by Neesa Hart
“We got money, you know,” said the tall kid, the one who’d turned May Belle loose on Odelia. “It’s not like we’re expecting you to do it for free.”
Zack had to suppress a smile as he wondered if the boys knew what New York lawyers cost these days. “How much money?”
The kid with the kitchen strainer on his head stepped forward. “A whole hundred dollars.”
“A hundred twelve dollars,” Jeff said.
“And thirty-seven cents,” added Bo.
The boy August had called Chip, easily the youngest of the seven, slipped his hand into Zack’s. His chubby fingers felt sticky and warm, as. though they’d been someplace they shouldn’t have. “And a rock,” he added solemnly.
He didn’t know when he’d had a more enticing offer to take a case. He had a brief image of telling Jansen Riley that the five-figure retainer he’d given Zack to come to Keegan’s Bend had just been bested by a hundred twelve dollars and a rock. He nearly laughed out loud.
Pleasantly enticed by the freshness of the innocence, he tilted his head toward the porch and told the boys, “Why don’t we sit on the porch, and you can tell me about your case?”
“Does that mean you’re going to take it?” asked the kid with the strainer.
“No,” Zack said, “it means I’m willing to consider it”
“You gotta take it.”
“Depends on how much you need a lawyer,” Zack countered.
Jeff pulled up his jeans again. “Nobody ever needed a lawyer as much as we do,” he assured Zack. “Come on.” He pointed to the porch. “Let’s tell him.”
The boys herded onto the porch in a jumble of jeans and sneakers. Only the tall one, the one with the hard glare, sauntered toward the shade with the studied detachment of a kid who cares too much and doesn’t want it to show. Zack fell into step behind him.
When all seven boys had found a place to sit—or, in Jeffs case, lean—against the porch rail, Zack propped one foot on the bottom step. “All right Let’s start with your names. You’re Jeff.”
Jeff aodded, then pointed at the kid with the kitchen strainer. “That’s Sam.”
“Hiya,” Sam said, giving Zack a half wave.
“Nice hat,” Zack said.
Sam didn’t blink. “Thanks.”
Zack looked at Chip. He still wore his fuchsia bike helmet and cape. “You’re Chip?”
Chip grinned at him. It was a toothless, engaging grin, that made Zack want to smile back. “Chip Parker,” he said.
“Nice to meet you.”
Sam sneezed. “Bless you,” Zack said automatically.
“Don’t pay him no mind.” Jeff’s tone had the unmistakable authority of a child repeating adult conversation. “He’s allergic.”
“To what?”
“Everything.”
Sam wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “Am not. Just stuff that makes me sneeze.”
“I see.”
Jeff continued with the introductions. “That’s Josh,” he. said, pointing to the handsomest of the seven boys, the one with the squeaky voice. With his dark hair and eyes, if his voice ever changed, Josh would no doubt be a lady-killer when he hit adolescence. He had a bored, sloe-eyed look about him that the women of Zack’s acquaintance generally found irresistible in men. Josh acknowledged Jeffs introduction with a slight tilt of his head.
“Who are you?” Zack asked the redheaded kid closest to him.
“That’s Teddy,” Sam told him. “He don’t talk.”
“Why not?”
“Just don’t,” said Sam. “I reckon he don’t want to.”
Zack nodded at Teddy. “That’s a good enough reason.” Teddy stuck out his hand, and Zack gave it a solemn shake. “Nice to meet you.”
Jeff pointed to the shy-looking boy who had briefly occupied Zack’s lounge chair. With his hands folded in his lap, and his pristine white tennis shoes resting on the ground, he was the picture of perfect behavior. “That’s Bo.”
He gave Zack a slight wave. “Hello, Mr. Adriano,” he said.
His polite retort didn’t surprise Zack. Perfect manners seemed in keeping with his subdued, disturbingly mature countenance. “Hello, Bo.”
“And that,” Jeff said, with a slight tilt of his head in the direction of the tall, hard-eyed boy, “is Lucas.”
