Harper smiled. “Yes. Once I got my license, I asked Zoey if I could drive her van when she’s not using it.”

  “What did she say?”

  “No, because she needs it to get to work, and if I got into an accident, she would be assed-out.”

  Sutton’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “Did she actually say assed-out?”

  “Not really. My sister doesn’t like it when I curse, but that’s because she’s old-school about a lot of things. She’s not even thirty but she acts like an old fart.”

  Struggling to tamp down his rising temper, Sutton stared out the windshield. “If your sister, whom you refer to as an old fart, hadn’t gone along with our deal, then you would’ve been handcuffed and shackled while riding in the back of a police van on your way to the court this morning. I’m certain a judge would probably believe putting you in jail is what you’ll need to get rid of your feigned badass attitude. And, I don’t want you cussing around me.” He gave him a quick glance. “I’m running this show, not you, so it’s either my way or the highway straight to the county jail. What’s it going to be, Harper? I can’t hear you,” he goaded, when he encountered silence.

  “It’s your way, Mr. Reed.”

  Sutton forced a smile. He did not want to bully the boy but knew instinctively that Harper Allen was going to be challenging. One year he’d made a commitment to an organization to mentor at-risk youth and he’d been assigned to mentor several boys living in a Georgia group home. Most were in awe of his celebrity status but there was one training to become an amateur boxer who wouldn’t stop harassing him until Sutton put on a pair of boxing gloves and got into the ring with him.

  He’d managed to sidestep his opponent’s first punch before, with a sweeping motion with his foot, he took him off balance, and he went down within seconds. Not only was he bigger and stronger and had incredible eye-hand control, but Sutton had no intention of hitting the boy but rather embarrassing him. It worked, and in the six weeks that ensued he’d formed a bond with all five boys that continued even after they’d aged out. They continued to keep in touch with him on Facebook and Twitter, updating him on what was going on in their lives. Two had graduated school and enrolled in college; the wannabe boxer who’d had an illustrious amateur career had turned pro; one had enrolled in the military while the remaining one fell through the cracks and was in prison serving a life sentence without the possibility of parole for first-degree murder.

  Despite four of the five beating the odds to become productive citizens, it was the last one who grieved Sutton, and although he did not blame himself for the young man’s choosing to become a criminal, he was troubled by the fact that there was no hope of him ever venturing beyond the walls of a maximum security prison.

  “Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, I believe we’re going to get along,” he said to Harper. “Are you thinking about joining a sports team when you go back to school?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Why not?”

  “I like basketball and football, but my sister would never let me play football because she doesn’t want me to get concussions. She’s studying to become a nurse, so she knows a lot about the human body.”

  Sutton had to agree with Zoey. If he’d had a son, he would be reluctant to allow him to play football with the increasing numbers of professional players being diagnosed with brain injuries. He then recalled Zoey telling him she was a home health aide. “Is she in nursing school?”

  “Not yet. She says she wants to wait until I graduate. She’s waiting to become a nurse and she’s waiting to get a boyfriend.”

  Sutton’s eyebrows lifted slightly with Harper’s reference to his sister not dating anyone, and he did not want to ask the boy if she was dating someone now. “How tall are you and how much do you weigh?” he questioned instead.

  “Six one and one seventy,” Harper replied.

  “You would be perfect for basketball as a small forward.”

  “I shoot hoops with my friend Jabari. Even though he’s taller than me, I’m able to beat him when it comes to three-pointers.”

  Sutton heard the pride in Harper’s voice. “Where do you shoot hoops?”

  “We go over to the high school. A couple of years ago they added an outdoor basketball court.”

  “Times have really changed because when we wanted to play basketball it was always in the school gym.”

  “Mr. Reed, why did you decide on baseball instead of football? Because you’re a real big dude.”

  Laughter rumbled in Sutton’s chest with Harper’s reference to his size. At six four, two hundred and thirty-five pounds, he’d had the speed and bulk to become a linebacker, but since retiring from baseball he’d shed twenty pounds and worked hard not to regain it. There was space in his condo where he’d set up an in-home gym and worked out every other day. The exercise equipment, along with the condo’s furnishings, was in a storage unit until he found permanent housing.

  “I tried out and made the football team but after sitting on the bench for a year I decided to switch to baseball. It was the best decision I’d ever made, because I really love the game and, thankfully, I’ve never had a concussion.”

  “It’s not only the head, Mr. Reed. When I see football players sitting in ice baths after a game, I tell myself that’s not for me,” Harper said, frowning.

  “Word,” Sutton drawled.

  Harper laughed, asking, “Did you ever take an ice bath?”

  “The closest I get to something that cold is putting an ice pack on my knee.” Slowing and signaling, Sutton turned down the road leading to the downtown business district. “We’re going to stop in the shoe store first before heading over to Powell’s.”

  * * *

  Zoey had just turned off the vacuum cleaner and stored it in one of the closets off the entryway when she heard her brother’s and Sutton’s voices. The weather had cooled enough for her to turn off the air conditioners and open windows to let in fresh air.

  When she’d gotten up earlier that morning, her intent was to give the house a thorough top-to-bottom cleaning to get that task out of the way so she could enjoy her two-week vacation. Other than working in her garden and catching up on reading, the only other thing on her to-do list was going on Powell’s website and ordering school clothes for Harper.

  She refused to think of how mundane her existence had become because she had only two years before she could begin to live on her own terms. Harper had made the high school’s honor roll and talked about attending college. She hadn’t had to withdraw any money from the scholarship fund established by the Wickham Falls residents following her parents’ death, and with accruing interest there was enough of a balance to cover four years of tuition for public and some private colleges.

  Openin
g the front door, she walked out onto the porch to find Harper exiting the Jeep holding several shopping bags stamped with Powell’s logo.

  She rested her hands at her waist. “What on earth did you buy?”

  “Stuff,” Harper said, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

  “Yeah, stuff,” Sutton repeated like a coconspirator.

  Harper mounted the stairs, Sutton following, and leaned in close to Zoey. “Mr. Reed brought me the latest Jordans and a pair of Adidas running shoes.”

  Her jaw dropped and she wanted to go off on her brother but decided to wait to talk to Sutton. Harper had been asking for the Jordans, but she did not have several hundred dollars to spend on a single pair of sneakers that he would either wear out or outgrow in the next six months. And not when she had to buy clothes because many of those he’d worn no longer fit.

  “We’ll talk about this later.” Harper must have registered the censure in her voice when he turned to stare at her.

  “I didn’t ask Mr. Reed to buy them for me.”

  “He’s right. I offered to buy them,” Sutton confirmed.

  Zoey gave him a level stare. “We need to talk.” She did not want Harper to take advantage of her neighbor’s goodwill, while she also did not want Sutton to give her brother whatever he asked for. She’d discovered after a few incidents that Harper could turn on and off the charm and he was also quite adept at becoming very manipulative to get his way. Cupping her elbow, Sutton led her to the love seat, waiting for her to sit before he took a facing chair.

  Sutton held up a hand. “Before you go off on me, I want you to know that Harper didn’t ask me to buy the Jordans. I’d noticed him staring at them while the salesclerk was looking for his running shoes, and I’ve seen that same expression on the face of countless young boys who want something they couldn’t have because their parents need the money to pay the rent or mortgage, or put food on the table. There are times when I asked myself when did a pair of sneakers become handmade designer shoes with price tags comparable to Crockett & Jones?”