Bending the Rules

by Susan Andersen

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  I wonder what kind of mother I’d be. Man, talk about killer responsibility! There are just so many ways to screw up.

  THE PIZZA PARLOR where Poppy took the kids to celebrate the completion of their project was crowded and noisy. They found a table in the back, however, and the two extra-large everything-on-’em pizzas they’d ordered—along with all except maybe a pint’s worth of their second pitcher of Pepsi—were nearly gone by the time Jason arrived.

  She watched him wind through the tables and smiled when Henry, seated beside her, spotted him as well and hollered, “’Bout time you got here, copper!”

  “That’s Detective Copper to you, short stuff,” Jason said mildly as he pulled out the chair they’d saved for him and sat.

  “Yeah, and that’s Mister Short Stuff to you,” Henry shot back around a mouthful of pizza.

  Jason flashed one of his rare grins. “Fair enough. I did a drive-by of the wall on my way here and it looks good. Really good. So, congratulations on a job well done.” He included all three teens in his look, then added to Poppy, “Sorry I’m late. I caught a new case today and it kept me pretty tied up.”

  A curvy, five-foot-nothing waitress blew past two parties trying to get her attention and made a beeline straight for their table. She rocked to a halt at Jason’s side. “Can I get you a plate?” she asked, leaning down with a megawatt smile. “Or perhaps you’d like a beer?”

  Poppy bristled at the way the woman was, well, maybe not hanging all over him, precisely—but definitely sending out vibes. Do-me vibes.

  Still, she could hardly claim not to understand why, since Jase had drawn her own undivided attention from the first moment she’d lain eyes on him. He might be composed of way too many harsh lines and angles to be considered Mister Hollywood material, but he had chemistry to spare. He was just so…male.

  It must be that old hunter-gatherer thing. One look at him and a woman simply knew when it came to the three Ps—protect, provide and procreate—that he had the goods. And then some.

  A dawning awareness that Henry had stiffened next to her yanked her from the mental path she was wandering down. She turned to see what was wrong and found him staring at the table talker, which advertised beers from the bar, that Jason had picked up.

  Oh, crap. She’d forgotten about his father. And once reminded, she wasn’t sure for a second which would be less damaging to a child who lived with what she feared was a sometimes abusive alcoholic: to see that an adult male could drink a beer and not turn all scary on him, or for him to see that there were men who could have a perfectly good time without adding alcohol to the mix.

  Before she could decide, Jason simply set the triangular menu down and asked the waitress if she had any club soda.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, we don’t.” She looked at him with more regret than a failure to provide the beverage warranted.

  “I’ll just have a glass of water then. A tall one, okay? And that plate would be appreciated.” He turned to the kids and indicated the last quarter of the pizza. “Do we need another one?”

  “Heck, yeah,” Henry said.

  “Okay, and another of these,” he told the waitress. “I’ve seen you pack it away,” he said to Henry, “so I’m no longer amazed at the amounts you can eat.” He shifted his attention to Danny and Cory. “The question is how much more you two can eat. Should we order a large or an extra-large?”

  “I’m pretty much done,” Cory said.

  “Not me,” Danny said. “I could eat another piece or two.”

  “Then make it extra-large and bring another pitcher of pop,” Jason said to the waitress and pulled the pan with the two pizza slices still on it toward him and ripped off one. Looping the strings of cheese back onto the triangle with his fingers, he gave the boys that level cop look he did so well. “But one of you is going to have to wait for the new pie to get here, because this piece is mine. I’m starved.”

  Poppy almost asked if he’d managed to eat anything since breakfast, but bit down on the impulse in time. That would be brilliant. Might as well make a big sign that read Ms. C. is Shacked Up with Detective de S. and be done with it. Good grief.

  She watched his strong teeth carve off another bite and the muscles in his jaws bunch and lengthen as he chewed. And realized they’d probably have to talk about her feelings for him sooner rather than later.

  Because she had a feeling she wasn’t any better at this keeping-her-emotions-to-herself business than she was at lying to her friends.

