ONE SMALL VICTORY

by Maryann Miller

  “Do I even want to know where you got the gun?”

  “I don’t think so.” Jenny watched him dig another rock out of the ground and wondered if this was going to be the end of it, after all. Had she passed Chico’s weird test only to be shut down by the good guys?

  With hindsight, she could see that telling Steve how she’d regained Chico’s respect had been a big mistake. But he’d asked, and she just wasn’t a good enough liar to adlib a plausible story. For the hundredth time since this conversation started, she wished she’d anticipated the question so she could’ve scripted a scenario that didn’t include the gun.

  “Maybe if you tell me you don’t have it any more, I wouldn’t have to report anything.” Steve said, hefting the rock but not throwing it.

  The calm tone of his comment brought a wave of relief, and Jenny wanted to smile at his obvious avoidance of the word, ‘gun.’ What did he think? If he didn’t say it, it didn’t exist? She leaned back on her elbows and regarded him, stifling the urge to smile. “You know that backing down is not an option.”

  Still he didn’t look at her. “I don’t want you to back down. I want you to stop breaking the rules.”

  “So I should tell you I don’t have the gun anymore?”

  He transferred the rock to his other hand. “Yes.”

  “Okay. I don’t have it anymore.”

  He turned to her, a flash of emotion darkening his eyes. “I’m serious, Jenny. This isn’t a part you’re playing for some fuckin’ TV drama.”

  “I’ll try to keep that in mind, Lieutenant.” She stood and brushed the dead grass from her jeans.

  “Wait.”

  Jenny sighed, but stood rigid.

  “Do you have any idea how hard it is to be responsible for you?”

  A cloud passed over the sun, and Jenny wasn’t sure if her shudder was from the sudden cool shadow or the impact of the question. How was she supposed to answer? She didn’t know what it was like for him. Hell. She still wasn’t always sure what it was like for her. Only that it still seemed like the right thing to do.

  If she was a deeply religious person, she’d believe that God had ordained her to take up this cause. Otherwise Gonzales would have laughed her out of his office when she’d first made her request. And wasn’t it within the scope of that mission to use her instincts? They’d always been true to her before.

  “Please sit down.” Steve tapped her on the leg.

  She turned to look at him. “So you can tell me again how much trouble I am?”

  “No.” The hint of a smile touched his face. “So we can get this operation back on course.”

  Relief washed through her as she realized that meant he wasn’t pulling the plug on the whole deal. She sat down, crossing her legs at the ankles and leaning on her knees.

  “Okay,” Steve said. “The rip-off was probably some kind of test. And even though I don’t approve of your method, I’d venture a guess that you passed. So they may be ready to move to the next step.”

  “I’m good for that. Then I’ll be that much closer to the end of it all.”

  “Just be careful.”

  “I will.”

  “No more gun.”

  Jenny held up two fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

  “I mean it.”

  “I do, too.”

  With a sudden clarity, Jenny realized that she did mean it. Despite the positive outcome, the whole episode with Chico had scared the peewadin’ out of her. And all the satisfaction in the world couldn’t dispel the feeling of horror at the thought of having to carry that threat to completion.

  Steve broke eye-contact, digging the heel of his boot into the dirt. Looking for another rock? Jenny sensed a slight edge of tension in him and wondered what had shifted his mood. Maybe she should just go. Leave him to whatever private thoughts he was having. But she hated to head back to the hassles of town and traffic just yet. It was so peaceful out here, especially since the sun had escaped from behind the cloud, casting yellow streaks down to the horizon. The rays warmed her face, reminding her of carefree childhood days romping in a park.

  “Katie used to love to come here.”

  “Oh?”

  His comment was from so far out in left field, she had to stretch to grab it. The first thing that popped into her mind was a realization that he hadn’t stumbled on this place all by himself. But who was this ‘Katie?’ He’d said he never had a family. But he could’ve had a wife without a family.

  “A couple of times she helped the artists put up their displays.”

  “Was...is she your wife?”

  “No.”

  The one-word answer carried a wistful note, and Jenny wondered if he wasn’t going to say anymore. Then he turned and gave her a half-smile. “She was, to use the modern term, my significant other.”

  “Oh.”

  “She loved that designation. Said that’s why she didn’t want to get married. Then she wouldn’t be significant anymore.”

  He stopped, seeming to take an intense interest in a hawk that was gliding in wide, lazy circles above them. Jenny put her curiosity on hold and followed the bird’s movements until it suddenly dove out of sight. She didn’t know if she should be happy for the hawk who had found his dinner, or sorry for whatever critter it had spotted.

  When Steve started to speak again, it startled her.

  “It seemed to amaze her that she could mean so much to someone that it made her significant,” he said, still keeping his gaze averted.

