Facing Home (The Clover Series Book 4)

by Danielle Stewart

  “Do you know how hard it is to find a place in the city that’s even remotely affordable? I’d be crazy to give it up. I wasn’t sure where we’d end up, so I held onto it.”

  Jonah, reading the scene, jumps in. “I’ve never been to New York City. It’s always been a dream of mine, but I never thought it would be for a reason like this.”

  “It’s an incredible place,” I say, beaming. “There is nowhere else in the world like it. Not that we’re here on vacation or anything, but if there’s time I’ll show you some of my favorite places.” This city holds a special place in my heart and I know I’m lighting up as I talk about it. I shouldn’t feel bad about loving it, but for some reason it seems to be wounding Click the more I talk about it.

  I reach out and lace my fingers with Click’s, and although he doesn’t completely reject me, there is a look of frustration on his face. I’m too tired to argue New York City rent controlled housing, so I start directing Jonah toward my place. I can see he’s not used to driving in the city.

  After the third time he brakes to let cars pull in front of him, I can’t take it anymore. You’re not supposed to use manners while driving here, you’re supposed to use skill. “Pull over here; I’ll drive the rest of the way. You’re being too nice.”

  When we finally get to my place we’ve all pretty much stopped talking to each other. We grab our bags and lug them to the elevator and up to my loft apartment.

  “It smells like piss in here,” Jonah grumbles, lifting his feet up one at a time and looking underneath the soles of his shoes as though he might have stepped in a puddle.

  “The whole city smells like that. You get to a point where you don’t notice it anymore. I promise my apartment doesn’t smell,” I try to explain as I remember what it was like the first time I came to the city. It is really an assault on the senses. There’s a constant clanking of metal and roaring engines of delivery trucks that don’t look like they can fit down the congested roads. It’s bumping shoulders with a hundred people on your walk to work every morning. Nearly getting hit by a taxi is a badge of honor here, and screaming the famous, “I’m walking here,” as I slam my hand down on the front of the cab is a favorite hobby of mine.

  I put my key in the door and turn it in that funny way I know I need to in order for it to open. Everything in New York City has these types of quirks. They infuriate most people but once you give into them, you fall in love with the city.

  As I step in, my lungs fill with the smell of the place I’ve called home for almost a decade. I couldn’t afford this place when I first got it, but I scaled back to eating yogurt and toast to be able to make ends meet. This place was the first thing I’d done completely on my own, and I knew if I could make it here I’d be able to survive anywhere.

  “It’s so small,” Jonah remarks as he looks from one corner of the place to the other. It’s a one bedroom, divided only by a partial wall. In reality, it’s a glorified studio.

  “Yep, but it’s mine,” I say flopping onto my couch. I’ve been away for so long and I know it’s bad, but I have the urge to go hug all my designer clothes and sit out on my fire escape like I used to on hot nights. There is nothing in the world I’ve ever seen that compares to the skyline of New York City after the sun goes down. It’s like the reverse of the night sky. All the lights are down here and the stars dull in comparison.

  “So what’s the plan?” Click asks uncomfortably as he takes only one step into the apartment and then freezes.

  “It’s four o’clock in the morning. We should all get some sleep and then Jordan can meet her contacts later on today,” Jonah suggests as he tosses his bag down and makes himself at home.

  “Cynthia Plante, Director of Deployment and Crisis Management at the EPA, is always in the office by five thirty in the morning. She’s incredible. I’ll get ready now and go see her first.” I pull myself up off the couch and stretch my back.

  “Are you sure? Maybe Jonah is right, maybe we should rest.” Click is annoyed but finally trying to come a little farther into my apartment.

  “You guys can stay here. I’ll have better luck getting in there before the morning rush and having her full attention. She won’t be pleased if I bring you with me.” I don’t dig deep enough into my own brain to decide if this is the real reason I’m not taking them or if I don’t want to have to deal with Click and Wes being in the same room later in the day. I’m sure eventually they’ll have to meet, but I’d like to have a chance to talk to them separately first. Even though I keep intentionally missing my chance to do that with Click.