  JASE ENJOYED the pizza and watching Poppy interact with the kids. He even did a little interacting of his own. Very little, it was true, but hey.

  A beer would have tasted good, but he’d seen that flash of fear on Henry’s face and no tall, cold brew was worth that. Damn all fathers who put their addictions above their kids’ welfare. There oughtta be a special spot in lockup reserved just for them.

  But brooding about things he had no control over was no way to preserve his mellow mood, so he shut down the bitterness that clawed for attention every time he thought of Henry’s old man making the kid’s life so insecure when his job description was supposed to be protecting his son. He knew he had his own issues with the whole dad-copping-out-of-responsibility subject, even if his father’s problem hadn’t been substance abuse but rather the fact that he couldn’t keep his butt out of the state pen long enough to do his job.

  Either way, Jase wasn’t going there today. This was supposed to be a celebration.

  The closer it came to winding down, however, the quicker his unaccustomedly laid-back mood started swirling down the drain. Because as soon as the party was over, he had to deal with Cory. And he doubted they’d get through that without the whole nine yards of teen-girl tear-soaked drama.

  Which, frankly, he couldn’t believe was making him edgy. When it came to his cases, his usual reaction to histrionics was simply to wall himself off and power through it. He sure as hell didn’t get sucked into that crap. But there was just something about these three kids that got to him.

  Dammit, he’d known all this one-on-one shit would turn around and bite him on the butt. And what the hell had he been thinking to tell Poppy she could represent Cory’s interests until the girl’s mother could be contacted?

  This was what happened when you got involved. Let down your professional guard just once and pretty soon it was slip-sliding to hell and gone.

  His teeth were clenched in impatience by the time they all stood on the sidewalk outside the pizza joint. Hoping the goodbyes would be short and sweet so he could cut Cory out of the herd, he eased out an exasperated breath when Poppy said with her trademark easiness, “Oh, man, I can’t believe I almost forgot. I’ve been meaning to offer you guys a business proposition.”

  Now what, for cri’sake? She hadn’t mentioned any business prop for the kids to him.

  “Okay, it’s nothing real exciting,” she qualified when everyone looked at her with varying degrees of anticipation. “I have a lot of painting I need to get done—décor painting, nothing particularly artistic. But if any of you would like to earn some spending money on Saturday, I’d love the help. You did such a good job not only of the wall, but also of all the grunt work that came before it. I’d be honored to work with you again. I pay twelve-fifty an hour and it’s at the Wolcott mansion, which I thought you’d get a kick out of seeing.”

  “What’s the Wolcott mansion?” Danny asked.

  She gawked at him a moment, then sighed. “Okay, now you’re just making me feel old. I thought everyone was familiar with the mansion and its old unsolved murder mystery.”

  “I can’t,” Henry said with palpable regret. “Shit!” He grimaced. “Sorry, Ms. C. I meant shoot. No—that’s weak. Uh, I meant…hell. That I just can’t, I guess. I told Mr. Harvey I’d help out in the storeroom Saturday.”

  The mention of Jerry Harvey broke Jase’s brood-on. Because the guy seemed to be adopting Henry. Several times now he’d had the kid do c
hores and odd jobs around the store for him. Plus Henry had mentioned Harvey buying him a piece of pie and a glass of milk at Slice of Heaven.

  Jase’s suspicious reaction to hearing the latter had been to run Harvey through the system to make sure he didn’t have a record. Henry had trouble enough with his old man. And just to be on the safe side he’d run a discreet check through a detective he knew in Special Assaults. Nothing had popped, and in truth Harvey wasn’t doing a damn thing that Poppy wasn’t. God knew Jase had never suspected her of anything kinked.

  That was the downside of being a cop. You saw too damn much of the ugly not to have it color the way you looked at everything.

