“Poor kid.”
Lissy bit off the frog’s head with a giggle.
“A lot of the kids who come here have similar stories,” Frankie replied, standing abruptly. He sounded sympathetic. Understanding. It made him seem like a normal man.
Which he most definitely was not. She didn’t want anything to do with Cal, especially not have a personal conversation. She wouldn’t see him again after today.
“When they finish eating, they play games or just hang out for an hour,” she said briskly. “Then they go home, and you’re done.”
“About that, Frankie.” He jerked his head toward the kids cleaning the area around the deli case. “You obviously need help here. I think I should stay.”
She desperately needed help. But not from him. “Judge Kelly will send me someone else.”
“But…”
“For the next hour, your job is to interact with the kids,” she said, ignoring his attempt to change her mind. He was a self-centered jerk, and dealing with him would take too much of her attention away from the kids.
“Some of them will want to talk to you,” she told him. “They like their sports heroes.” She tried to let go of the tightness in her chest and the tension in her shoulders. She’d tried not to think about Bascombe, but it was impossible. Having to deal with Cal as well was too much. But tomorrow, things would be better. Cal would be gone, and in a few days she’d have someone else to help her. Someone more appropriate. “If you don’t want to talk football, you can play games with them. The only thing you can’t do is stand around and watch.”
“That’s not a problem,” he said coolly. “I don’t watch. I do.”
“Have at it, then,” she answered, equally coolly. But he was already strolling away.
She waited for him to head into the office, phone clutched in his hand, but he had morphed into the perfect volunteer. He answered every question from the starstruck boys, laying it on thick. And they fell for his charm, laughing and joking with him as if they’d known him forever.
Julio walked over to the group, the ever-present basketball tucked beneath his arm, and a few moments later, all the boys surged toward the hoop. Cal held back for a moment, then followed them.
The girls plopped onto the couches and began chattering. Lissy and Harley headed toward the foosball table. Frankie waited a few minutes, but when it became clear that no one needed her, she grabbed a stack of paperwork from the office and sat down at a homework table. And stared at the donor requests she needed to write.
No way could she concentrate on this. All she saw was Bascombe’s face, staring at her from the newspaper. She thumbed through the stack and found one intended for DCFS. God! Had Bascombe ever handled grants? Had she submitted a request to him at some point?
She pretended to work, but her hands were shaking again. So she set her pen on the stack of papers and watched the basketball game. The boys on Cal’s team shouted and gave him high fives. He’d apparently done something good.
Julio and the boys on the other team huddled together. When they started playing again, Julio cut in and out between players, took a pass and laid it in the basket. Now his team was the one celebrating.
Frankie stood abruptly and went into her office. She needed to be calm, focused when she called the judge. Sarah knew her well enough to hear the tension in her voice. Frankie had to be rational about asking for a different volunteer.
Finally the clock hit six, and she stepped out of the office. “Okay, everyone. Time to pack up.”
Cal bumped fists with most of the boys, clapped Sean on the back and put the basketball into the cabinet as the kids hurried over to get their bags. He smiled at the girls, then watched with his hands in his pockets as they straggled out the door.
“You want me to lock it?” he called to her after the door finally closed.
“Yes. Thank you.” She gathered her papers and headed for the office. “I’ll call Sarah, then you’re free to leave.”
“Hold on, Frankie.”
Cal headed toward her, and it almost looked as if he was limping.
“Did you hurt yourself playing basketball?” she asked.
“I’m fine.” He slowed down, and the limp disappeared. “You’re really going to call her?”
“That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
“I have another idea that would work for both of us. Why don’t I give you some money to hire someone who actually knows how to work with kids? That leaves me free to concentrate on football and gets you competent help. We’d both get what we need and Judge Kelly wouldn’t have to be involved.”
Frankie narrowed her eyes. “Let me make sure I understand you. You’re offering me a bribe to sign off on your CS hours.”
“‘Bribe’ sounds so harsh. Think of it as a creative use of my money and your skills.”
Frankie counted to ten before speaking again. “What makes you think I’d be amenable to a bribe?”
“This place needs money. You don’t want me working with your kids. Seems logical to me.”
“It seems exactly like something you’d think of. And the answer is no.”
“Then let me stay.” He stopped in front of her and glanced toward the basketball hoop. “I had a good time with the kids. I’d like to come back.”
“Sorry, Cal.” Her conscience pricked at her. The boys did seem to enjoy having him here. But she didn’t want anyone this…corrupt in her center. And she was the boss. “You’re not the right fit.”
“We got off to a bad start. Let me try again.”
Two red flags stained his cheeks. He probably never had to ask twice for anything. She turned and headed toward her office. “They’ll find you another place that will work better with your skill set.” She closed the door before he could answer.
It took several minutes for Sarah’s clerk to track her down. Frankie heard Cal moving around in the other room and wondered what he was doing, but she didn’t open the door to look. It didn’t matter.