Lucas glared at him. Zack almost laughed. Long ago, he’d made it a habit to carefully assess prospective clients before taking their cases. His instincts rarely failed him. Lucas’s defiant glare reminded him of Eddy “The Pick” Baltucci telling him he’d break Zack’s knuckles if he didn’t get his prostitute cousin out of jail within the hour. As a rule, Zack never took clients with weapons for nicknames. Lawyers lived longer that way. At Eddy’s threat, Zack had called security, and, to the best of his knowledge, some other lawyer had taken responsibility for Maria Baltucci’s delinquency.
He thought about asking Lucas if he had a nickname, but decided not to give the kid any ideas. He’d be calling himself Lucas the Spike by the end of the week, and August definitely wouldn’t like it. “Okay,” he said. “My name’s Zack Adriano.”
“Yeah, yeah, we know,” Sam said. “And you’re a lawyer.”
“A New York lawyer,” Bo added.
“A New York lawyer,” Zack agreed. “So how many of you guys actually live with August?”
Jeff pushed his glasses up on his nose. “Lucas and Bo and Teddy and Chip are August’s kids.”
“What about the rest of you?”
“Me and Sam are brothers. We live with our dad.”
“But you spend a lot of time with August?”
“Sure. Dad works out at the Hedrick place as the farm manager. This is tobacco season, and he ain’t around much. So we stay with August.”
“I see.” Zack felt a surprising burst of annoyance that their father had allowed August to take on two more kids when she already had a houseful. Some people, he had learned the hard way, were quick to prey on the weak.
Jeff was pointing at Josh. “and Mrs. Prentiss is Josh’s grandma.”
“Mrs. Prentiss?” Zack frowned. Was this another neighbor who’d dumped her kid on August’s already loaded shoulders?
“She takes care of us” Chip supplied. “She comes over when August is gone”.
“Ah.” He nodded. “So four of you live next door, and three of you are just around a lot.”
“That’s right,” Jeff answered.
“So who needs the lawyer?”
“All of us,” said Bo. “We put all our money together.”
“What makes you guys think my services are worth your life savings?”
Sam shifted impatiently on the step. “Cause Ms. Keegan’s going to bump off Lucas and Chip and Teddy and Bo if you don’t stop her.”
“Bump them off?”
Jeff muttered something beneath his breath. “He means ship them off, not bump them off. Ms. Keegan’s been bugging August about getting rid of ’em.”
Zack nodded, thoughtful. “So I hear.”
When Chip shook his head, his fuchsia bike helmet wobbled back and forth. “I don’t like Ms. Keegan.”
Neither, as far as Zack knew, did anyone else. “Where do you think she’s going to ship you?”
Jeff looked thoughtful, then said. “Probably prison.”
“Yeah,” said Sam. “She’s always saying we’re all dedelin…”
“Delinquents,” Bo whispered.
“Delinquents belong in prison,” Sam said.
“And you think a lawyer can help?” Zack asked.
Jeff nodded. “Sure. That’s your job. You’re supposed to keep people out of prison.”
“Truth, justice and the American way,” Chip said.
“No, doofus.” Lucas gave the bike helmet a gentle whap. “That’s Superman.”
Chip didn’t seem to be offended by the comment. “I don’t want to go to prison.”
Teddy vehemently shook his head. Bo, Zack noticed, looked terrified.
&nbs
p; “So are you gonna help us or not?” Jeff persisted.
“Depends,” Zack said. Beyond the fence, he watched as Odelia bustled into her car, slammed the door and roared out of the driveway. He didn’t miss the way August’s shoulders drooped slightly as she watched the powder blue sedan disappear.
“On what?” Jeff persisted. “We said we’d pay you.”
Zack watched as August scanned her yard for signs of the boys. Depends, he thought, on just how mad I get at odelia Keegan.
“See, Jeff, I told you this wouldn’t work,” Lucas said. “No one’s going to help us.”
Zack briefly scanned their faces. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t help you.”
“So we told you we got over a hundred dollars. What else do you want?” Sam asked.
