In These Streets

by Shelly Ellis

  He gritted his teeth, turned, and walked out of the living room and down the hall, slamming their bedroom door behind him.

  * * *

  “And here we have the teachers’ lounge area,” Derrick said over his shoulder as he strolled down the hall. He gestured into the opened doorway. “We’ve got a sofa and some tables. A lot of the instructors like to hang out in here and grade papers, read, or just unwind for a bit. It’s not a library, but we try to keep the volume down in case anyone is trying to get some work done.”

  Morgan nodded. “Good. That sofa looks the perfect size to sleep on. I’d hate for anyone to interrupt my nap.”

  He paused in the middle of sipping his coffee and narrowed his eyes at her.

  “Joking,” she said shamefacedly.

  “Right,” Derrick muttered, continuing down the hall. “Let’s keep going.” He excused his way past a group of boys who were headed in the opposite direction.

  He was giving the newly minted instructor a tour of the Institute. It was her first day and her carpentry class was scheduled for later that morning. Derrick still had his misgivings about whether Morgan Owens was the best fit for this job and whether the boys would respect or even connect with her—but based on her credentials and her stellar interview, he was at least willing to give her a try. She seemed eager to prove that she was the right woman for the job. She had asked him plenty of questions during the course of their fifteen-minute tour of the facility. Unfortunately, his responses weren’t anywhere near as thoughtful or insightful as her questions. Derrick was just too preoccupied.

  He kept replaying his fight with Melissa this weekend and the silence between them all last night and this morning. None of it sat well with him. For the past few weeks he had been constantly asking himself, “What can I do to make it up to her, to prove how much I love her,” but now he was starting to wonder, “Will anything I do ever be good enough?” It seemed like he was doing all the giving, offering all the understanding—and not getting any back in return.

  He and Melissa had known each other for decades and he had loved her just as long. She should know his heart by now. She shouldn’t be questioning him like this.

  “So I guess you guys eat lunch in here?” Morgan said, leaning into another doorway.

  “Uh, yeah . . . yeah, we do,” Derrick replied, snapping his thoughts away from Melissa and back to the present. “This is our rec room and cafeteria.” He pointed into another room, stepping aside so that Morgan could have a look around. “Everyone at the facility can use this area—instructors, janitorial staff, and security. The only exception is the students. We’ve got a few vending machines, a coffee maker, and a water cooler. We have a small fridge, too, where you can store your lunch if you want.”

  Morgan peered around the room, squinting under the glare of the track lights. “Oh, wow! You guys got a TV and everything.” She turned to him and grinned. “I can catch up on my soaps.”

  He stared at her, making her laugh anxiously.

  “Uh, that was . . . that was another joke,” she mumbled.

  “I figured.”

  “Hey, sorry, Mr. Miller.” She shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans and glanced at the empty room, and then the boys who ran past them. “When I’m nervous, I say goofy shi—I mean, stuff. Don’t pay it any mind. It’s my first day and I’m . . . well, I’m really nervous. Hell, I’m so nervous, I’m sweating.” She pulled at the collar of her T-shirt and fanned her neck.

  Derrick lowered his coffee cup and smiled for the first time that morning. “I told you to call me Derrick. And you don’t have to be nervous. You’ll do fine. I know you will.”

  “You do?” she asked, looking doubtful.

  “Of course, I do! I wouldn’t have hired you if I didn’t.”

  “Well, that’s good to know. I wasn’t sure if maybe you were just desperate or somethin’. Maybe I was the only person who responded to your job ad.”

  He blinked in surprise. His smile disappeared. “Why would you think that?”

  “’Cuz the first time I showed up for the job interview you seemed to be trying your damnedest to convince me to not take the job. Then you offered it to me and as soon as I said yes . . . well, it’s probably dumb to admit this, but instead of being excited, I started second guessing myself. I thought, ‘Maybe I am being naïve. Maybe I will be in over my head with these kids.’ I’m pissed that I started to doubt myself, but now it’s there and I can’t get rid of it. It’s like a damn rash.”