“Hey, Frankie,” Sarah finally said. “How did it go today with Cal Stewart?”
“That’s why I’m calling.” She swiveled away from the door. “It didn’t work out. You need to take him back and send me someone else.”
Silence stretched out uncomfortably long. Finally Sarah said, “Sorry, Frankie. That’s not going to happen. You’re stuck with him.”
“Why? I know you assign community service to a lot of people. Put Cal somewhere else and send me the next one.” Someone not so aggressive. So in her face. So disruptive.
“Do you have any idea how many CS people you’ve sent back?” When Frankie didn’t answer, Sarah continued. “Way too many. There’s always something wrong with them. I’m beginning to think the problem is you, Frankie. Not the volunteers.”
“I haven’t sent that many back,” she protested. “The last guy was making the girls uncomfortable. He needed to go.”
“You’re right, and I didn’t have a problem with that. But what about the librarian? She was perfect for FreeZone.”
“She wanted to reorganize everything,” Frankie muttered. “Do things her own way.”
“She wanted to help you,” Sarah retorted. “Take some of the load off your shoulders.” The judge sighed. “I’ve gone out of my way to assign people to you. I put you at the top of the list, but you always find something wrong. You’re not asking them to do brain surgery, for God’s sake. They’re playing basketball and helping with homework. How tough can that be?”
“There were specific problems with Cal today,” Frankie said stiffly. “He broke almost all the rules, for one thing.”
“You and your damn rules. Give the guy a break. It was his first day.” She lowered her voice. “Bottom line, Frankie. If you send Stewart back, Kenny will b
e your enemy for life.”
Frankie tossed her pen onto the desk. “What does your clerk have to do with anything?”
“He’s in charge of the placement list. He keeps you on top because I ask him to, but he won’t forget this. He’s a huge Cougars fan, and if you reject Cal, his hero goes to jail. Kenny will never forgive you for making one of the team’s stars miss the season. It will be a cold day in hell before you get anyone else.”
“What do you mean, Cal goes to jail? He was assigned CS.”
“I gave him one shot at CS. If it doesn’t work out, he doesn’t get a second chance. He gets four months in County Jail. I’m sick of athletes and their entitled attitudes. If Stewart doesn’t work out, I’ll make him an example.”
“Damn it.” Frankie spun the chair around and stared at the door, but didn’t hear a thing. Had Cal already left? “So I’m stuck with him?”
“Pretty much. Or you can send him back and turn Kenny and every other Cougars fan against you. And never get help again.”
“So I have to keep him.”
“That’s up to you.”
Every nasty word she knew, and she knew a lot of them, rolled through her head. “Fine. I’ll keep him.” She closed her phone without letting Sarah respond.
There were still no sounds from the other side of the door. If Cal had left, she’d have to chase him and ask him to stay.
She’d never liked the taste of crow.
She wrenched open the door. That character fault had gotten her into trouble too many times in the past. She hoped to God he was still here.
CHAPTER FOUR
FREEZONE WAS EMPTY.
Cal wasn’t here.
A dab of pink icing flattened on the floor sent up the sweet smell of vanilla as Frankie headed toward the front of the center. As she passed the basketball net, the sharp scent of teenage-boy sweat mingled with the cloying mix of the girls’ perfume. The place needed to be aired out, but she’d do that tomorrow.
Tonight, she had to find Cal and ask him to stay.
Maybe he’d already left.
She sprinted for the front door, then relaxed when she saw the white Escalade. In this neighborhood, a car like that could only belong to Cal.
“Looking for me?”
Frankie spun around. He stood in the doorway that led to the storage room and the back exit.
“Thought I’d check on your car.” She closed the front door, ignoring the flood of relief she felt. “It’s not the kind we usually see around here.”
“Worried about me?” He sauntered toward her.
“Worried about your car. It’s temptation on four wheels.”
“Not a problem. The alarm on that sucker can wake the dead.” He leaned against the wall a few feet away from her. “Were you afraid I’d left without saying goodbye?”
Her fingers itched to wipe the smirk off his face. “My luck hasn’t been that good today.” Damn it. She was supposed to be asking him to stay, not goading him into leaving.
He grinned. “Admit it, Frankie. Since money is off the table…?” He raised his eyebrows, and she scowled. “You want me to stay.” He nodded toward the basketball hoop. “The boys had a great time.”
“Yeah, you put on quite a show—the stunt with Ramon and the bangers, ducking in and out of my office to tweet, encouraging the reporters to hang around. The kids were on pins and needles, wondering what you’d do next.”
“Maybe a little excitement would be good for the place.”
“These kids get all the excitement they need.” She wrenched open the closet, took out the broom and began to sweep. “Peace and calm is what I offer here.”
He plucked the broom out of her hand and began to sweep the floor, nudging the glob of icing until it came loose. “The thing is, I can do things you can’t do with them.”
