It Takes Two

by Sheridon Smythe

  Jordan continued to argue, growing excited. “No, she hit him because he was about to say something. Didn't you see him open his mouth?"

  "They make sounds, Jordan, and her hitting him was just an accident."

  "What was an accident?"

  White-faced, Justine turned to look at Bea. She could hear Jordan's agitated breathing beside her and wondered if he would share his hallucination with his mother. She wasn't sure she could, not right now. Not before she had time to think about it.

  "Hi, Mom! I was just telling Aunt Justine that it looked like Mini hit Reuben on purpose."

  When he stopped there, Justine let out a slow, shaky breath. Safe for now.

  Bea looked bewildered. “Who are Mini and Reuben?"

  "The...lovebirds,” Justine croaked out. She cleared her throat and forced a shaky laugh. “They fight like an old married couple."

  "Yeah, and argue like one, too.” He grunted as Justine gave him a solid poke in the ribs. “Or they probably would if they could talk,” he added hastily. “But of course they can't."

  Justine interrupted his dangerous babbling. Bea and Clay would have to be told about Jordan sooner or later, but she preferred it to be later.

  She'd much rather jump off a bridge into shark-infested waters.

  "It says here that you eat fruit, leaves, insects, birds, and eggs.” Zack glanced up at the monkey perched on the ceiling fan blade. “Sorry, I'm all out of birds and insects, and eggs sound a little too messy. You'll have to settle for an apple."

  The monkey glared at him and chattered something in a language only he could understand.

  With a shrug, Zack stood and offered him the apple. After a slight hesitation, the monkey took it.

  Zack started to resume his seat on the couch when the apple bounced off his head. He saw stars. “What the hell did you do that for?” Zack demanded, gingerly feeling for a lump on his head. Good thing he hadn't given him an egg.

  He should never have let the monkey out of the cage; he realized it the moment he opened the door and the monkey knocked him flat getting out. From his dazed position on the floor, he had watched the monkey leap onto the ceiling fan.

  If he didn't know better, he would believe the damned thing had laughed at him, like Cheetah in the old Tarzan movies.

  "Look,” Zack said, feeling more than a little foolish to find himself talking to a monkey. “We've got a game to go to tonight, and you're supposed to come with me."

  For an answer, the monkey screamed as he leaped from blade to blade. Zack had to cover his ears, expecting his landlord to beat on the door any moment now. Thank God the walls were thick and well insulated.

  Finally, the monkey stopped as abruptly as he had begun. It was a pattern, Zack thought, and it probably meant something, but he doubted he'd ever find out what.

  "If you keep that up,” Zack warned softly—and very sincerely—"I'll have to take you back to the pet shop.” He must have been nuts to bring him home in the first place. Nuts, or crazy in love with Justine.

  The monkey was quiet, watching him intently. Zack walked to the fruit bowl and picked up a banana. He peeled it, pretended to take a bite, and made delicious smacking noises he figured even a monkey might understand. Finally, he held it up for the monkey to take. If the monkey decided to throw it back at him, at least it wouldn't hurt.

  But it made an awful mess, he discovered when the monkey spit the chewed banana onto the hardwood floor.

  "Okay. You want to play hardball? We'll play hardball. If you want anything else to eat, you'll have to come down and get it yourself.” And the moment he did, Zack intended to grab him and stick him back in the cage.

  What happened to the cuddly, frightened monkey he'd comforted in the pet store? Zack gave his head a bewildered scratch, wincing when he encountered the tender lump. The moment they drove away from the shop, the docile monkey had begun to rattle the cage door and scream loud enough to split his eardrums. Driving hadn't been easy, and he'd thought once they reached the apartment the monkey would calm down.

  His first mistake.

  His second mistake was in thinking the monkey would calm down once he was out of the cage.

  Giving the monkey the apple might have been his third mistake, but by this time Zack had decided to stop counting. He feared there would be many, many more mistakes concerning the monkey. Hopefully, none of them would require a trip to the emergency room—for him or the monkey. He wouldn't relish explaining that to Justine.