  “Morgan, first off, I’m sorry I made you doubt yourself. I just wanted to give you the full scope of what working here would be like. I wasn’t trying to scare you off.”

  “And,” she continued, “today you seemed kind of . . . I don’t know . . . standoffish, I guess. I wasn’t sure if I’m talking too much. Joking too much. Again, when I get nervous, I—”

  He held up his hand and she instantly fell quiet. “You aren’t talking or joking too much. And I’m sorry if I seem standoffish. It’s not you or anything you did, and if I gave you that impression, I apologize. I just had a rough weekend and I’m . . . well . . . I’m not masking it very well.”

  She nodded as they began walking down the hall again. “Was your weekend as bad as mine? The first time in a week I decide not take the metro and drive instead, and some dude sideswipes my car, takes my rearview mirror with him, and drives off. Then when I got home, I see that my landlord had the nerve to give me notice he’s raising my rent. An increase of one hundred fifty bucks starting next month.”

  “Damn.”

  “I know! And my ex moved out just a few weeks ago. We shared the rent. I was already stressin’ because I can barely afford it on my own, so when I got that notice for the rent increase, I damn near lost it! I should send my ex a bill for the extra $150 since he left me high and dry,” she murmured, sucking her teeth. She glanced up at Derrick. “So can you top that? Did you have a worse weekend than me?”

  “If you look at them side by side, probably not.” He shrugged. “It wasn’t that bad, I guess. I’m just taking it harder than I should.”

  “Well, what was it?” she exclaimed then laughed when he looked taken aback. “Hey, I’m not trying to get all up in your business.” She paused. “Okay, maybe I am a little, but I’m a busy body! Have been as long as I can remember. And I can usually feed my habit because folks like to talk to me. My mama likes to call me the light-skinned Oprah,” she said, making him chuckle.

  “That’s a skill that should be useful with the kids . . . but I feel kind of weird talking to you about personal stuff.” He held up his hand. “No offense.”

  “None taken!” she said cheerily. They then fell into an awkward silence.

  They finished the tour fifteen minutes later, ending it at Morgan’s new workroom, which was in the basement of the building. He watched as she walked across the room that was filled with sanders and saw tables. Sawdust and random bolts and nuts littered the floor.

  Even though he knew she was a carpenter, she still looked out of place in the space—this tall, slender woman with the chin-length curls and the big green eyes. Even as she tugged on her suede work gloves, she looked like she was playing a game of dress up or engaged in some roleplay fetish.

  Hot Chicks with Power Tools, he bet would be the soft porn title, then blinked in surprise.

  He already had her starring in a porn movie?

  Better slow your roll.

  He was not only her boss now, but he was also engaged. This line of thinking was far from appropriate.

  “I’ll let you get situated before your class starts,” he called to her.

  “Thanks, Derrick. And thanks for the tour—and the pep talk. I needed it.”

  “You’ll be fine.”

  She smiled. “You’re right. I will. I know that now.”

  “And you know where to find me if you need me, right?”

  “Upstairs, second to last door on the left,” she replied as she placed a pair of protectiv
e goggles onto her head.

  He nodded and waved before turning toward the door.

  “And I hope your week gets better,” she called to him, making him halt in his steps. “If you ever feel comfortable talking about it, you know where to find me, too.”

  He nodded again, watching her as she arranged a stack of two-by-fours on one of the tables. He then strolled back into the hall, but not before taking one last glance at her over his shoulder.

  Chapter 11

  Ricky

  Ricky sat in the driver’s seat of his Mercedes, tiredly rubbing his eyes and staring out the tented window at the entrance of the doughnut shop across the street. The establishment was one block down from the police station. He’d heard that the local cops, in typical cop fashion, liked to eat doughnuts and drink coffee there and decided it was a safer and less conspicuous way to run into Patrol Officer Simone Fuller than go strolling into the police station and asking for her at the front desk.

  Besides, police stations gave him the hives.

