All I Want Is Forever

by Lynn Emery

  “I guess,” came the bland reply. “With all this work I don’t have time to check.”

  “Damn temp workers,” Marti said to Talia, then opened a door whose top half was frosted glass. “She’s pissed because I keep interrupting her social life on the phone. Have a seat. I’ll get us some coffee.”

  Talia looked around the roomy office. Located in the basement, the office suites of legislative leaders had undergone a massive renovation. Marti had beautiful framed prints of Louisiana flowers and swamp scenes to substitute for windows. Talia sat down in one of several plush chairs that matched the golden-hued carpet. Talia had not missed a name that rang a disturbing bell in Marti’s rush of words earlier. Marti came back with a steel coffee carafe on a tray with four mugs, sugar bowl, and nondairy creamer in small packets.

  Talia accepted a cup of black coffee from her. “I’m glad you could meet with me so soon. I’ll only be here a few weeks.”

  “You’d think with the session over I could take a breath. But no!” Marti sat in a chair on the opposite side of the brightly polished cherrywood table. “Enough of my problems. Mandatory sentencing.” She looked at Talia and took a sip of coffee.

  “I’ve read Senator Jackson’s proposed bill. He’s had a tough time convincing his colleagues.” Talia put down the cup and took a notepad from her briefcase.

  “Tough? We got our tails kicked.” Marti shrugged. “Not that we were surprised. The public sees crowds of thieves and worse getting out of prison. Not a sight to encourage the average citizen terrified of crime.”

  “So the legislators who voted to kill it in committee are ‘tough on crime’ types?”

  “It’s election time. Two high-profile violent crimes took place during the session.” Marti frowned.

  “Senator Jackson decided to back off until next year?” Talia looked at her.

  “Yeah, but there’s a lot we can do before then. I guess that’s where you and your outfit come in.” Marti gave Talia an appraising glance.

  Show time. Talia knew this tough lady wanted to know if she had a clue. “I have a rundown on the history of other states’ efforts to tackle mandatory sentencing. California is the best known. They were one of the first states to enact the so-called ‘three strikes’ law.”

  “Right. I—” Marti stopped when a dark-haired man wearing gold wire-rimmed eyeglasses tapped on the door. “About time, Jim.”

  “Morning. Sorry I’m a few minutes late.” The tall, lanky man smiled an apology. He held a gray suit jacket on one arm and carried a black satchel in the opposite hand.

  “Talia, I’m assuming I can call you that,” Marti said with a grin.

  “Sure,” Talia replied.

  “This is James Rand. Jim, Talia Marchand of Pete Gallagher and Associates in Washington, D.C.” Marti smiled.

  “Nice to meet you.” James Rand held out a long-fingered hand as he studied Talia closely. Monette’s new lawyer smiled at her.

  Talia tensed. “Hi.”

  He glanced at the carafe on the side table. “Bless you, Marti.” Jim put down his jacket and briefcase, then poured himself a cup.

  “Jim is the director of the Tulane Law Center. He has a national reputation on this issue and a lot of others pertaining to sentencing patterns, including the death sentence.”

  “So I’ve heard.” Talia took a deep breath.

  Jim sat next to Talia. He drank deeply and sighed. “So what have I missed so far?”

  “Talia has been doing her homework on other states.” Marti nodded with an expression of approval.

  “I’ve read several of your articles on the subject, Professor Rand.”

  “Even the most cursory examination shows the obvious; poor people end up in jail more often and with longer sentences.” Jim set his mug down with a thump.

  “Which doesn’t mean they’re not guilty,” Talia said. “Something the critics are quick to point out.”

  “We’re not trying to help people get away with crimes. If one segment of the population committing similar offenses gets the benefit of probation, shouldn’t everyone?” He leaned forward.

  “Okay, granted. But people should be held accountable for breaking the law.” Talia lifted a shoulder.

  “I thought she was here to help us.” Jim wore a crooked grin as he drank more coffee.

  “I see her point, Jim. We have to answer the opponents,” Marti replied.

  “Exactly, especially since they have valid arguments,” Talia said. “There is no such thing as a victimless crime when you get right down to it.”

