Most of the time, being a monk didn’t bother me. But today, a surge of lust and desire left me wanting, and the only explanation was Cherry. She’d invaded my thoughts. I hadn’t felt this needy, this out of control of my cock, since high school.
With my cock in hand, I pictured bending Cherry over, grabbing her wide hips, pushing down her pants and filling her tight, wet cunt from behind. I thought about Cherry’s berry-red lips wrapping around my cock. I thought about her riding me on the counter. When I came in the shower, for a fleeting moment, I thought I was satisfied, and I wouldn’t need to see Cherry again.
Except, I wasn’t.
I wanted too badly to know what she tasted like and what she would sound like crying out my name as she came.
After my shower, I pulled on a pair of loose basketball shorts, needing the roomy fabric over my still semi-hard cock. I had to get Cherry out of my head somehow unless I wanted to spend all my time hiding a hard-on.
Baseball usually did the trick, and the Jubilee Falls Coyotes minor league team had a game on the local access channel. With a beer in one hand and a needy cat in the other, I settled on the couch for a relaxing night at home.
And it would’ve been if my phone hadn’t rung. The unknown number on the screen didn’t faze me as I answered, “Hello?”
“Damon, it’s Jamal.” Jamal Stephenson was the thirteen-year-old foster kid I worked with through the Brothers/Sisters program. We weren’t scheduled to meet for a couple of days, but I made sure he had my cell phone number, just in case he needed me.
“Hey, kid. What’s up?” I kept my voice light, not wanting him to think he’d be in trouble. The kid spent too much time in trouble, but I never wanted him to feel like reaching out should be on the list of reasons he could do no right.
There was a long silence. I could tell he was keeping his voice down.
“I need help.”
My voice got more serious. “Where are you?”
Another long pause.
“Jamal, I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”
“I don’t want to get in trouble.”
“With me? With your parents? Or with your friends? Is this going to hurt your future?”
After another pause, he whispered quickly, “I’m at the school.”
Then the line disconnected.
I knew what he needed. I ran back to my car and headed over to the high school. I was glad I was in civvies since I didn’t know who he was with. There was every chance he was with a bunch of kids who were armed. Jubilee Falls didn’t have the crime levels of a big city like New York or Chicago, but that didn’t exclude the town from kids, who had too much time on their hands and not enough supervision or responsibility, racking up a few misdemeanors.
When I arrived at the school, I found a tricked-out Chevrolet Blazer in the parking lot. Jamal was here with a group of older kids. And I knew exactly who their ringleader was.
I got out of the car and checked the Blazer to make sure there wasn’t anyone hiding in it. I called it into the station, just in case there ended up being real trouble, letting them know there was a disturbance at the high school, and I was checking it out. I didn’t have my gun on me, but I hoped I wouldn’t need it. I was hoping to scare them off, grab Jamal, and let the cops on duty take care of anyone who needed a little extra persuasion to leave the school quickly.
I would play the bad guy for Jamal if necessary, but I couldn’t punish him for asking for help. He might have made a bad choice in coming here, but I knew better than most how hard it was to stop, to do the right thing when you were in the middle of doing something wrong.
I moved around the perimeter of the school, hoping I could figure out where they were before going inside. A loud crash from inside gave me an indication. Then I found how they got into the school… a jimmied open door on the south-east side of the building.
I slipped through the door and into the school, keeping to the shadows, hoping for the element of surprise. From the sound of it, they were just skateboarding inside.
I came around the corner. “Hey!”
The kids all scattered like water hitting hot oil, diving into classrooms. Only one kid came running toward me. I grabbed his sweatshirt and hauled him out of the school and toward the exit. Once we were in my car, I started the engine, and I drove us across the street to sit in the shadows and wait.
“What are we doing, man?” Jamal slumped down into his seat and crossed his arms over his chest, but the scowl didn’t quite match the relief in his eyes.
“The police are going to be here shortly. And I want you to see what happens to your friends.”
“They ain’t my friends. I don’t have friends. I don’t need friends.”
“I know you don’t need anyone,” I replied. “You wanna tell me why were you hanging out with them instead of showing up for our game?”
“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I needed something to do. I can’t hang out at my house all night long, waiting to play ball with a cop. I’m not a loser like you.”
I gave him a quick glare.
“I’m sorry, sir. You’re not a loser.”
“Thank you, Jamal. Why do you insist on hanging out with people who are just going to get you into trouble?” He had so much more potential than he was willing to admit. The kid was exceptionally brilliant, a math genius, or he would be if he would cooperate. He hated being the next Good Will Hunting, but the things he saw and the way he saw them… were amazing. He’d put together a formula, so he could play fantasy football and fantasy baseball with an edge, playing on adult leagues and creaming them.
When he wasn’t fighting his abilities, he would help the coach out. He’d helped run some numbers on the players they currently had on which ones would be best for the majors and which ones would never evolve out of the minors. He could work for the Coyotes minor league team if he’d just apply himself.
