Child by Chance

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her he loved her.

  He said good-night instead.

  * * *

  TALIA DIDN’T WANT to take the sales promotion. She hadn’t told anyone about it. The question was, why? Because she really didn’t want to travel? Or because she was afraid she wouldn’t be good enough at it?

  One thing she’d never lacked before was confidence. She’d always known she could be successful in the sex industry. Even just the edges of it that she’d inhabited.

  She’d had offers of more. Plenty of them. They were quite lucrative and a lot of her friends made a good living that way.

  Talia had chosen to go to school instead.

  And she’d never posed for a camera. There were just some things that were wrong for her.

  So why the hesitation now that she had a dream offer on her plate? In her chosen field of study?

  She could visit all of the best and most famous fashion design houses on someone else’s dime and gain entrance into the most elite circles. Which would put her one step closer to her original dream of being a designer. She’d wanted to create and sell her own designs. Beautiful, tasteful clothes that would accentuate a woman’s beauty without laying it bare. And then she’d started working with the women at the Lemonade Stand—hoping to help them find their inner beauty through art. To encourage them to make choices based on what they wanted, not what anyone else told them they should do.

  It was Sara who had convinced her to take her program to the school board. It was still hard for her to believe the success she’d had with it. It didn’t pay. Might not pay for some time to come. But if she accepted the promotion Mirabelle was offering she’d have to give up on the collage program altogether.

  The dilemma of what to do with her future plagued her as she waited for Kent after school on Thursday. It had been a few days since she’d seen or spoken with his father. But seeing her little boy kept the smile on her face.

  Except that on Thursday, as he came out of school, he wasn’t smiling.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He settled his little preppy self with a sigh, fastened his seat belt and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “What happened?” she asked, her stomach in knots.

  “Nothing.”

  She was a driver. Not a mother. She didn’t start the car.

  “You’ve never lied to me before.”

  Those gray-blue eyes, so like Tatum’s, looked her way. “I got in a fight,” he said.

  She’d watched him walk toward the car. And did a once-over now. He didn’t have so much as a smudge on his knee.

  “With who?”

  “A girl.”

  This was bad. Visions of big teary eyes and bruises struck fear in her heart.

  “Tell me what happened.”

  “She said that boys don’t have best friends like girls do. Because boys do sports and fight.”

  She wasn’t going to touch a gender stereotype. Not at the moment, anyway. Not without Sherman’s input.

  “Why did she say that?”

  “Because the teacher asked why I didn’t have my math done and I told her because I’d just found out last night that my best friend was going away and I wouldn’t be seeing him anymore and didn’t feel like doing homework.”

  Oh, no. “Jason’s leaving?” she guessed. It was a given, at some point. On average, residents only stayed at the Stand for three months.

  “Yes.” The word was a short hiss.

  “Just because he won’t be at the Stand doesn’t mean he’s moving away. Maybe he’ll be even closer. And if not, you can still spend the night at each other’s houses. It would be pretty cool to see Jason at his house, wouldn’t it? And play with his things?”

  His big eyes had tears in them now.

  “He has to go to San Francisco to live with his grandparents because his dad won’t let his mom have their house and it’s going to be a long time for the divorce to get done so he can come home.”

  “So he’s just going away temporarily.” She drew out the only positive she could find.

  “Till the end of the school year, which is just about forever.”

  She could remember when three months had seemed like forever.

  “Maybe you and your father can go see him. Or maybe he can come stay with you during spring break or something.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. She had no business putting false hopes in a little boy’s head. No business at all.

  And she most certainly couldn’t offer to drive or facilitate the meeting, though she’d have lots of free time over spring break since she’d have no sixth-grade art classes to work with.

  “Yeah,” Kent said, sitting up straighter. “Maybe. I’ll ask Dad.”

  They still had an issue at hand. The fight with a girl. It obviously couldn’t have been as bad as she’d envisioned, considering the fact that he hadn’t been expelled.

  “So what about this fight? What did you say to the girl?”

  “I told her to go to hell.”

  Okay. Not good. Must be when the fight started.

  “Then what happened?”

  “I walked away.”

  “That was it?” That was the fight?

  “No, she told on me and I’m in trouble for saying ‘hell.’”

  Talia knew the situation was serious. That Kent would need to be disciplined. But she held back a smile, too.

  All in all, he was a good boy.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  SHERMAN WAS ASLEEP when his phone rang. Flying upright, he had his phone to his ear and was saying hello before he was fully awake.

  Before he’d realized where he was and that Kent was in bed asleep. Safe and sound.

  “Did I wake you?” The voice brought him to a consciousness that was buffered by the residual of dreams.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m sorry, I—”

  “I’m not,” he interrupted. “Talking to the real thing is much better than dreaming about her and waking up alone.”