  After what he’d seen at Dolla Dolla’s place, he knew he had to talk to her—even though a voice in his head kept yelling at him to stay the hell out of it. He worked for Dolla Dolla. He didn’t owe this woman a damn thing and yet, here he was waiting for her. He didn’t know if it was guilt or the woman herself, but he couldn’t resist the urge.

  It had been a lot easier than he’d thought to find out her full name and the station where she worked. One of the bouncers at the club was friends with a D.C. cop. He’d looked her up for Ricky as a favor. Unfortunately, it wasn’t as easy to run into her. He’d been sitting in his car for hours—since about six a.m.—and still hadn’t seen her at the doughnut shop or along the block, for that matter. He wondered if he was wasting his time.

  Finally, at around 8:55, he spotted her. She was strolling toward the shop with another officer: a tall, fat guy with a paunch and a graying handlebar mustache. She was talking and nodding.

  Goddamn, he thought as he watched her. Had she looked this good the last time he’d seen her?

  She’d been in plain clothes, not a police uniform back then. He had to admit reluctantly that she looked damn sexy in her cop gear, like one of the strippers at Club Majesty when they wore their themed costumes for Halloween. Except Simone’s uniform didn’t rip away to reveal glitter pasties and a G-string underneath.

  Or maybe it does, he thought wickedly, watching her as she walked and talked.

  She emerged from the shop fifteen minutes later, with a coffee cup and a small pastry bag in her hand. Ricky put on his sunglasses and tugged the brim of his baseball cap low. He reached for the stack of books in the passenger seat, opened his car door, and stepped out. He jogged across the street, pausing to let a Volkswagen pass. He walked toward her, looking down at his cellphone, pretending to be engrossed by what was on the screen. When they drew close, he bumped her shoulder, sending her Styrofoam coffee cup and paper bag flying and his books tumbling to the sidewalk.

  “Hey! Watch where you’re goin’!” she shouted, glaring at him and reaching for her spilled coffee cup. “I barely got to drink any of that.”

  “Sorry, officer,” he murmured with a smile, bending down to slowly gather his books. “I should’ve looked where I was going. My bad.”

  She squinted at him. When she realized who he was, her pretty face settled into scowl. “Wait. Ricky, is that—”

  “Don’t make it obvious,” he said barely above a whisper, still staring down at the books he was now stacking in his hands. “If I went through all the trouble to do this, don’t fuck it up.”

  “All the trouble to do this?” She looked around her, furrowing her brows. “You mean you ran into me on purpose? Why are you even pretending to—”

  “Because I think I found her. I think I found Skylar,” he whispered grimly, then reached for her pastry bag. “Let me get that for you,” he said in a louder, peppy voice.

  “You found her?” she shouted and he gave her another censuring look. She dropped her voice to a whisper as they both rose from their knees and stood up. “You better not be fucking with me, because if you are, I swear to God, I—”

  “I wouldn’t do that. I wouldn’t waste your time. I think I saw her and I wanted to tell you.”

  “Where?” she cried desperately. “Where did you see her? Did she look okay? Is she—”

  “Not here,” he said, shaking his head and peering up and down the busy block. “I’m not doing that shit here—not in the middle of the street where half of D.C. can see us.”

  Not with fifty cops eating doughnuts a block away, he thought.

  “Okay, then tell me inside the station,” she said, gesturing down the street. “I’ve got a cubicle where—”

  “Are you crazy? Dolla has eyes everywhere,” he whispered, still looking around him cagily. “Believe it or not, he may even have eyes inside your little police station.”

  This is taking too long, Ricky thought.

  He had planned to bump into her, give her the info for the meeting spot, and move on. It was supposed to be a quick pass—an interaction that lasted less than a minute— but it wasn’t turning out that way. He should’ve known she’d have five million questions. She was a cop; of course, she’d screw this up.