  How had he gotten into this mess? Zack scowled as he remembered who instead of how; Jordan Diamond, star quarterback for the Cannon Bay Indians, the most popular boy in school—according to his teammates. Zack had heard rumors there would be a boycott of the game tonight, a noticeable drop in attendance, and a definite chill in the air created by the faculty.

  Let them do what they may, Zack thought. They'd find that Zachary Wayne was made of pretty stern stuff. If hiring him to coach meant sacrificing his values, then he was in the wrong place.

  The monkey chattered something at him, gaining his attention. Zack craned his neck and gave him a quizzical look. “Sorry, bud, I don't know what you're saying. Wished I—"

  Mistake number whatever: never stand beneath a monkey who can't control his bladder.

  Zack cursed and grabbed a roll of paper towels from the kitchen. He had a bone-deep feeling it was going to be a very long night.

  Justine sat in her darkened apartment with the boa curled at her feet, Rogue purring on her shoulder, and Thor in her lap—or half of him, anyway. His tail took up a good portion of the couch beside her.

  She'd tried to exhaust herself after closing the shop at five, cleaning cages, scrubbing floors, grooming the kittens and the puppies and spending an hour just playing with them. She had even finished her inventory.

  Yet her nerves still hummed and her thoughts still tumbled over one another with dizzying speed. Her mind kept zooming in on two things; Jordan was on drugs, and Zack must have known. It explained why he didn't want to talk about it, but it didn't excuse him for not telling her. She was Jordan's aunt, a very loving, concerned aunt. This was not something Zack should have kept from her.

  Justine glanced at her watch, realizing for the first time that it was dark. She flicked on the lamp and looked again. Ten o'clock. The game should be over, and Zack should be home. Should she call him, or just show up on his doorstep? What if she ran into Barry?

  What if she did? Justine was angry for asking herself the question. Barry was old news, and she owed him nothing.

  Just as she owed Zack nothing.

  With an impatient growl, Justine moved Thor from her lap and slowly rose from the sofa, giving Rogue and Squeeze adequate time to move. She knew she would not sleep a wink until she'd talked to Zack. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe Zack didn't know, but suspected. Maybe kicking Jordan from the team had nothing to do with drugs.

  One thing was for certain; she wouldn't find out if she didn't ask. Feeling old and tired, yet oddly strung out, Justine put her coat on and left the apartment.

  She wasn't going to Zack for comfort, but for information, she reminded herself sternly on the drive over to his apartment. Besides, if she did discover Zack had been keeping something so important from her, she would be furious with him for a very long time.

  To her relief, Barry's car wasn't in its appointed slot in the garage beside the two-story house. But Zack's Ford Explorer was. Sitting in her van behind his vehicle, she stubbornly drummed her fingers on the steering wheel until her heartbeat returned to normal. Ridiculous for her body to go haywire at just the thought of seeing Zack! Why, it hadn't been but a few hours since she'd last seen him...

  Justine caught her breath as his silhouette appeared in the window of his apartment, then let it out in an irritated rush. So what if his shoulders were so broad she might never lay her head in the same spot? She drummed her fingers harder on the steering wheel. And so what if he could work magic with his lips? Not to mention his hands—s
top it. Just stop it.

  Zachary Wayne would like nothing better if she fell at his feet so he could start shredding her heart all over again. Oh, he would love that.

  She would not let it happen. She was steel. She was strong. He would not get to her again. Justine Diamond would never be stupid enough to fall in love with the same man twice. You've never stopped loving him and you know it.

  Justine shook her head at the snide voice, muttering out loud. “No, you're wrong. I loved him once, but I'm over him now. I'm attracted to him—who wouldn't be? And I—I can't help but like him. Love?” She gave a scornful laugh for good measure as she got out of the van and locked the door. “Not a chance."

  When Zack opened the door to her soft knock a moment later, the last words she expected out of his mouth were, “Did you come to gloat?"