  “Do you think that’s a good idea?” Jonah sits on the couch and pulls his shoes off, kicking his feet up on my coffee table.

  “That’s a one-of-a-kind bookmatched Cocobolo table. Can you get your sweaty socks off it please?”

  “Oh, you’re one of those,” Jonah jokes, dropping his feet down and correcting his posture so that his back is straight as an arrow. “Is this better?”

  “Much,” I retort as I head into my bedroom and open my closet door. My clothes. My gorgeous, far too expensive designer clothes are, thankfully, all exactly where I left them. Heading to my tiny bathroom off my bedroom I spin the knobs to my shower and start to peel off my travel-worn clothes. I don’t even remember where I got these jeans. Were they Rebecca’s from my time in Clover? I had to borrow plenty of clothes from her when my pencil skirts and crisp white blouses couldn’t accommodate the things we were doing there.

  I step into the steamy hot water, my favorite part of this apartment, and let it burn my skin. The water heater knob broke two years ago and so the temperature can’t be turned down, which is a blessing. I love a hot shower. It melts away every ache and worry, and for the ten minutes I stand beneath it I always feel peaceful.

  Well, normally, but when I feel a hand reach in and brush my back I jump as though I’m about to be attacked by an axe murderer. “Sorry,” Click says, pulling his hand back.

  “It’s okay, I’m just not used to having other people here. I forgot for a second.” Again, though it’s not my intention, my words seem to cause Click some kind of aggravation.

  “How do you stand the water so hot?” He rolls up his sleeve and puts his arm on my back again and now I welcome the touch. If it weren’t for Jonah I’d be pulling him in with all his clothes on and turning this into a much longer shower.

  “It’s not that hot,” I lie, knowing the average person wouldn’t enjoy this.

  “It’s turning your skin red. You could cook spaghetti in there.”

  I concede with a laugh and splash him with the steamy water. We haven’t had any time alone in a couple days, and I’m dying to come out of this shower and get him naked and wet too.

  “You know that’s only half a wall,” Jonah shouts from my living room. I close the shower curtain tightly, leaving Click on the other side.

  “I’ll be out in a few,” I tell him, rushing through the rest of my shower routine, knowing my ability to keep my hands off Click will be better if I’m dressed.

  After I’m out, a towel spun around my long hair to help it dry faster, I head back to my closet. There is no such thing as a walk-in closet in an apartment like this, but I’ve found every technique possible to maximize the space I have. I look through my outfits and pick one of my favorites. It’s a crème-colored, draped frock jacket paired with a matching pencil skirt. Underneath I grab a plum bonded satin slip top that hugs my curves. I don’t know what I’ll encounter today, but I know how to dress in order to make sure I’m bringing all my assets to the table. There are days I’m not proud of using my sex appeal for persuasion, but at least this time it’s for something good, not just to make more money.

  I move to the bathroom and layer on an amount of makeup I haven’t used since I left the city. I forget how polished it makes my skin feel and how my eyes pop when they are perfectly lined. My lashes double in length as I brush mascara across them. After a quick filing, I polish my fingernails and start sliding
jewelry back onto my fingers, wrist, and neck. I’ve missed the sparkle. My push-up bra, combined with the rest of my magically slimming undergarments, makes my outfit look like it was tailored perfectly to my body.

  I’ve almost forgotten how to do anything stylish to my hair. It takes me a few tries to get my large round brush moving in the right direction again. Finally, when everything else is primped and in place, I slide bright ruby-red lipstick across my lips and blot it against a tissue for the perfectly set look. Stepping back, I squeeze myself into the small space behind the door that allows me to see the full-length mirror. I slide on my far too expensive and much too tall high heels and look myself over. This is the Jordan I was for over a decade while working in the city, but for the last couple months this version of me has been buried.