  “Maybe another time,” Poppy was saying to Henry when he tuned back in on her conversation with the kids. “I’m doing the entire mansion and have barely made a dent in what I need to get done. So maybe you can give me some time when school goes to summer break. Here. Let me give you…” Voice trailing, she dug through her big tote and came up with a small leather folder. She pulled out business cards and offered one to each of the kids. “Both my phone numbers are on that. You can call me when you’ve got time and we’ll compare schedules,” she said to Henry, then turned to Cory and Danny. “You two don’t need to decide right this minute, either. Give me a call if you think you can make it and I’ll give you directions.”

  “I’d like to,” Danny said. “I’m not sure about this weekend, though. I think Gloria wants to play her annual mother gig this Saturday. But I’d like to another time.” He turned to Cory. “So you want a ride?”

  Jase braced himself to intercede, but to his surprise the girl shook her head.

  “Thanks,” she said. “But I need to talk to Detective de S.”

  Danny inspected her a moment, then nodded. “Good idea.” He turned to Poppy. “Thanks for everything, Ms. C. You turned this into something a lot different from what I expected. You’re really…awesome.” Color climbed his lean cheeks and as if to counteract it, he turned briskly to Jase. “You aren’t half-bad, either,” he said and stuck out his hand.

  Jase shook it, then watched as the kid whirled on his heel.

  “I’ll see you two around,” Danny said to Cory and Henry. “Good project.” He started to stride off without a backward glance, then turned back to Henry. “You need a ride?”

  “You mean it?” At Danny’s nod, Henry grinned. “Coolicious, dude. Maybe you could take me back to Harvey’s?”

  “Sure.”

  And a second later, they were gone.

  Jase immediately turned to Cory. Before he could launch the interrogation he’d been itching to get to, however, she cleared her throat and said, “I have something I have to tell you.”

  He blinked, momentarily thrown off balance. Then he nodded. “Shoot.”

  She looked around at the people coming and going on the sidewalk outside the pizza parlor. “Could we, um, maybe go to your car or something?”

  “Sure. Do you want Poppy—Ms. Calloway—to come, too?”

  She nodded jerkily and sent Poppy a nervous, uncertain smile. “If you wouldn’t mind?”

  “Of course not.” Reaching for the girl’s hand, Poppy gave it a squeeze.

  The three of them walked the half block to where he’d parked and he held the door for Cory to get in the front passenger seat and then the back door for Poppy.

  The teen sat without speaking for a moment after all of them were settled inside. Then she blinked her overmascaraed eyes. Wiped her palms down the pretty skirt of her dress where it draped over her thighs. Cleared her throat.

  Then swiveled to face him. “The night before we first started this project,” she began, “I went to the U district to see if I could find a good wall for a little graffiti…”

  CRAP.

  Crap, crap, crap! Cory scowled at the back of Detective Hardass’s head as he wove his car through the freeway traffic toward her apartment. Not about to ride shotgun next to him when he refused to listen to reason, she had insisted Ms. C. trade seats with her.

  They were going to her real address. He’d demanded it in such a you-don’t-even-wanna-mess-with-me tone after she’d finished telling him about Arturo and the jewelry shop that she’d recited it without thinking twice. Pissed about that, about everything, she visualized a burn hole beginning as a small smoking speck in the amber-brown skin where his dark hair met his neck, then rapidly widening to a huge, black-edged hole.

  And said for the umpteenth time, “We do not have to involve my mom in this.”

  His wide shoulders didn’t shift. His attention remained firmly on the road. “Yeah,” he growled with finality. “We do.”

  “Ms. Ceeeee,” she said, looking for backup from the blonde she’d come to admire so much.

  Poppy twisted to look at her over the seat. “Cory, I’m one hundred percent on Detective de Sanges’s side on this one. Not only does your mother have a right to know, she needs to know.”

  “Oh, big surprise you’d side with him,” Cory snarled bitterly. “We all know he’s doing you.”

  The moment the words left her mouth, she went hot, then cold, then hot again, feeling kinda sick to her stomach. She held her breath, hardly believing she’d just said that.

  Detective de S.’s gaze snapped to the rearview mirror and locked on hers as if he couldn’t believe it, either. His dark eyes burned hot beneath aggressively lowered brows, and he didn’t have to open his stern mouth for her to know he was not happy with her.