Zack felt his lips twitch. Considering that for two weeks he’d been having some pretty steamy visions about just what he wanted, and about how those wants involved August Trent, he didn’t think sensitive ears were ready for the truth. “I want to see the rock,” he said, just as he saw August round the corner of her house.
“Boys?” August’s voice held a note of irritation. “Where are you?” She was in the process of putting a reluctant May Belle and the two dogs back in their pens.
At the sound of her voice, Bo threw Jeff a panicked look. “Look,” Jeff told Zack, “we gotta go. Are you going to help us or not?”
The boys had already begun scrambling for the fence, evidently recognizing trouble in August’s tone. Only Jeff and Chip lingered. Even Lucas had bolted from the porch. “I’ll have to think about it,” Zack told Jeff. “Can I give you an answer later?”
“Boys?” August yelled again.
Jeff hurried down the steps. “Yeah, sure! Later’s fine,” he yelled over his shoulder.
Only Chip seemed unconcerned by the sudden, urgent need to retreat. He pressed a blue stone into Zack’s hand. “That’s the rock,” he told him.
Zack studied it a second. It was a plastic gemstone that had seen better days. He put a hand on Chip’s shoulder to usher him toward the ivy-concealed break in the fence where the boys were about to crush one another as they tried to cram through the opening simultaneously. Zack reached the fence just as Jeff, the last of the six, stumbled through to the other side. August stood, hands on pleasantly curved hips, facing the house. Had the boys not been escaping as surely as minnows through a torn net, Zack might have taken the time to contemplate the view. This was as close as he’d been to her since he moved into the house. Instead, he held Chip still with one hand while he parted the dense ivy at the top of the fence with the other.
“Boys, come out here right now,” August demanded.
“They’re over here,” Zack announced from across the fence.
Visibly startled, August spun to face him. From the corner of his eye, he noted the disgusted look Jeff gave him. Chip had slipped his hand back into Zack’s. “They were visiting me,” Zack informed August.
She glanced quickly at the six boys now on her side of the fence. She looked tired and frustrated. Zack figured two run-ins with two old goats in the same hour could do that to a woman. “Where’s Chip?” she asked.
Chip tried to jump high enough to see over the fence. “Over here,” he told her.
August gave the boys a piercing look before she approached the fence. “I’m very sorry, Mr. Adriano. They know—”
He held up his hand. The minute he released Chip’s collarbone, the boy slid free and eased his way through the fence to join the others. “It was no trouble,” Zack assured her.
She glanced at the boys again. “What were you doing over there?” she asked.
Lucas gave Jeff a slight whack on the back of the head. “I told you it wouldn’t work.”
“Jeffrey?” August asked.
“We just wanted to talk to him.”
“As soon as my back was turned, you took the opportunity to bother Mr. Adriano, despite the fact that I told you I didn’t want you over there?” August asked.
The boys looked sheepish. Except Bo and Chip. Chip grinned at Zack. Bo looked perilously close to tears. August pushed a burnished curl off her forehead. “Darn it, Jeff, I trusted you.”
“Sorry,” he mumbled.
Zack felt a twinge of guilt. It wouldn’t be fair to let her think the boys had intruded on his privacy. He didn’t want them in trouble on his account. “It’s really not—”
August held up a hand to interrupt him, but didn’t take her eyes off the boys. “Do you know why Mrs. Keegan was here?” she asked them. No one answered. “Lucas?” she asked.
Lucas shifted uncomfortably. “She thinks I rode my bike through that new cement she had poured around old man Keegan’s statue.”
“And you didn’t?”
Lucas’s expression turned rebellious. “Don’t you believe me?”
“If you say you didn’t, I believe you didn’t,” August said. “Does anyone know anything about this?”
In unison, seven heads wagged no. With a heavy sigh, August wiped her hands on the front of her overalls. “That’s what I told Mrs. Keegan. All right, I want all of you to apologize to Mr. Adriano, then go inside and wash up for dinner.”