  She stared at him. “I beg your pardon?” He was frowning, and the thought flashed through her mind like quicksilver; she couldn't remember him ever frowning at her. In fact, he looked tired and angry and defensive. Apparently she'd caught him at a bad time. She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. Well, that was just too bad.

  "Didn't you go to the game tonight?” he demanded.

  "No, I didn't.” She didn't go to every game, but she tried to go the majority of them. Usually Bea insisted.

  "Neither did a lot of other people."

  "I'm not following you.” Justine looked over her shoulder at Barry's closed apartment door. “Do you mind if I come in?"

  He stepped aside without answering, waving his arm in a dramatic flourish that hinted at sarcasm. Justine frowned. “I'm listening if you care to explain.” She had lot more questions, but it was obvious he had something on his chest as well. Since it was his apartment and she had bothered him, the polite thing to do would be to let him go first.

  She shrugged out of her coat and watched him as he ran his fingers through his hair.

  "You want a cup of coffee?"

  "That would be fine. Where's the monkey?"

  He paused and glanced back at her. “You came over to see about the monkey?"

  Her brow lifted at his irritable tone. She shook her head. “No, I didn't. Just making conversation.” Now she was curious about the monkey. Slowly, she turned a full circle, her gaze traveling over the area. No monkey, and no sound of it, either.

  From the kitchen Zack said, “Dennis is asleep. I think he's exhausted from all that screaming he did at the game."

  "Dennis?"

  "As in Dennis the Menace,” he explained grimly, appearing around the corner with two mugs in his hands. He handed one to her, then tilted his head to gaze at a spot above her head.

  Justine followed his gaze. The monkey was lying across the blades of the ceiling fan, his tail curled securely around the base. Zack had covered the monkey with a thick towel.

  "I take it Dennis doesn't like football?” Her attempt to joke failed to get the expected results. If anything, his mouth looked grimmer.

  "At least he had the decency to show."

  "Meaning?"

  "Meaning there were a lot of people not there tonight. Well, they were there, just not sitting in the bleachers. They were walking outside the gates carrying signs and shouting ‘We want The Diamond back!’ “

  Finally, Justine understood his needling comments, but wasn't certain she believed him. “You mean there was a boycott at tonight's game because you kicked Jordan...from the team?"

  "Suspended,” he corrected harshly. “I suspended Jordan, along with a few others. Apparently, Jordan's an extremely popular boy."

  Justine hadn't known about the others, and right now she didn't care to think about the implications or how they were connected to her nephew. Clasping her trembling hands together, she looked Zack straight in the eye. “When were you going to tell me about the drugs, Zack?"

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Twelve

  Justine's grave question threw Zack.

  He'd had the night from hell—make that a day and night—and now Justine was asking him when he intended to tell her about the drugs. Despite a gut-full of frustration, he laughed. It wasn't just a chuckle, either, but a full-throated belly laugh. Maybe tinged with a little hysteria, but a laugh all the same.

  She didn't laugh with him, just pursed her lips tight and glared at him.

  It was the rustling noise above them, indicating he'd disturbed the monkey, that sobered Zack quick. He took her arm and led her to the window. “I'm sorry. It's just that after the day I've had, your question struck me as funny."

  "There wasn't anything funny about it,” Justine snapped, rubbing her forehead as if her head ached. “Are drugs the reason you kicked Jordan from the team?"

  Startled, Zack gaped at her. “You were talking about Jordan?"

  "Don't play the dumb jock with me, Zack. You know that I meant Jordan. When were you going to tell me? Were you going to tell me at all?"

  Zack could see there wasn't any sense in arguing with her. For the first time, he began to realize she was serious. Dead serious. He led her to the sofa. She sank onto the middle cushion and he sat next to her. “What makes you think Jordan's involved with drugs?"

  "Because the signs are all there,” she whispered, her great golden eyes filling with tears.

  Resisting the very strong urge to pull her into his arms, he prompted gently, “Go on."

  "Well, he used to be so cheerful and nice, for starters. You got a taste of the new Jordan today."