  Ms. Calloway’s expression, on the other hand, went very cool, which was so unlike her that it made Cory’s stomach pitch even further.

  “Setting aside for a moment that my love life is my business and none of yours,” the blonde said in a calm voice that held not one speck of the warmth Cory was used to hearing in it, “you clearly didn’t learn the first thing about me these past several weeks if you think sex—or anything else for that matter—could ever turn me into a yes woman.”

  Jason snorted and turned his attention back to the road. “That’s the goddamn truth,” he said under his breath.

  Ms. C. didn’t reprimand him for his language and she didn’t turn back to face front. She simply pinned Cory in place with a level gaze.

  Which made her squirm and duck her head, wishing her bangs were longer so she could hide behind them. Because she was ashamed she’d said that. She and the guys had kind of speculated their teacher and the cop might be doing the deed, but even if they were, Ms. Calloway wasn’t one of those females whose every thought originated with her boyfriend of the moment. She had never once acted like anyone but her own woman.

  But Cory was desperate. At practically any other time, her mother would have been working, so it wouldn’t have been as big a deal to be dragged home by the cops. This would have to be the day her mom had one of her rare half-days off. There was no way she could keep her from discovering the real reason Cory had been part of the project she’d talked about so enthusiastically.

  But all the same…

  “I’m sorry,” she muttered to her lap. And she was. But twisting her fingers together, she whispered to them what was really foremost in her mind. “I never wanted Mom to know I was on the art project as a punishment for tagging.”

  “Is that what it felt like to you, Cory? A punishment?”

  “At first it did.” Sneaking a peek at the pretty blonde, she was relieved to see that her teacher’s brown eyes weren’t as distant as they had been. “Not so much after I’d been there a couple of days, though.” She slid Ms. C. another sidelong peek. “It turned out to be fun.”

  “Good. Because I’ve enjoyed working with you. And I’d like you to trust me about something. You need to let your mother be your mother. Give her the opportunity to do what moms do best.”

  She heaved a big sigh. “Whatever,” she muttered. Because she didn’t think Ms. C. did know best in this instance.

  They reached her building way too soon. Reluctantly, she led her jailers up to her apartment.

  Her m
other looked up from the laundry she was folding when Cory trooped through the door with Detective de S. and Ms. C. in tow a few minutes later. “Cory?” she said, alarm chasing across her face as her gaze darted between the two adults. Setting the T-shirt she was folding on a stack of them perched on the arm of the couch, she rose to her feet.

  Detective de S. stepped forward. “Mrs. Capelli, I’m Detective de Sanges and this is Poppy Calloway.”

  The fear that having a cop show up on her doorstep had flashed in her mother’s eyes turned to arrested interest at Ms. C.’s name. She turned to Poppy. “Cory’s teacher in that art project?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Ms. C. agreed.

  “Oh, how nice to meet you! She’s loved being a part of that.”

  “And I’ve loved having her in it. Cory is very talented. We just finished our wall today. You’ll have to have her take you over to see it.”

  Cory let out the breath she’d been holding as her mother agreed that was a great idea. Apparently Ms. C.

  didn’t feel compelled to mention the manner in which Cory had been drafted into the project.

  Then Detective de Sanges shifted and she shot him a nervous glance. Because there was no guarantee he wouldn’t blow it for her. The guy wasn’t big on torquing the rules.

  But ratting her out must not have been all that high on his list of important stuff, because he stepped forward and said in a gentle voice, “You might want to sit down again, Mrs. Capelli. Because Cory’s got some trouble and we need to talk to you about it.”

  Her face losing all color, Cory’s mom reached for her hand. “Honey?”

  They sat side by side on the couch and her mother’s face grew whiter with every word Detective de S. spoke. But she slipped an arm around Cory’s shoulders, and hugged her to her side. When he finished, she turned and gathered her even closer, holding her tight. Pulling back a few moments later, she smoothed Cory’s bangs back from her face. Gave her a look filled with fierce love.

  “Why didn’t you tell me this was happening?”