Bayview Heights Trilogy (8 page)

o0o

JOHNNY WATCHED THE WIPERS make a slow descent
to the bottom of the windshield as Cassie shut off the engine and
turned toward him. Then he focused on the bumper sticker she’d
stuck on the dash. Be Someone Special. Be a Teacher. He was trying
to avoid her eyes. He knew what he’d see there—the same
disappointment and hurt he’d glimpsed as she whisked him out of the
police station and into her car without a word and driven to his
seedy apartment complex.

“Want to tell me what happened?”

Tugging the nylon collar of his jacket up
around his neck, Johnny stared ahead. When he didn’t answer, she
waited. “I was playing pool with DeFazio at Pepper’s,” he finally
said. “Zorro came in about six, looking for me.”

“Oh, Johnny.” Cassie’s disillusioned tone
matched the look he’d seen earlier.

“I didn’t plan it, Cassie.”

“You’ve got to break off with them for good.
One foot in the gang, one foot out, isn’t going to cut it much
longer.”

Johnny remembered the six months he’d dropped
out of school. “You don’t understand, Cassie.”

“Then tell me.”

“They’re my family.”

“No, they’re not. They’re a bunch of selfish,
brutal punks.”

Which is why I haven’t officially gone
back
. “What’s going on with you and Lansing?” he asked.

“We were talking about the gang.”

“Look, I’m not a real member anymore. When me
and my mother moved out here, I left the gang. I see Zorro now
because he’s been my buddy since day one. I won’t abandon him.”

Cassie sighed. “You think they’ve let you go,
but they haven’t. They’re trying to suck you back in, and Zorro
will go to any lengths to get to you.” She hesitated, then added,
“I know.”

“He never bothered you after that first time,
did he?” Johnny remembered how Zorro had paid Cassie a visit when
he realized he was losing Johnny because of her influence. Johnny
had found out and had beaten the shit out of Zorro. Then they’d
talked. Zorro convinced Johnny he was sorry and wouldn’t do it
again.

“No, he didn’t. But I see what he’s doing to
get you back. My guess is he’ll go after DeFazio now.”

Lansing’s words echoed in Johnny’s head.
I’m not going to let your buddies recruit anyone from Bayview
Heights.
“What’s going on with you and Lansing?” Johnny
repeated his question.

He couldn’t see her clearly in the dim light
of the car, but he could feel her tension. “What do you mean?”

“He said you were with him tonight when he
got called about the fight.”

Cassie cleared her throat. “We were at the
same party.”

“Party?”

“A teacher get-together at Zoe’s.”

“Oh, sounds like fun.” Johnny’s sarcasm
lightened the mood. “I hope Bosco wasn’t there, at least.”

“Bosco doesn’t socialize.”

Johnny studied her. “You should have somebody
in your life, Cassie. Just not Lansing.”

“My social life isn’t the issue here. Your
future is.”

God, he hated it when she pulled the teacher
routine on him. “Oh, excuse me. I forget. You’re the teacher, I’m
the kid.” He reached for the door handle. She grabbed his arm. Her
grip was firm, but it wasn’t what held him back. Her emotional pull
on him always kept him from fleeing from her.

“Johnny.”

He waited.

“I am your teacher, and I have a right to
guide you, to try to help you.”

Staring ahead, he willed himself not to be
grateful that she felt responsible for him. Not to count on it.

“But I care about you as a person, too. As
your friend. You know how much you mean to me.”

He slumped against the front seat, feeling
like he was ten again.

“Please,” she begged. “Don’t shut me out. I
can’t bear the thought of you going back to the gang.”

In spite of his resolve, the words tumbled
out of Johnny’s mouth. “I feel good at school. It’s the
only
place I feel good anymore after losing my job at the
hospital. Lansing took that away and now he’s taking school away.”
He willed back the moisture from his eyes and turned to look at
her. Her face was drawn tight with worry. “And tonight made me
think maybe he could take you away, too. You know, turn you against
me. All I’d have left then is Zorro and the Blisters.”

She reached over and hugged him. It was a
sisterly gesture, one she did infrequently, but it felt so good he
wanted to lean into it. For a minute, he did.