“Such as…?”
“Basketball. They liked playing with me.”
She reached into the closet for the disinfectant spray and started spritzing the tables, pulling the trigger so hard the solution spattered the chairs. “I can play basketball with them. Usually do, as a matter of fact. And I’m not a ball hog.”
He looked over his shoulder. “Ball hog?” His voice dropped to a low growl, and a chill rippled over her skin. “You think you can take me, Frankie? Get the ball. I’m ready.”
His eyes glittered, and she realized she’d poked a little too hard. He was a professional athlete. He lived to compete. “Nah, I’ll give you a break. I saw you limping. I don’t want to hurt you.”
His face lost all expression as he stared at her. The air was hot and close, and the walls pressed in on her. Then he grinned and began sweeping again. “I like you, Frankie. I’m going to enjoy working here.”
“I didn’t say you could stay.”
“But you want me to.”
She needed him to. She opened her mouth to tell him so, but the crow feathers stuck in her throat. “I’ll give you another day and we’ll see how it goes,” she finally said. “Since you asked to stay.”
“And since you asked so nicely, I’ll give you another day.”
“Fine.”
“Good.”
They worked in silence as he swept the floor in straight, even lines. He knew how to clean, she’d give him that.
Finally, when the room was ready for the next day, she replaced all the cleaning supplies in the closet. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I arrive at three to open up. Please be here then.”
He shoved his hands into his pockets and watched her. “I’ll do that.”
He didn’t move.
Neither did she.
Finally, she said, “Was there something else?”
“I’m trying to be a gentleman. Waiting for you to leave first.”
“I’m not leaving yet. Go ahead so I can lock up.”
Instead of hurrying out, as she’d expected, he glanced around the empty space. “You’re not leaving?”
“I have some things to do.”
“Like what?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I have letters to write. Bills to pay. Some phone calls to make.”
His expression sharpened. “Hold on.”
“What?”
His dimples flashed. “I have a proposition for you.”
She didn’t want to see those dimples. They tempted her to overlook what a jerk he was. “Not interested. Because if it’s anything like your last one, I’ll regret my offer to give you another day.”
“Since you’re going to be here, anyway, let me stay and work longer. I need to fulfill my community-service obligation quickly. My football team starts practicing in six weeks, and I need to be there. I can’t be late for camp.”
“We’ve already cleaned. There’s nothing else to do.”
“I could help do the books. Or write letters for you.”
Her surprise must have shown on her face, because his expression hardened. “I’m a football player, but I’m not illiterate. I know how to write a business letter. I know basic bookkeeping.” His face became cool and impossible to read. “How do you think I keep track of my own finances?”
“Based on what you offered me, I assume you pay someone to do that for you.”
Instead of snapping back, he drawled, “Of course I do. But that doesn’t mean I can’t do it myself.”
“I’ve always taken care of the bookkeeping and letters.”
“So now you have some help. You’ll get home earlier to whoever is waiting for you.” He raised one eyebrow, as if waiting for her to tell him all about her life. Which was so not happening.
He didn’t need to know that the only one waiting for her was the stray cat she fed in the eve
nings. And Frankie would not ask who was waiting for him.
“Fine. If you want to write thank-you notes, be my guest.” She turned the lock, then headed for her office.
He waited in the doorway, and she was intensely aware of how cramped her office was. With him so big and so close, it felt even smaller than usual. She picked up the ancient laptop she used, and a manila folder, then headed to the main room. Darkness had fallen outside, and beneath the glare of the fluorescent lights, the linoleum was a sickly green. Gouges and graffiti carved into the tables were harshly illuminated.
Frankie pried open the laptop and booted it up, then opened the file containing her letters. “This is the letter I use for thank-yous. The computer file named Donors has addresses. The manila folder has a list of recent donations. Include the amount of the donation in the letter. The printer is in my office, and it’s wireless.”
He glanced at the laptop. “This POS actually works with a wireless printer?”
“As long as the hamsters are running fast enough on their wheels.”
He grinned. “I like a woman with attitude.”
“Is that right? I figured your taste ran more to trixies, frat boy.”
Instead of bristling as she’d expected, he laughed. She moved abruptly toward her office. She had too much to do to waste time with Cal Stewart.
“How many of these letters do you want written?” he called.
“As many as you want to do,” she said without looking back. “I’ll be here awhile.”
She’d intended to write a grant to DCFS. But no way would she do that now. She thought about Bascombe and shuddered.
She’d call Emma Sloane instead. Emma was a DCFS social worker who stopped by sometimes to see Harley, and she and Frankie had become friends. Emma would be straight with her, and she wouldn’t run to the new boss and tell him Frankie had been asking questions.
The sound of a chair being dragged across the floor made her turn and look. Cal was lowering himself into one of the flimsy plastic folding chairs the kids used. His long body made it look like a kindergarten chair.
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