Zack was about to protest that he didn’t see the need for an apology when August shot him a warning look. He knew better than to counter her authority with the boys. Besides, once the boys were gone, he’d have at least several minutes to speak with her alone, an opportunity that hadn’t presented itself in over two weeks. If he hoped to satisfy Jansen, he’d better start getting pretty damn friendly with August Trent. Fortunately, he thought, glancing at her with thorough masculine appreciation, the prospect held a certain element of appeal.
One by one, the boys filed by his position at the fence, muttering apologies. Lucas glared at him so hard, Zack felt his gaze bore through his skull. Last in line, Teddy and Chip approached the fence together. Teddy gave Zack a halfhearted wave before dashing toward the house, but Chip studied him from beneath his fuchsia helmet. “Are you gonna keep my rock?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Zack admitted.
Chip nodded. “Hope so,” he said, then trotted off toward the house.
A gentle peach flush, the remains of her argument with Odelia, stained August’s face. “I really am sorry,” she told him. “I told them I didn’t want them bothering you while—”
“They weren’t bothering me,” he assured her. “There’s only so much peace and quiet a main can take.”
Her eyes widened slightly, and Zack decided the color reminded him of a vintage bourbon, sort of spicy and mellow, all at the same time. “It’s just that they’re used to playing over there.”
“I noticed the ’phone’ line.” He pointed to the wire that ran between the master bedroom of Jansen’s house and August’s. “Quite ingenious.”
“They can’t take credit for that one. It was there when we moved in.”
“The coffee can on my side looks new.”
“I didn’t say they didn’t use it, I just said they didn’t invent it. Until a few months ago, Mr. Riley had a caretaker living over there. She let the boys play hide-and-seek in the house.”
He decided he liked the way August talked to him. She looked at him squarely when she spoke, like a woman with nothing to hide, a woman who didn’t play games. He found himself comparing the women of his acquaintance with her straightforward honesty, and thinking that they all fell short. To her credit, she held his gaze throughout his scrutiny. His lips curved into an appreciative smile. “Still, it can’t be much fun to be eight and have a stranger take over your playhouse.”
“It can’t be much fun to be recuperating from a serious injury and have the Mongol hordes invading your yard, either,” she said.
“My injury?” he asked. Automatically his hand rubbed his thigh through the fabric of his jeans. “I see news travels fast.”
Her flush seemed to heighten. He found himself intrigued by the notion that the peach tint might color her skin
from head to foot. “I wasn’t trying to pry,” she assured him. “It’s just that Keegan’s Bend is a very small place, and it didn’t take long for people to know why you’re here.”
“Unfortunately, that doesn’t surprise me,” he told her. “As hard as I tried to keep the incident out of the press, I think it still got picked up by a couple of affiliates.”
“It did. I saw it on the national news.”
Somehow, it irked him to know that August Trent, and evidently the rest of Keegan’s Bend, thought he was sitting on death's door. Just because he was recovering from a wounded leg, that didn’t mean he was about to keel over dead. Deliberately he leaned closer to her. When his face was near enough to hers to allow him a whiff of her perfume, he said, “They sensationalized it. It really wasn’t all that impressive. I was standing in the district court of appeals in Manhattan when a gunman opened fire in the corridor. The kid was too drugged up to aim at anything. The worst damage he did was the bullet he put in my femur.”
She frowned at him. “That’s not the way I heard it.”
“Gossip isn’t always a reliable source.”
“The report said you put yourself between the gunman and a child.”
“That child was my client’s daughter.” He shrugged. “People like to make it sound heroic, but it was instinct. What would you do if you had a kid next to you, and some nut opened fire?”
She shook her head. “It’s not what I’d do—it’s what most people would do. I don’t think a lot of folks would have put their lives on the line for a six-year-old.”
“I really liked that particular six-year-old.” He didn’t add that the child’s father had just been acquitted of a crime Zack was now certain he’d committed, that for the first time in his career he’d been deceived into defending a guilty client. He wasn’t ready to discuss that.
She seemed to sense his determination to keep the conversation light. With a slight shrug, she said, “You should take something like that very seriously. An injury to a major bone can take months to heal.”