“I won’t let anyone turn me against you,
Johnny. I promise. But I’m afraid you’ll let the gang turn you
against me. And everything else that’s good in your life.”

He drew strength from her closeness, then
pulled back. “That won’t happen.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Okay. Go get some sleep.”

He looked at her, cursing the fact that he
needed her—wanted her—to help him.

And thanking God that she, at least, was
there for him.

o0o

CASSIE LAY BACK against the cast iron of the
old claw-footed tub and submerged her head under the water.
Soothing heat took away the January chill. Surfacing, she slicked
back her hair and closed her eyes.
What a night
. First,
all that stuff with Lansing. Then Johnny.

Shivering at the thought that the Blisters
had come to Pepper’s, she reached for the hot water faucet in an
attempt to escape the icy fear that gripped her at the thought of
the gang on Johnny’s turf.

Needing diversion, she tried to clear her
mind and think about school. It didn’t work. Instead, she saw Mitch
Lansing’s green eyes, full of wary need as he confided in her at
Zoe’s party. She felt again the rough touch of his hand when he
tucked her hair behind her ear, the weight of his jacket on her
shoulders, the smell of him enveloping her.

“Damn,” she muttered, and dunked her head
back under. It didn’t stop the images. She still felt that helpless
reaction of her body to his maleness.

Maybe it was a good thing he’d pulled his Dr.
Jekyll and Mr. Hyde routine when the call came from the station. He
had an effect on her that she hadn’t expected and therefore hadn’t
resisted strongly enough. It wasn’t all physical, either, though
that was a good part of it.

The ringing phone interrupted her reflection.
She wouldn’t answer it. She didn’t want to talk to anyone. The
machine could pick it up. Despite her lecture to herself, she
climbed out of the tub, grabbed a thick towel from the rack and a
terry robe from the hook on the back of the door and padded to her
bedroom without drying off. She wrapped her hair in the towel on
the way and hastily donned the robe, then she picked up the
receiver.

“Cassie? This is Seth.”

He’d heard already. “Hi. Who called you?”

“Hal Stonehouse. He didn’t have all the
details, though. What happened?”

Closing her eyes, she repeated the story to
her principal.

“Hal said they weren’t arrested.”

“That’s right. The fight was provoked by the
townies that they beat at pool. Apparently, the cops hauled in the
kids because they were underage and because he suspected some drug
abuse.”

“Were they using?”

“Johnny wasn’t. I didn’t get to see DeFazio.
Why don’t you call Lansing, since you were so hot on having him
work in our building.” She regretted her words almost immediately.
“I’m sorry, Seth. I didn’t mean to attack you. This thing with
Lansing has been tough.”

“I know, Cass. I wish I could make it
better.”

She chuckled. “You used to say that to me
when I was in your class.”

He laughed.

“You do, you know.”

“I do what?”

“Make it better.”

“Yeah, well, only you can cooperate with
Captain Lansing to make it really better.”

“Oh, Seth. I don’t know. After tonight.”
Especially after tonight
.

“Try.” He hesitated, and she knew what was
coming. He rarely asked for anything. “I want you to try, as a
favor to me.”

“You’re so transparent sometimes,” she said
with long-standing affection. The doorbell rang. “Listen, someone’s
at the door. I’ve got to answer it.”

“Cassie?”

“All right. I’ll try harder with
Lansing.”

“Thanks. And check to see who’s at the door
before you open it.”

“Yes, Mr. T. I’ll see you Monday.”

As she headed downstairs, Cassie thought it
was probably Zoe spontaneously visiting her. She did that once in a
while, and Cassie was grateful for the company.

But through the peephole she saw massive
shoulders encased in dark wool. And the unmistakable frame of Mitch
Lansing.

Opening the door, she shivered with the blast
of frigid air.

Her physical discomfort diluted her surprise.
“What do you want?”

He scanned her from head to toe, his eyes
turning as dark as the forest at midnight. “I want to talk to you.
Let me in before you freeze to death.”

She was about to object to his peremptory
tone when she remembered her promise to Seth just minutes ago. She
said nothing until he was inside and the door was closed. To get a
grip on her irritation, she excused herself to dress and flew up
the stairs. As she donned an old mismatched sweatshirt and pants,
she tried to quell her reaction to having him in her house.