  “What happened?”

  “She was an orphan. Spent most of her life being kicked around foster...” He stopped and turned to her again. “That isn’t what you meant, is it?”

  Jenny sat up. “Listen. This is none of my business. You don’t have to-”

  “It’s okay. There’s really not much else to say. She died three years ago.”

  “Oh.”

  Jenny felt like a verbal idiot. Was that all she could say? ‘Oh?’

  As the silence lengthened, she remembered what he’d said about running scared. Loss was a good enough motivation. She fully understood that.

  Watching him scuff his boot in the dirt again, she wished her wits hadn’t deserted her. It would be nice to be able to offer some word of comfort; of understanding. But she couldn’t think of anything but those horrible platitudes people had tried to foist off on her.

  Sometimes words were so totally pointless.

  Steve ceased the aimless action of his foot and brushed a hand across his cheek. “Don’t know what made me say all that.”

  Sensing that he was as disconcerted as she was, she went for the joke. “Some people say I’m easy.”

  “No.” He turned and studied her for a long moment. “You’re much too complicated to ever be considered easy.”

  Jenny swallowed. The intensity of his gaze held her, yet she couldn’t fathom what was in the depths of those incredible eyes. Did she dare follow her instinct to lean into him? Whoa, girl. Back off. He probably isn’t even headed where your mind went.

  She stood again. “I should get home.”

  “I’m going to stay a little while.”

  Her shadow touched his face and clouded his expression. Should she offer to stay with him? Was he okay? Should she just go? It would be nice if I had a cue.

  When one didn’t come, she shrugged. “I’ll call when I have something to report.”

  “Sure.”

  Walking back to her car, Jenny tried to figure out what had just happened. Or was it more what didn’t happen. At one point his look had appeared to be one of interest. Either that, or she’d lost all ability to gauge the opposite sex. And she was sure that the confidence he’d shared wasn’t one he tossed out to every person he worked with. That had to mean something.

  Then again, it had been a long time since she’d been in this awkward emotional dance between two people. She may have read it all wrong. If he harbored an interest, wouldn’t he have made some move? If the electricity was real, no
t just something she imagined, certainly he would have felt it, too. Then again—

  Put it to rest. This is a working arrangement. Nothing more. And you have more important things to worry about.

  To keep her mind from wandering that path again, Jenny spent the hour it took to drive home trying to think of something that would ease the tension between her and Scott. If she could just buy some time, she could get through this without destroying the tenuous hold they had on their relationship.

  Maybe a couple of nights at home would help. He’d seemed to appreciate it last time, especially when she made the apple pie. She could resort to bribery again if she had to.

  When Jenny walked in the back door, she saw Alicia sitting at the kitchen counter, dipping Chips Ahoy in a tall glass of milk.

  “Mmmmm. That looks good.” Jenny dropped her purse on the counter and grabbed a glass out of the cabinet. “Can I join you?”

  Alicia giggled. “That’s silly.”

  “What’s silly.”

  “The way you asked.”

  Jenny smiled as she straddled a chair and set her glass on the table. She grabbed a cookie. “Did you make me proud at school today?”

  “I guess.”

  “You guess? Don’t you know?”

  Alicia shrugged. “We didn’t get any marks today.”

  “That’s okay, Honey. I was just goofing around.” Jenny finished her cookie and took another out of the bag. “Where’s Scott?”

  Alicia shrugged again and took a bite of a soggy cookie.

  “Didn’t he meet you after school and walk home with you?”

  “Nope.”

  “Doesn’t he usually?”

  “Mostly. Sometimes he forgets. Or sometimes he’s with Caitlin.”

  Jenny hoped that’s all it was; simple adolescent forgetfulness and not some retaliation against her.

  The jangle of the phone claimed her attention. Jenny hopped up and went to lift the receiver. She’d barely said ‘hello’ when Ralph’s angry voice assaulted her.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Eating cookies.”

  “Don’t be a wiseass.”

  “Don’t shout at me.” Jenny saw Alicia look up with interest and wished she’d kept her voice lower.

  “Scott called.”

  “Oh.” Jenny turned and walked into the hallway, bracing for whatever onslaught was to come. She should have realized it was going to be bad when Ralph’s opening gambit repeated Scott’s accusation almost word for word.

  “He told me you’ve been acting strange lately.

  ”

  “Well, life is hardly normal now, is it?”

  “Don’t hand me that crap. You’ve been staying out half the night. Not working. Don’t expect help from me when the bills pile up.”

  Only the knowledge that it would fuel his anger kept her from laughing out loud. “Don’t worry, Ralph. We’ll manage. We always have.”