He’d done all kinds of crazy things just messing around. He read books and kept them under his bed, so no one knew he was reading. His foster mom thought she was going to find stacks of porn, surprised to find the books. The kid couldn’t get enough knowledge, but he didn’t want to be the smart kid. He was already an outcast since he didn’t have a family. He lived in the not great part of town and went to the school that didn’t get much funding. There were too many kids in a class, and no one was qualified to teach him anything. He could run circles around most of his teachers.
He was barely thirteen, and if he kept going down the path his friends were dragging him, he was never going to get out of the hole. I’d been fighting for him for the last six months, and more often than not, like tonight, I felt like I was losing the battle.
A couple of patrol cars pulled up and parked in front of and behind the Blazer, so the kids couldn’t get out of the school and escape. Our conversation was over for now. We watched as four police officers from my station went inside. A few minutes late, they came out with a bunch of kids in handcuffs. They were loaded into the police vehicle, and another two showed up. It didn’t take long before everyone was apprehended.
“Wow, they don’t mess around.”
“Contrary to what the television and movies show you, police officers are well trained and equipped to deal with the job.”
“Yeah, yeah. Well, I don’t wanna be no cop. I don’t want to be a narc. You think you’re all high and mighty because you wear a badge and come from a nice neighborhood. You don’t know what it’s like out there on the street.”
“Jamal, you’re the one who chooses to be out on the street. There are plenty of kids who don’t break the rules or the law. They don’t look for trouble. They join school activities and do things to give back to their community.”
“That sound boring, yo.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. He didn’t have an answer.
I couldn’t blame him. When I was his age, I didn’t want to be the good kid, giving back either. Like me, Jamal had been abandoned a
t a firehouse when he was only a day old. Because of that, he’d grown up defiant with a very large chip on his shoulder. He didn’t like being the kid who didn’t belong anywhere.
“Maybe, instead of always fighting against everyone, you might consider at least trying to find something that makes you happy. Something you’re passionate about.” As I said it, Cherry flashed through my mind, her smile, the kind way she took care of everyone who came into the bakery. She never failed to make me smile right along with her.
I turned the engine on again and headed for his house. It was well after ten. I knew his foster parents probably didn’t know he was missing yet. It would either come as a shock, or they’d be waiting for him to show up. Most of the time, they gave me a call when they knew he was out past curfew though.
“You going to tell them what I was doing?”
“I’m going to tell them you did the right thing. That you called for help. The cops already had a call in to the station before I called it in. The cops were coming, and I wouldn’t have been able to help you then. But you did the hard thing and asked for help. You turned in your own bad behavior. And that goes a long way to prove that maybe you are a trustworthy person. Of course, not sneaking out at all would be a better way to prove that.”
“Whatever,” he grumbled and turned to look out the window. That usually meant he was mulling over what I said.
I hoped I was doing right by this kid. He wasn’t a bad kid, he just needed help and guidance. since he spent so much of his life discarded, unwanted, and no one really seemed to care about him, it would take a long time to undo that damage. It would never be completely undone.
I knew better than most what happened to us as children molded us for the rest of our lives. I could never outrun my childhood or the mistakes I’d made, but I was trying to overcome it.
When we arrived at his house, I got out of the car first and waited patiently by the passenger door for Jamal to follow suit. The closer we got to the front door, the slower he went. He didn’t want to deal with what he was about to get into.
I rang the doorbell. I could tell that his parents had been in bed. Jamal’s foster mom, Jenny, opened the door. She glanced at me but turned her focus to Jamal.
“Jamal.” She crossed her arms over her chest, the silence filling in the spaces between us like a shroud. “Should I ask why you’re not in bed like you said you’d be? I didn’t even check in on you tonight. I thought we were making progress.”
He kept his eyes fixed to the porch under his feet.
“Jamal, answer her.” My voice was firm, but I didn’t try to overstep Jenny’s authority.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Jones. I went out with my friends instead of obeying your rules.”
She sighed and then looked over at me. “What happened?”
“Jamal missed our game, but he called me and asked for help. He admitted to doing wrong, and he wanted out of it before he got in real trouble.”
She put her hands on her hips. “Jamal, you know you can call me or Dan. We’ll happily come pick you up out of a bad situation. I’m sure Damon has far better things than to be answering your phone calls in the middle of the night.”
“I didn’t want to bother you,” Jamal said. I had a feeling Jamal didn’t want to upset his foster parents more than he had to because he was afraid they would kick him out. He’d been kicked out of three other foster homes.
Once Jamal was in safe with his foster parents, I headed back home, frustrated with the kid. There had to be something more I could do to help Jamal, be a better influence. Help him to see there was more to the world than either being a street thug or a stay-at-home loser.
But then an image of Cherry snuck into my mind. I saw her working beside me with Jamal, and she had a baby in her arms.
What the fuck was that supposed to mean?
3
Cherry
I hadn’t been at my apartment much over the last couple of weeks, other than to sleep and shower. But when I opened my refrigerator to make some breakfast and found nothing but condiments, I decided maybe it was time to start living there, instead of just going to the bakery to whip something up as usual.