  “Oh.”

  “What’s up?”

  “I guess I didn’t realize it was so late. I’m used to...”

  Late hours. Because she’d worked a night job. Once again he was face-to-face with their differences. They were elemental. And huge. He’d been to a strip club once. She’d practically lived in one.

  He was eleven years her senior and felt like a boy to her woman.

  “I debated with myself all night about calling.”

  “Don’t do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “Debate with yourself. If you need or want to talk, just call. I’ll answer.”

  Silence met his statement. At the moment he didn’t care. He was lying in the dark, his head on his pillow, talking to the only woman he ever wanted to have head-on-pillow conversations with.

  “I said something to Kent today and I had no right, and I want to apologize.”

  “I can’t imagine what it might have been. He was in a great mood when I picked him up from the Stand. Didn’t even seem to care that he was losing his internet and TV privileges for the night because of his language in school. He told me he told you about the incident in school. He has to learn to differentiate between what he hears and what is appropriate for him to repeat.”

  “It’s a tough world in which to be raising a kid.”

  “Yeah.” He supposed. He couldn’t imagine a world without Kent. Not anymore. His son gave life meaning.

  “So what caused the great mood?”

  “I’m not sure. He said he had this idea that maybe he and Jason could get together over spring break.”

  “Oh. What did you tell him?”

  “That
I’d talk to Jason’s mom. I’ll have to take some vacation days, though, and unfortunately, with the new campaign, time off is going to be hard to get. If Jason’s mom will let him come here, I’ll work something out.” There was a pause.

  “I’m going to be off that week—no school, you know. I could watch the boys for you.”

  “That would be great.” He didn’t even hesitate. “If you wouldn’t mind...”

  Because the idea of Talia in his home with his son seemed right. And then he woke up.

  “But...that’s not really fair to you,” he said. “I’ll let you watch my kid, but I won’t take you to dinner.” Not anymore. Not since he knew that her past posed a potential risk to his future.

  “I know the score, Sherm.” Sherm. Only one other person in his life had ever called him that. Brooke.

  “You’re not angry?”

  “What would be the point? I made my choices. I’ll pay for them. I’m okay with that.”

  She shouldn’t have to be okay. Shouldn’t have to pay. Her choices had been born from a life that no little girl should have had to live. Her impressions about who she was had been formed by that life. Still, he should let her go. There were men, good men, who could love her, whose careers wouldn’t be affected by the fact that she’d been a stripper for eight years.

  “Are you at the table?”

  “No. I’m outside. On the deck.”

  “Are there boats on the ocean?”

  “I see a bobbing light.”

  “Tell me about your first time.”

  “My first time what?”

  “Having sex.” She’d had such an unhealthy upbringing. And then...Vegas. He knew about her husband. Knew she hadn’t whored herself out, but...

  “Why?”

  “Because I want to know you that well.”

  “When was your first time?”

  “I was seventeen. A junior in high school. It was after the prom. I came as soon as I was inside. And we broke up the next week.”

  “She didn’t love you or she would have understood.”

  “We were kids. And I wanted to break up as badly as she did.”

  He pictured her on the deck, sitting in her chair with her feet up on the seat, staring out at the darkness. And wished she was inside with the doors locked.

  “I was sixteen,” she said when he’d convinced himself not to ask a second time. “I thought he was in love with me. I thought we were going to get married as soon as I turned seventeen and could legally marry without parental consent. I thought I was finally going to have a real home...”

  There was no call for sympathy in the telling—just a relaying of a memory. One that obviously went bad.

  She’d been a kid, like him. In high school. Experimenting...

  “Was he in your class?”

  Her chuckle was tinged with an uncharacteristic bitterness. “You could say that.”

  Sherman sat up. “Was he or wasn’t he?”

  “Depends on what you mean by class. If you’re talking graduating class, then no. In my classroom, yes.”

  “He was a year or two ahead of you?” Couldn’t be more than that. She’d been sixteen. So at least a sophomore.

  “He was the teacher.”

  He almost lost his dinner. And was so angry he’d have hit the man if he were in the same room with him. Bashed his head against a wall until it was pulp.

  “Your teacher took your virginity?” He had to be sure he was getting this right.

  Because it was very, very wrong.

  “Yeah.”

  “How old was he?”

  “Twenty-seven.”

  Eleven years older than her, then. The same age she was now. Which would make the guy his age.

  Shit.

  He’d been married to Brooke eleven years ago. About ready to give up on artificial insemination and accept that they’d never have a baby.

  “What happened?” He had to know. And wished she was in bed with him so he could hold her. Just hold her.

  “Tanner found out. Turned him in. He went to prison.”

  Something else she’d told him clicked. “And you ran away.”

  “The first time I ran away to be with him. The second time I left was the night of my high-school graduation.”