  “Not everyone sent to prison is guilty. Even those who did the crime shouldn’t do the time longer because they’re poor or Black,” Jim countered.

  “Liberals use those arguments. They’re not in control at the moment.”

  “Don’t I know it.” Jim looked at Talia hard again. “I hear your firm usually comes down on the right of most issues.”

  “True, but my boss doesn’t follow strict party lines. Pete likes to make his own decisions on individual issues.” Talia took another folder from her briefcase.

  “What about you?” Jim’s bushy eyebrows arched over his dark eyes.

  Talia decided honesty was the best route to take. “I’ll admit to mixed feelings on the issue.”

  “Have you been the victim of a crime?” he asked.

  “We all pay one way or another,” Talia said smoothly.

  “Well, I’ve been a victim. Some little creeps broke into my condo six years ago. I’d like to get my hands on ’em, too!” Marti wore a fierce expression.

  “There you go. A typical gut reaction to crime.” Talia nodded at Marti. “You’ve got to do a lot better than trying to get the public to feel sorry for convicted felons.” She wanted to steer them away from the personal.

  “Which is why I’m interested in your thoughts.” Marti got up and poured more coffee into her mug.

  “The wording in Senator Jackson’s bill should change. Take the bite out of your opponent’s best argument.” Talia glanced from Marti to Jim Rand. “Emphasize getting tough on crime.”

  “What?” Jim wore a puzzled frown. He took off his glasses.

  “You’re joking.” Marti blinked at her.

  Talia sat forward. “Listen, I’ve seen the polls from his district. The biggest fear after job security is crime. Some of the poorest neighborhoods are held hostage by drug dealers.”

  “Yes, but they also have suffered the highest rate of incarceration. They see the ugly side of the law when it jails their kids,” Jim said, pointing at her with his glasses in one hand.

  “Most of those people, Professor Rand, are the victims of these so-called kids. While mama is trying to get her little darlin’ out of prison, her neighbors are inside dancing for joy.” Talia met his gaze head-on. “I grew up in the same kind of place.”

  “I’m not disputing the impact of crime, but—”

  “You can’t ignore it either,” Talia broke in. She turned to Marti. “The opening of the bill starts out talking about how long sentences don’t change crime rates. Then it goes on about the need for social services. I say begin with the need to concentrate limited law enforcement dollars on the most heinous offenders.”

  “I don’t know. Senator Jackson has always been a vocal advocate for rehabilitation and crime prevention.” Marti’s neatly arched eyebrows drew together in concentration. “His base of support is mixed, but more liberal on the issue.”

  “Not when specific questions are asked.” Talia pulled another report from her briefcase. “His constituency is 37 percent African-American. They’re conservative on several issues, rising crime is one.”

  “He recently met with a coalition of Black leaders who are concerned about racial profiling.” Marti shook her head. “I’m not sure he’ll go for it.”

  “Show him the numbers,” Talia said, and tapped the report with a forefinger. “He can still address community programs to prevent crime. As you said, it’s election time.”

 
; “You seem pretty conservative on this issue, Talia.” Jim Rand eyed her with interest.

  Talia’s heart thumped. “I’m not that different from the people Senator Jackson represents.”

  “Let’s talk specifics. Give me bullet points to cover with him,” Marti said.

  “Sure.”

  Talia hadn’t worked on the Hill without learning the value of distilling complex information down to basics. Most lawmakers depended on their staff to help them navigate complicated issues. For an hour and a half, they went over all twelve of the short paragraphs she’d written. Jim argued that race and economics as factors should be included. Talia stood her ground despite the glances he gave her from time to time. At the end of the meeting he followed her out. They went through a side exit door toward the parking lot. Bright September sunshine bounced heat waves up from the concrete surface.

  “Good-bye, Professor Rand.”

  “Good-bye, Ms. Marchand. We’ve met before I think.” He gazed at her with one finger on his bottom lip. “I was in D.C. last year for a symposium on prison reform.”

  “We’ve never been involved in prison reform.” Talia put on her sunglasses as a shield.