I needed to do the grown-up thing and go to the grocery store. It was supposed to be my day off although I rarely actually managed to stay away from the bakery that long. Poppy was getting better at everything, though, and I needed to get better at letting go. We’d worked out Thursdays were the slowest days, and she wanted the responsibility, so she was running the store.
I moved through the aisles, trying to decide what I wanted to make for breakfast and maybe for dinner. It wasn’t like I didn’t have plenty to keep me busy at my apartment. I still hadn’t fully unpacked. I didn’t like the studio apartment much, it didn’t feel like home. I hated the white walls, the cramped kitchen with no room for a stand mixer, and the “bedroom” sectioned off from the rest of the living space without even a door to close.
Right now, it was all I could afford. But one day, I dreamed of a house I could call my own. Somewhere I could get creative, paint the walls, dance around the kitchen in my underwear without worrying I’m stomping too loud.
Until then, all my creativity went into Cherry Blossoms Bakery.
Moseying down another aisle, I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw Officer Langley headed right for me. His head was down, focused on his own list of grocery items, but I’d recognize those broad shoulders, dark hair, and muscular arms anywhere.
I didn’t say anything and quickly shifted my gaze, suddenly deeply interested in the varieties of canned vegetables spanning the shelves in front of me. I held my breath, hoping he would just walk right past and not even notice me. Or if he did notice, maybe he wouldn’t care. How did he manage to make shorts and a tank top look so good?
“Cherry?” The sound of surprise brought my head around.
Officer Langley was standing right behind me. Turning around slowly, I picked up a can of creamed corn like it was what I was looking for.
“Hi.”
“You know I don’t think I’ve ever seen you outside the bakery, aside from…” He stopped talking, swallowing visibly like he wanted to eat the words before they came out of his mouth.
“I do actually leave there every now and again,” I chuckled. “I know for sure I haven’t seen you out of uniform.” I was having a hard time not looking down at his chest, barely contained in the black tank top. I definitely had never seen him in flip-flops.
“I get days off too,” he winked.
“That’s good,” I smiled. “I’ve been told being a workaholic isn’t becoming.”
“Yeah, me too. Luckily, my best friend works just as much as I do, so she doesn’t rag me too much over it. Neither one of us wants someone else in the squad car.”
“Your partner’s your best friend? You do have it bad then. Maybe you should find a group,” I smirked. “Of course, I don’t know when they’d meet if everyone’s always working.”
Officer Langley chuckled and shifted his basket to the other hand. “What are you up to on your day off? Besides teasing a member of law enforcement.”
“Honestly, nothing exciting. I’m getting food since my cupboards and fridge are empty, and I need to spend some time building bookshelves and unpacking. I’ve lived in my apartment for six months, and I think all I’ve managed to do is get my clothes hung up and get some linens into the closet.”
“I know how that goes. I hate moving. Packing and unpacking are tedious. I wish everything would just find a home. But oh, no. It’s a pain in the ass. And I have no idea where anything should go. Karina had to come over and tell me where to put things the last time I moved.”
I hated how easy it was to talk to him. I wanted him to just be the cop who came in to get donuts all the time. I didn’t want him to be the kind of man who was attractive, kind, and someone I felt comfortable with. I didn’t want to feel comfortable with any man. It meant I was letting my guard down. And that was never a good sign.
I never wanted to be vulnerable again.
“Maybe she should come help me. In the kitchen, everything has to be exact. But anywhere else…”
“Well if you need some help with bookshelves or something… I’d be happy to help.”
I met his eyes trying to decide if he was just being nice or if he really wanted to help me. It seemed like a genuine offer. But if it was, what was his angle? What did he want?
“Hey, I know we don’t know each other very well, but I’ve been coming into your bakery forever. And I thought we always had some good conversations. I’d like to get to know you better. What do you think?”
I wanted to tell him to go to hell, but I found myself nodding. “I’d really like that.” I didn’t need help to put bookshelves together, I could do it on my own. If I really needed help, I knew I could ask Logan or even Poppy. So why was I so quick to take the officer up on his offer?
“Yeah? How about I bring stuff to make you lunch while you unload books onto the shelves?”
“Um, sure. That’s really kind of you. Are you sure you don’t have anything better to do with your day off?”
“Not really, no. I’m just going to obsess over my little brother getting himself into more trouble and trying to come up with all the ways it’s my fault.”
My brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“I volunteer with the Big Brothers and Sisters program we have in town. This kid I work with, he’s brilliant, but he’s determined to do anything but make his life better. He’s young, still has plenty of time to change his path. But considering I used to be this kid, I want him to figure out stuff much faster than I did. I don’t want him to suffer.”
“You were a troubled kid?” I didn’t know if I liked the sound of that. Did that mean he’d been a criminal? Had he hurt people? Was this someone I really wanted to invite into my life?
“I was. I definitely had my own issues. But don’t we all?”
I considered his words. “I guess we do.”
“All right. How about I give you my number, and you text me your address?”
For Love and Donuts Page 3