  As I step out of the bedroom I forget for a minute that, while this is what I looked like when Click and I met, that’s not the case for Jonah.

  “Holy shit,” he gapes as he cranes his neck to look at me. “You look totally different.”

  “This is how I used to dress every day for work. Those weren’t even really my clothes I’ve been wearing in Tennessee; I borrowed them from a friend in North Carolina where Click and I met.”

  “Yeah, this is her real life here,” Click says as he flops down onto the couch next to Jonah and puts his feet up on the table I’d warned Jonah about earlier. But I don’t bother asking him to put his feet down. I know he’s trying to make a point. He’s over tired and stressed and it’s understandable.

  “More like this was my old life. I don’t plan to return to my old career, so I won’t likely need any of this stuff or these clothes.”

  “What do you want to do now?” Jonah asks, tuning in to the tension between Click and me.

  “I just want to help people. I don’t know how or doing what.” I twist my face, realizing I don’t have many answers. “I don’t know when either. I just know I want to do something that makes a difference.”

  “Then you two are perfect for each other,” Jonah says, slapping Click on the leg and leaning back on the couch to prop his feet up again on the table.

  “I’ll call you after I meet with Cynthia and let you know how it goes. After her, I’m going to try to meet my contact at the FDA.” Is omitting Wes’s name intentional? I won’t let myself answer that question.

  “I still think I should go with you,” Click offers, but I shake my head and wave him off.

  “I’ll be in touch all day. I promise.” I walk over and plant a kiss on him. “You two take a nap,” I break into a smile, “separately. You’re grumpy.”

  It takes me a few extra minutes to calibrate my feet in these high heels as I navigate the streets I used to love walking. As much as I enjoy being back here I do miss the quiet I’ve learned to appreciate in the South.

  The building that houses Cynthia’s office is quiet this time of morning. I hope this works in my favor. I walk confidently past the front desk and security guard. He checks me out but doesn’t ask me to stop. I learned a long time ago if you look like you know where you’re going, people believe you belong there.

  Getting by the front desk of the EPA’s office won’t be quite as easy. There is a pinched-faced, grumpy-looking receptionist who sees me coming and somehow manages to look even less happy than she did a moment earlier.

  “I’m here to see Cynthia Plante, please,” I relay with a wide smile that does nothing to soften the woman’s demeanor.

  “Ms. Plante doesn’t schedule meetings this early in the morning.”

  “I know she doesn’t, but I do know she’s here. She’s always here this early. If you could just tell her that Jordan Garcia is here to see her; I’m sure she’ll make time for me.”

  “I’m sure she won’t because she sees people by appointment only. If she didn’t then anyone could walk off the street and come barging in.”

  “Well let’s test your theory then. Nothing would make you feel better than calling back to her office and hearing her tell you to kick me out of here. So let’s do that.” With an angry grimace the woman picks up her phone and spins her chair around so I can’t hear what she’s saying. When her shoulders hunch slightly I know I’ve won. She turns her chair around and huffs out, “Go on back. She says you know where her office is.”

  “I do.” I try to make my smile appreciative instead of gloating, but I don’t think I’m successful. I weave my way through the large office, passing by dozens of closed doors with the lights off and head for the one woman who never seems to sleep. Her dedication is inspiring, and I hope she’s willing to put some of that fierceness in the direction of this cause.

  “Jordan,” Cynthia says, clapping her hands together as she gets to her feet. “I haven’t seen you in a while. Let me guess, your company has purchased an orphanage and wants to relocate it to a former uranium processing plant? You’re here to ask me to look the other way?” She’s always had a healthy appreciation for my directness even though we don’t see eye to eye. Her sense of humor even in serious matters is endearing. Although our jobs have taken us in different directions, we’ve had a lot in common.

  I toss my head back as I take the seat across from her desk. “Please tell me I was never that bad?”

  “Was? Past tense? Did I miss something?” Cynthia’s dark hair is in its usual tight bun and her almond-shaped eyes are lit up at the possible news.