  “Was this guy in love with you?” He couldn’t have been. He’d have waited to have sex with her if he’d been in love with her. Because she’d deserved that from him.

  “I thought so. For years. Later I found out what Tanner knew.”

  “You weren’t the only student he’d...” Screwed was the word on the tip of his tongue.

  He couldn’t use it with her.

  “Nope. I wasn’t. I wasn’t even the youngest.”

  “Is he still in prison?”

  “I don’t know. But if he’s out, he’s registered as a sex offender. It was part of his sentence. He can’t ever work around kids again.”

  He supposed, as long as the guy left her alone, it didn’t matter. But he had another question.

  “So when was your second time?”

  “When was yours?”

  “Brooke.”

  “Mine was the jerk I married.”

  The older guy who’d offered a business proposition with separate bedrooms. And then forced her to entertain his friends. Red-hot rage burst inside him. It burned. And left him hurting and helpless to do a damned thing. For her. For any of them.

  She was one of the most decent women he’d ever known.

  “I...I’ll be home Sunday night.”

  His reaction was instantaneous. And physical. The switch in gears so swift he had no hope of containing it.

  “I’ll talk to Ben.” He couldn’t leave until after Kent went to bed. Sunday nights were family time.

  He’d have liked to invite her for dinner. But as things were now, he couldn’t afford to give his son any false hopes. As far as Kent knew, Sherman and Talia hadn’t seen each other in weeks. She was an art teacher. Period.

  As far as Kent knew...

  * * *

  “YOU’RE FRIENDS WITH my dad, aren’t you?” Kent’s question on the way to the Lemonade Stand on Friday afternoon was far more difficult than handling the fight discussion the day before.

  What had happened to those ten-minute rambles about who farted in the lunch room?

  “I know your dad—you know that,” she said. Were she and Sherman friends? Lovers, for now, but she could hardly tell his son that.

  “But you’re not, like, seeing each other.”

  For better or worse. “No.”

  He looked at her, his expression so serious. “Can I tell you something?”

  “Of course.” She slowed her driving.

  “I found something on the external hard drive my mom used.”

  Oh, boy. Foot to the gas, Talia sped up again. This was Sara territory. But Kent was only going to talk to who he chose to talk to. That had been the problem from the beginning—the boy not opening up.

  He’d chosen her.

  “When was this?” she asked when he didn’t offer up more.

  “I don’t know. A long time ago. Last summer maybe.”

  Before all the trouble had started at school.

  She had to push. In case this was the only shot they had. “What did you find?”

  “Stuff. Like emails and things. She...” The fear in his eyes when he looked at her struck her cold.

  “She what?”

  “She... I think she had a boyfriend.”

  Talia’s nerves went into a tailspin. She wasn’t trained for this. “What makes you think that?”

  “I read them.”

  “The emails?”

  “Mmm-hmm.” Hi
s precious face was so twisted with concern she wanted to hug him.

  “And you think you’re going to be in trouble for that.” She made a stab in the dark.

  “Yeah.”

  “I can’t say for sure, but I don’t think you will be.”

  He nodded. “I don’t want my dad to know,” he said, settling back into his seat. “It might, you know, hurt his feelings. But I think he might have had something to do with why she got killed.”

  “Your dad?”

  “No.” The disgust her question elicited was clearly obvious. “Him.”

  She turned into the Lemonade Stand. Parked. And sat for a second. “The boyfriend.”

  “Yeah.” He was staring at her as if she was going to know what to do with this information.

  “Did you tell Sara about this?”

  “No.”

  Because Sara wasn’t friends with his dad? He wanted Talia to do something about the situation without hurting his father?

  “Do you know his name?”

  “Alan Klasky.”

  “Isn’t that the man your mom had a meeting with that night?”

  “I don’t know. She was working is all Dad said.”

  Was it possible Brooke had been having an affair with the shady reporter? It didn’t fit anything Sherman had ever told her about the woman.

  But what if he’d been blackmailing her?

  Would she have taken her life to protect her integrity? Or her family?

  Kent might be right. There might be some connection.

  “Anyway, Dad came in on Jason and me on the computer when I was showing him the emails and I passed it off as just showing Jason pictures of Mom and all, and told him we were talking about her, so it wasn’t really a lie, but now Jason’s leaving and I don’t know who else to tell about it...”

  “Your dad has to know about this, Kent.” It was the only way.

  “Can you tell him?”

  “Of course.”

  He opened his door. She got out, too. They walked, just as they always did, side by side across the complex. She’d deliver him to his room. And go on to hers. She had three fourteen-to sixteen-year-old girls waiting to find beauty in their worlds.

  Opening the door to the main building, she stood back, waiting for Kent to enter before her. He did. But instead of continuing down the hall to see Jason, he stopped.