Filling the doorway, he’d looked powerful in
the navy wool coat that covered his suit. Geez, didn’t the guy ever
change into something casual? Of course, when you looked that good
in...

Stop it, she told herself. He’s not your
type.

Not quite true
. She took a deep
breath. All right, so she found him attractive. So what? It didn’t
mean anything. God, she didn’t even like the guy.

Pulling on socks, she admitted to herself how
she’d begun to gravitate toward him earlier until he’d gotten the
call about Johnny.

Johnny...

He won’t turn me against you
. The
promise gave her perspective. She couldn’t afford to fall victim to
Lansing’s charm. Too much was at stake here. She might have to let
him into her classroom, but she sure as hell didn’t have to let him
into her life. Heading to the closet for her sneakers, she
unwrapped her hair and towel-dried it quickly. She was in control
now, just as she’d been since she left this godforsaken town
eighteen years ago.

Mitch paced her living room, taking note of
the eclectic decor. Framed posters of art shows from New York City
galleries covered the walls. An enlarged photo of a pair of ballet
shoes advertised the Bolshoi Ballet. Another
contradiction—Cassandra Smith loved the arts. Taking stock of the
rest of the room, he noted her sofas and chairs were sturdy and
slightly worn, but looked comfortable. The two couches flanked an
old stone fireplace on the far wall. Crossing to it, he studied the
rows of books on either side, struggling to keep himself from
thinking about how she’d looked when she answered the door, wet
from a shower or bath.
The Complete Works of Shakespeare
.
A bath, he’d bet.
A Room of One’s Own
by Virginia Woolf.
Her high cheekbones were accented by the towel around her head.
Grisham’s
The Pelican Brief
and
The Firm
. Her
gray eyes were tumultuous. Lawrence’s
Lady Chatterley’s
Lover
. Against his will, he remembered how her breasts thrust
against the terry cloth; when the blast of cold air hit her, it had
made her nipples pout visibly.

Warm—too warm—he turned from the bookcase,
shrugged off his coat and adjusted his trousers. He shouldn’t be
thinking about her this way. He
wouldn’t
think about her
this way. He had to prepare for the battle that he knew was
coming.

“Captain.”

He pivoted to face her. She looked only
slightly less tempting in plain sweats. But her hair was still damp
and it gave him a jolt as he pictured her under the water as it
sluiced over. “Ms. Smith.”

“Sit down.” She studied him for a minute, and
the conflicting emotions on her face were like a neon sign. “I’ve
got coffee,” she finally said with a touch of resignation in her
tone.

“Are we going to be civilized about
this?”

“About this we are,” she said. “Would you
like some?”

He nodded. While she was gone, he dropped
onto the cushiony sofa and stared at the dead coals in the
fireplace. The grate looked well used. When she returned, she
handed him a mug. He took it and read its lettering. “Those who
can, do. Those who can’t, teach.” But the saying was crossed off in
bold red lines and replaced by “Those who can, teach others
how.”

He smiled.

“I guessed you like it black.”

“How did you know?”

“You’re a tough guy.”

“I am.” He glanced at her cup. “Yours is
black, too, right?”

“Yup.” She sipped. “Why are you here?”

Sighing, he sank back onto the couch and
crossed his left ankle over his knee. He silenced his first
response,
I was worried about you
. Instead, he gave her
the second reason he’d come. “I wanted to talk to you about the
lesson I’m supposed to teach on Monday.”

“We already discussed this last week.” She
eyed him warily. “Why do I have the feeling I’m not going to like
this?”

“I want to change the lesson plan, but I
didn’t want to surprise you. It’s supposed to be on drug usage—the
law, the penalties, some of the more severe consequences.”

“I know. We went over all this. What do you
want to change it to?”

“Inhalants. What they are, why they’re
dangerous.”

Cassie drew in a deep breath. Consciously
trying to relax—Mitch was astute in reading body language—she
sipped her coffee but held his gaze. Finally she said, “Some people
think that kind of information encourages kids to experiment.”

“Do you?”

“No, I think it informs them of the dangers,
especially if it isn’t instructive in the methods of doing
drugs.”