  He either didn’t pick up on the sarcasm or chose to ignore it. “How can I not worry? When will I get another call from Scott?”

  “You won’t.”

  “I’d better not.”

  “Or what?” Jenny fought to keep from yelling. Alicia didn’t need to hear them fight.

  “Let’s just not let it get that far.

  ”

  “Is that a threat?”

  “No. I’ll let the court do that. Remember. Custody can be revoked.”

  Long after he broke the connection the words roared through Jenny’s mind like a spring flood rushing through a gully. Could that really happen? Would he dare? Not that any judge would easily give custody to Ralph. He didn’t have an exemplary record as a caring father. But then he could make one hell of a case against her if he wanted to and Scott continued to complain. The system had snatched kids away from parents on less provocation than her brand of neglect.

  She walked back to put the handset on the receiver and glanced at Alicia who paused with a cookie in one hand. White drops of milk dripped off the cookie and splashed on the tabletop. “What’s wrong, Mommy?”

  “Nothing, Honey. That was Daddy. We just had to work something out.”

  “Didn’t he want to talk to me?”

  Jenny winced at the forlorn note in her daughter’s voice. How long before she wouldn’t even ask any more? Jenny sighed. “He probably didn’t realize you were home. The time is different where he lives.”

  Alicia dunked her cookie again and took another bite. Then she looked up again. “Next time, tell him I’m here. Then he’ll talk to me.”

  “Sure.” Jenny went to the sink so her daughter couldn’t see the lie on her face. It seldom mattered if she told Ralph the kids were home. Most often he would make some excuse that he had to call them back, and most often that would never happen.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Squinting against the late-afternoon sun, Chico stood at the edge of the pool and watched the Cuban flail against the water like a fish trying not to get caught. It reminded him of the time he tried to teach his cousin to swim. All the boy had accomplished was to stir the water in the creek so hard it had taken hours for the silt to settle. Some people were just not meant for the water.

  “He’s doing laps,” Solly said. “Doesn’t talk to anyone while he’s doing laps.”

  Glad the Boss couldn’t see how he struggled to keep a straight face, Chico waited for the wild churning of arms and legs to end. If Frank had any opinion about this sad excuse for exercise, he didn’t voice it. But then Chico knew the other man hadn’t climbed the corporate ladder by having opinions out loud. Maybe it would be in Chico’s best interests to work harder on impassive.

  It was a moderate day for November but not warm enough for a swim, and Chico wondered why the Boss did this kind of work-out when he had enough money to buy an entire gym. The steam that billowed from the pool indicated it was a lot warmer in the water than out, but still, Chico wouldn’t be swimming on a bet, sunshine or not.

  The Cuban splashed to the ladder and pulled his lean body out of the water. Chico saw goose bumps erupt across the exposed skin that was streaming with moisture. Solly quickly stepped forward and handed over a large, plush towel.

  “Good for the heart,” the Cuban said, gesturing to the pool as he walked over to Frank and Chico. “You should try it.”

  Chico wasn’t sure what kind of response was appropriate; certainly not some wiseass remark about getting a bigger payout so he could afford a fuckin’ pool. But Frank kept his mouth shut, so Chico followed suit.

  “What’s so important you boys had to come all the way out here?”

  “That woman, Connie. She’s got what it takes.” Frank said. “Came after Chico here with a goddam gun.”

  “How come he’s still walking?”

  Chico blanched at the callousness of that comment, risking a quick glance at Frank. He touched the scar on his face in a gesture Chico had seen only once before; when Frank had been ordered to take out that mule who’d been seen talking to the cops. The twelve-year-old boy was rumored to be Frank’s nephew.

  Frank dropped his hand and offered a smile. “Guess she didn’t want him dead. Said it was payback from us ripping her off. Did it real slick, too.”

  “And I need to know this because?” The Cuban draped the towel over his shoulders and held it closed like a robe as he walked toward a portable bar.

  Frank followed, talking as he went. “Chico wants to use her to push even more merchandise in North Dallas. I think she’s good for it.”

  The Boss glanced at Chico. “You trust her?”

  He nodded, doing his best impression of impassive.

  The other man opened a decanter of scotch and held it aloft, the question inherent in raised eyebrows. Frank shook his head, and again, Chico followed that lead. Not that he didn’t want a drink. A good strong shot would calm the jitters in his stomach, but it would be suicide to betray any nervousness by accepting.

  After pouring two fingers of amber liquid in a cry
stal glass, the Cuban took a swallow, then looked at Chico. “How much can she move?”

  “She’s been handling a few bags now for a while. Figures she could double that easy. Maybe about two g’s worth.”

  “A week?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Must be some pretty big parties.”

  “Not that many people. But they’re all high-rollers. And they party all weekend.”