  “I see.” Jim studied her for a moment longer then smiled. “Well, we’ve had an eye-opening discussion. I suppose you think I’m a typical white liberal from the ivory tower of academia.”

  Talia smiled slightly. “It helps to see all sides of a question.”

  “As long as we don’t become the enemy. I don’t want Kelvin to draft a bill that adds to the problem,” he replied.

  “The problem is getting people to take responsibility for their families and themselves.” Talia extended a hand. “Nice to have met you.” She hoped it would be the last time.

  “Same here.” He shook her hand and walked away.

  “Lord, just let me get Mama Rose taken care of and out of this state,” Talia muttered. She pressed the remote on her key ring, which opened her rented red Pontiac Grand Prix.

  Derrick stared at her. “What’s on your mind? It sure isn’t what’s left in the bottom of your cup.”

  They were seated in CC’s Coffee Shop in downtown Baton Rouge. They’d been to a jazz performance at M’s Fine and Mellow Café earlier. Now they sat at an outside table enjoying a breeze from the water. The riverfront was alive with strolling couples and families. CC’s was in a renovated parking garage, with a view of the Mississippi River. The large bridge linking East and West Baton Rouge Parishes was strung with white lights. Traffic across it was barely visible. The cars and trucks looked like toys in the distance. Talia couldn’t help but smile at him.

  “You’ve got more answers than Miss Cleo,” she teased, referring to the colorful psychic.

  “Ah, darlin’, I see what’s goin’ ahn,” Derrick said, imitating Miss Cleo’s Caribbean accent.

  Talia laughed. “What do the cards tell you?”

  “That you’ve been working too hard for one thing. Slow down.”

  She sighed and sat back in her chair. “I’d like nothing better. I’ve got as much to do here as I had back in Washington.”

  “You take on a lot because you enjoy the fast pace.”

  “You and your boss got me into this whole sentencing issue,” Talia replied with a raised eyebrow.

  “If I’m the reason you’re back home, then I won’t complain.” His deep voice issued a sultry invitation.

  Talia breathed hard as they stared into each other’s eyes. The gray cotton sweater she wore seemed too hot suddenly. She squirmed in her chair as a tickle of lust surged up the insides of her thighs.

  “I’ll be gone in about three weeks.” She looked out at the levee.

  “So you keep reminding me. We have dinner, and you mention it. We go see a play, and you mention it.” Derrick heaved a deep sigh. “I think I’ve got it, Talia.”

  “Sorry.” She felt a stab of guilt at the sadness in his tone. “I didn’t mean to beat a dead horse.”

  “Maybe you’re trying to convince yourself?”

  Talia toyed with a paper napkin. “I don’t understand why you got hooked up in crime fighting after all we’ve been through,” she said quietly.

  “You mean avoid the kinds of people and places we grew up with, right?” Derrick shrugged. “I want to make a difference.”

  “Don’t you get sick of the criminals, the lies, the sordid stories? We lived it.” Talia grimaced at the memories.

  “I’m not sure I can explain it.” Derrick shook his head slowly. “I think we need to be involved in the criminal justice system. I guess because it had such a big impact on my life.”

  “C’mon, there are thousands of careers.” Talia gazed at him.

  “I’m not a desk job guy. I like being on the move and in the thick of things.” Derrick smiled. “That paralegal course while I was at the community college got me hooked.”

  “You could have been a lawyer. With your brains you’d make a truckload of money.” Talia leaned toward him. “My friend Jarrod—”

  “I don’t want to wear a suit and do lunch. I’m not into being upwardly mobile.”

  “There is nothing wrong with the good life,” Talia shot back.

  “You want a guy who can give you a luxury town house and theater trips to New York. I got ya.” Derrick sat back in his chair and gazed past her to the river.

  “So I’m superficial, is that it?” Talia ground her back teeth together. “Well, excuse me. I had my fill of living in the ’hood.”

  “I want to work to make sure that when the bad guys go to jail, it sticks,” Derrick said, lowering his voice.