  “I’m currently unemployed. The last deal I was responsible for brokering was in Clover, North Carolina, and I didn’t have what it took to crush a whole town of people once I found out how lovely they were. So I moved on.”

  “I’m sorry,” Cynthia says, falling dramatically back into her chair as though the news has bowled her over. “This is like hearing the queen has been dethroned. I’ve never seen anyone as effective at her job as you were. You’re the only person I know who always put in as many hours as I do. It’s your company’s loss, I guess.”

  “I’m sure there were ten people ready and waiting to take my job, any of whom wouldn’t hesitate to do what’s needed to make the company money. I was replaceable. To be honest though, I’ve never felt better in my life.”

  Cynthia looks at my face appraisingly as if she’s carefully weighing my words. She’s offered me a job a hundred times over the years. It’s in her nature to help people, which is why working here is the perfect job for her. She makes people’s lives better on a regular basis. “I’m glad. I’d love to see you start using your powers for good rather than evil. Let me know if you’re interested in coming over to the good guys.”

  “I might take you up on that some day. But I’m here for something else today. It’s of a sensitive nature. I’ve always known you to be a straight shooter. You are one of the most ethical people I’ve met, so I know I can trust you with this.” I pull the flash drive out of my bag and place it on the table. “There is some very incriminating evidence here about thirteen tobacco processing plants that paid off federal officials in order to continue dumping waste. And that’s just one infraction. The contamination is staggering, and I believe it’s already impacting the surrounding communities.”

  “Jordan, these are very serious accusations. Are you confident in your source?”

  “He’s a long-time employee of one of the tobacco distributors involved. He’s been threatened and physically attacked by people associated with the company in order to keep him quiet. I looked through the data quickly this morning myself. He’s got photographs, internal memos, and banking information. This is the real deal.”

  Cynthia grabs the flash drive and plugs it into her computer. After a minute of clicking and keying a few things in, her mouth falls open. “Oh my word.” Her face is as pale as her white silk shirt and her head is shaking in disbelief.

  “I know,” I say, my eyes matching hers in a look of incredulity. “My source is worried about his safety and that of his family. I’m hoping this can be addressed swiftly and the parties involved can be dealt with appropriately. The so
oner that happens the safer they’ll be.”

  “This would be the equivalent of the scandals in the early nineties that crippled these companies financially and put a lot of people in prison. Your contact is right to be worried about his safety. Last time something like this happened the whistle blower had death threats and his house was burned down. They’ll do anything to keep this quiet.”

  “I’ve told no one I was coming here. You’re the only one in the industry I’ve reached out to so far. If you’re nervous about getting involved I can move on and not bring you into this,” I assure Cynthia, knowing that question must be darting through her mind.

  “Are you kidding me? Let’s get these bastards.”

  “I knew you’d feel that way. That’s why I told you first.”

  “But you plan to tell others?”

  “Their infractions aren’t limited to your jurisdiction.”

  “What else are we talking about here? I can hold off pursuing my angle if you need me to while you get the rest sorted out, but I can’t hold this for long.”

  “I’ve got a contact with the FDA who I need to try to meet with next. I think I might need to involve the ATF because some of this might be considered trafficking of tobacco. I just don’t have a contact there yet.”

  “I know someone but I’m not sure he’ll meet directly with you. He’s a little guarded, but very effective. I think he’d meet you if it were through me. It would be better if we get all agencies involved together first and come up with a game plan. I’ll handle bringing in the ATF if you can get us a contact from someone at the FDA.”

  “A few more acronyms and we’ll have the whole alphabet here,” I joke, and Cynthia cracks a smile, though we both know how serious this is.

  “When you’re talking about something of this magnitude, people will act quickly, even if it is for self-serving purposes. Uncovering this type of scandal will garner a lot of media attention. If you’d come in here with less evidence or a smaller target it would likely take us weeks to get people willing to assist.”