  "He's sixteen. At that age, their hormones are skyrocketing—"

  Justine shook her head violently. “No, this was like an overnight thing with Jordan. And then—then today he seemed convinced that he'd heard the lovebirds talking to one another. He said they put a spell on the monkey, and that they were here to get us back...together."

  She bit her lip until it turned white. Zack reached out and rescued it with his thumb.

  "Personality changes, mood swings, and hallucinations."

  The tears spilled over and ran down her cheeks. Something twisted sharply, painfully, inside Zack at the sight of her angst. “Justine, are you sure? Jordan didn't strike me as the type to experiment with drugs. From the few weeks that I worked with him, I got the impression he was a health nut. Health nuts have this thing about not polluting their bodies."

  She rested her head against the couch and the tears kept falling. Zack wished she'd look at him—lean on him. The old Justine would not have hesitated to bury her face against his shoulder and let it rip. Not that she'd done much crying. No, they'd been too deliriously happy for that.

  This Justine was determined to keep him at a distance. He wanted the old Justine back with a fierceness that hurt.

  She finally looked at him hopefully, swiping at her wet face with the back of her hand as if the tears irritated her. “So Jordan's suspension from the team had nothing to do with drugs?"

  "No. I can tell you that much.” It took a lot of willpower to add, “But don't ask me to tell you more."

  "Do you swear?"

  Zack allowed a faint smile to curve his mouth as he planted his hand over his heart. “I swear that Jordan's suspension had nothing to do with drugs. I further swear that I don't believe Jordan is involved with drugs."

  "But you said he wasn't the only one—"

  "And by that you gathered I'd caught them smoking pot in the locker room or something?” He quirked a chiding eyebrow. “I never knew you had such a wild imagination, Justine."

  "There are a lot of things you don't know about me,” she retorted, her gaze narrowing. “And maybe my imagination wouldn't run wild if you didn't keep secrets from me about my nephew."

  Zack slid his arm along the couch inches from her head, relieved to see that she was bouncing back. “Classified information, ma'am."

  "Bullshit."

  He clicked his tongue. “If you were my student, I'd—"

  "I'm not your anything."

  Justine knew by the swift darkening of his eyes th
at she had gone too far. Why did she keep pushing him? Was she subconsciously hoping she'd make him snap? If he kissed her in anger, and she responded in anger, did she really believe it would absolve her of any stupidity on her part?

  "You were my something once,” he said, slowly closing in. He effectively trapped her against the sofa with his arms, his gaze locking on hers. “What happened, Justine? When are you going to give up your secrets?"

  His voice lowered to a seductive whisper. Justine closed her eyes, hoping to break the spell.

  It didn't work.

  There was still his fingers, which had begun to stroke her neck, and his voice, which flowed over and around her forming a sensuous web she didn't have the strength to destroy. His scent, so purely male, so wholly Zack, invaded her lungs and made them labor for more.

  "When are you going to stop fighting me, and admit that you still love me?"

  Justine's eyes snapped open. She couldn't let him get away with that remark. “Don't confuse love with lust, Zack."

  His brow arched playfully, but his hazel eyes remained dark with blatant desire. “The girl I knew called it love."

  "That girl wised up.” She licked her lips, then wished she hadn't when his lids lowered to watch the movement. Why didn't she just push him away? Good question, and one she wasn't ready to answer.

  Closer he came, until his mouth hovered a breath away.

  "So,” she whispered not only breathlessly, but desperately. “You really think I'm wrong about Jordan?"

  His sexy smile mocked her attempt to distract him. He trailed his finger along the gentle slope of her breast, creating shivers in its wake. “I really think you're wrong about Jordan.” That wicked, wandering finger paused on the telltale outline of her nipple. His smile widened when she caught her breath.

  She wasn't ready to give up. Well, she was more than ready, but her mind wasn't. Her mind was the smart one. She licked her lips again—she couldn't help it, he was making them dry with every breath that came sighing softly from his lips. “Then—then how do you explain his hallucination about the lovebirds?"