  Talia looked at him through narrowed eyes. “You’ve just sublimated your addiction to adrenaline into fighting crime. I knew you when, Derrick. Well, who died and appointed you Batman?”

  “I can’t believe this!” Derrick waved a hand in the air.

  “Mama Rose told me all about how you helped catch some dangerous thugs. Your mother must worry herself sick.” Talia pushed the ceramic mug aside.

  “Mama understands my work.”

  “Of course that’s what she’s going to tell you.” Talia rubbed her forehead. “It’s so inconsiderate. Who the hell wants to sit up nights wondering if you’re dead?”

  He reached out and took her hand down from her face. “I’m not in that much danger. You wouldn’t have to worry.”

  “Run around jumping in front of bullets if you want. I’ll take my nice boring office job and my nice boring life, thank you very much.” Talia tried not to answer the silent call into a tender moment from his touch. She avoided meeting his gaze.

  “Nothing is going to happen to me. I promise,” Derrick whispered.

  “You don’t know the future, so why take chances?” Talia tried to pull her hand away, but he held on tight. “And then there’s my dear jailbird mother. God, I wish Mama Rose would come live with me!”

  Derrick sat straight. “Something’s up. Tell me what happened.”

  Talia shook her head. “I went to a meeting with Representative Jackson’s assistant, and Professor Rand was there.”

  “He knows you’re Monette’s daughter?”

  “No. Maybe he’s seen pictures of me when I was a kid. Monette has some, I know. He kept trying to figure out why I looked familiar.”

  “Monette is real serious about protecting you. I don’t see her showing pictures of you even as a little girl.” Derrick frowned. “I have a feeling whatever she’s holding back is heavy.”

  “You should know not to listen to Monette. If I had a dime for every lie she’s told, I’d be set for life.” Talia gave a bitter laugh.

  “He just saw the resemblance. You look a lot like her.” Derrick squeezed her hand as he tilted his head to one side. “But your eyes are a lighter shade of brown. Like walnut. Your hair is darker and shiny, like rich mocha coffee.”

  “I missed you so much,” she said in a strangled voice. Talia couldn’t have stopped the admission if she’d tried.

  “I know, I k
now,” Derrick murmured.

  Talia closed her eyes and pressed his hand against her breasts. Derrick whispered her name twice, then kissed her. He nibbled her lips as though savoring a sweet taste. She sighed at the tender attention he gave to exploring the inside of her mouth. His response to her seemed instinctive, as if he knew exactly how she needed to be kissed. When they finally parted, Talia had no doubts. She was in danger of falling in love with the man with the same intensity she’d loved the boy. Still, she didn’t move away when he rested his forehead against hers. She didn’t have the strength to resist right now. She felt safe with him.

  “Derrick—”

  “I know, you’re going back to D.C.,” he said, and took a deep breath.

  “I was going to suggest we leave now.” Talia looked into his eyes.

  “My house is too far away. It will take us a good forty minutes to get there.” His eyes gleamed with desire. Derrick lived fifteen miles from Rougon, in the larger town of New Roads.

  “There’s a nice new Sheraton Hotel five minutes from here.” Talia nodded toward the tall building that was part of the nearby Argosy Casino complex.

  Derrick kissed her hands and took a slow, deep breath. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but we should wait. I want us both to be sure.”

  “You’re not?”

  “It was hell letting you go the first time. I don’t know if I can take it again.” Derrick released his hold on her.

  “I’m sorry. All I seem to do is think about myself.” Talia felt stinging regret at the hurt she had caused him.

  “I know you need to leave.” Derrick tapped his temple with a forefinger. “My brain knows that it’s best for you. But my emotions get so caught up.”

  “So we’re stuck? I don’t think so.” Talia shook her head. “We can have right now, and let tomorrow take care of itself.”

  “Live for today.” Derrick seemed to turn over the words in his mind.

  “We need to get to know each other all over again. I say we take the next few weeks to explore.”

  Talia tingled with anticipation. She felt like a wily seductress. Yet the look in his eyes told her how much he wanted to be seduced. They were poised for a long free fall into passion. Maybe the pleasure would be worth the pain.