  “Look, I gotta go. I’m sorry I ran into you, officer. I’ll pay better atten—”

  “Wait! You can’t just leave. Take my number,” she said, reaching into the breast pocket below her name tag. “It has my extension and my cell number is written on the back of the card. You can call me whenever and—”

  He quickly shook his head. “You’re not going to have my number in your phone records. If this shit goes left, I don’t want any of this traced back to me.”

  “What? But how do I—”

  “And I want a promise that this stays on the low. No prosecutor better be subpoenaing my ass in court later.”

  “Fine,” she asked tightly. “But if I can’t call you and you won’t talk to me here, then how the hell should we do this? You plan to tell me with the sheer power of your mind?”

  He tilted his head. “No, sweetheart.” He handed her back the pastry bag. Tucked into the folded top of the bag was a receipt where he’d written an address and the meeting time on the back. “Enjoy your doughnut.”

  It took her a few seconds to notice the receipt. When she did, she quickly read it, crumpled it up in her palm, like it was trash, then nodded.

  She finally got it.

  It took you long enough, he thought with exasperation.

  “And make sure you don’t wear your uniform next time.” He casually turned away from her and began to walk back to his car. “It’s sexy as hell, but it ain’t the least bit inconspicuous.”

  He glanced back at her just as he crossed the street, and laughed when he found her scowling again.

  * * *

  As it turned out, she arrived ten minutes early, at around 10:20. Ricky had anticipated this, knowing the type of woman Simone was, so he’d shown up at 10:15 to beat her.

  The dim sum restaurant where they were meeting was constructed in a banquet-style with two stories, and rows upon rows of long tables and high ceilings painted a garish green and orange. More than a hundred diners were in the restaurant, filling it with a cacophony that made it hard to hear what someone was saying even if they were sitting right next to you. The crowds and seating style also made it hard to spot two people sitting together who didn’t want to be seen with each other publicly.

  Ricky gave a small smile when he saw her walk in. Again, he questioned her definition of inconspicuous. She’d done as he requested and skipped wearing her uniform; tonight, she wore a purple halter dress that was cut low in the front and back, pairing it with gold, strappy heels. Yes, she looked like she was going out on a date and not investigating a missing person, but she certainly didn’t blend into the room. It was like a spotlight followed her around.

  He watched as she walked from table to table and then finally took
a seat at one of the banquet tables on the first level, toward the back of the restaurant next to what looked to be a trickling water fountain with a smiling Buddha at the center. A waitress sauntered toward her and leaned down with notepad in hand to take her order. Simone said something he couldn’t hear. The waitress nodded then walked off and Simone glanced down at her watch. She gazed around her again, on the lookout for him.

  He grabbed his drink and rose from his table, descending the stairs and taking a path that let him approach her from behind so that she couldn’t see him coming.

  “You’re early,” he said when he stood a foot behind her chair.

  She whipped around and stared up at him. “So are you.”

  He pulled out the free chair next to her and sat down.

  “There isn’t much privacy in here,” she said, leaning toward his ear to be heard. She glanced at the couple sitting beside them.

  He felt her warm breath on his beard as she spoke, and it caused a twitch in his groin.

  “I didn’t promise you privacy. I said to be inconspicuous, and that’s what we are. No one will notice us in a place like this.”

  “I guess you’re right,” she said, leaning back.

  The air in the restaurant was chilly, making goosebumps sprout on her bare arms and she started to shiver a little. If it were a date, he would offer her his suit jacket, but this wasn’t a date, and he didn’t want it to be mistaken as such, so she would just have to bear the cold.

  Ricky wondered if the cold air was also the reason why her nipples were hard. They looked like two little pointy erasers, jutting through the silk fabric of her halter top, begging for his attention. He felt another pesky twitch in his groin. Maybe he should offer her his jacket.

  He raised his drink to his lips, trying his best to mask his reaction. This shit was starting to be a pain in the ass. He took a drink.

  “That was a smart move you pulled today by the doughnut shop by the way . . . that whole ‘bumping into me’ thing on the sidewalk,” she said. “Where’d you learn to do that?”