New Life (24 page)

“I don’t care how small it is, I’d be happy
to have it. My year at the halfway house is about up, then I’ll
have to find an apartment. Right now I can’t afford anything. I’d
as soon not end up in the tent city under the highway bridge or
begging for help from MPRI.”

“Who?”

“The um, prisoner re-entry initiative.”

Could he sound more pathetic? He was trash
swirling around a storm drain. His life was humiliating right now.
In some ways he’d actually felt better in prison, where he was used
to the routine and his place in the pecking order. Out here
anything might happen, and he was reduced to begging for scraps or
making a dumbass mistake and violating parole. Hell, no wonder more
than half of all inmates fucked up and ended up back inside.

Well, that wouldn’t be him. He’d more than
learned his lesson and was through trying for easy money, which
always led to stupid decisions.

A slight frown puckered Mary Scott’s
perfectly arched eyebrows. “The room’s yours then. You can move in
and start in a couple of days if you want.” She rose and that was
Luke’s signal to stand too. She extended her hand, her smooth palm
sliding against his, gave a firm pump then let go. It had been so
long since he’d shaken anyone’s hand, let alone a woman’s, that
he’d forgotten how good the simple contact felt.

“Thanks again for the job. I really
appreciate it.” Luke picked up his jacket and headed for the door,
feeling her eyes on him. He wanted to look back at her but waited
until he was outside, then glanced sideways through the window.

Mary Scott stood where he’d left her and she
was watching him leave, probably regretting her decision. She
pushed back her honey-blond-streaked brown hair then bent to the
table to pick up the cups of coffee neither of them had drunk.

Luke lost sight of her as he passed the
window and walked down the crowded sidewalk. He felt a tremor of an
unfamiliar feeling. Not anxiety, dread or fear, although this had
the same prickly edge. It took him a few seconds to identify the
unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach as anticipation—maybe
mingled with a glimmer of hope.

Mary didn’t regret her promise to Joann to
interview Lucas Bailey, but she wasn’t feeling too comfortable
about her new employee either. Bailey appeared rough, not in
physical appearance so much—his dark hair was clean, his face
shaven and he didn’t even have any visible tattoos—but in his
manner. He’d be more fitting as a bouncer than a bartender, not
that her place had ever needed a bouncer.

It wasn’t that the man was huge and hulking,
but she sensed a general air of danger about him. Or maybe that was
simply because she knew his background and was projecting her own
fears. After all, he’d been involved in an armed robbery in which a
store owner had been shot. Although he wasn’t the man who’d pulled
the trigger and had even been caught on videotape trying to stop
the shooter, he’d been part of the crime and locked away for it for
a long time. Being in prison for five years had to change a person.
If Bailey had already been trouble at age twenty-one, he was surely
even more hardened now.

Or rehabilitated. Wasn’t that what prison was
supposed to be for?

“This isn’t the sort of thing I do,” Joann
had said when she’d approached Mary about taking on a new employee.
“But I believe in Luke Bailey and I’d like to see him get a break,
a chance to improve himself. Besides, you’re Ms. Sensible and you
lock your doors. If you see him drinking or doing anything
suspicious, call me. Day or night.”

Mary had laughed. “I really am doing you a
favor.”

Joann had nodded. “He’ll go back to jail
without a job. I know it sounds stupid to make predictions with
anyone, much less one of my parolees, but I think he’s going to be
fine.” She’d sighed heavily. “Just don’t forget to read the
booklets and stuff I gave you, okay?”

Mary had to throw off her prejudices and
trust that everything would be all right. Lucas Bailey would be an
honest employee as Joann had promised. She could trust him to sleep
in the storage room and not sneak up the stairs to her apartment in
the night and molest her in her bed. This wasn’t some cheesy
made-for-TV movie—She Let Danger In. Luke probably was as Joann had
described him, an overall decent guy who’d made some really bad
decisions in the past.

Two days later, she watched her new employee
drop his duffle on the small rollaway bed that had been shoved into
the storeroom. The tiny space reeked of cardboard and ancient beer.
Letting him stay in this room was a mistake. No one could live
here—and she treasured her time alone after the bar closed. Knowing
he was downstairs, living in this cell, would make her feel ill at
ease in her own comfortable apartment.

“I’m not sure how long this will last. It’s
not going to be a long-term arrangement. All right, Mr.
Bailey?”

He froze, hands still on the duffle. His face
went utterly blank.

“The living arrangement, not the job,” she
added. “If you and the job suit, then that’s fine.”

“Okay. Thanks.” He straightened and shoved
his hands into his jeans pockets. “I understand.”

“In the meantime, if you need anything…” What
he needed was a real apartment and this wasn’t it. She gave him
another nod then left, walking down the corridor to the stairs that
led up to her place. Even after she closed her door, she was too
aware of his presence one floor below. He might as well be standing
in the room with her.

She was distracted—that had to be why she
forgot to check the caller ID before answering her cell phone.

“Dina Berkley made partner.” Her mother
launched in without a hello. “We’re going to the party her mother’s
holding tomorrow. You’re invited of course.”

“That’s great,” Mary said. “But I can’t come.
I’ll be sure to send Dina something.” She hadn’t seen Dina for
years, but hoped a good dirty card would make her blush then laugh
the way she used to back when they were teenagers sitting by the
country club swimming pool.

“Why can’t you come?”

“I’m training a new employee.”

“You hired someone?”

“Yup.” Mary tried divert her mother’s
attention by asking about her sister. “How’s Abbie?” Bad idea, it
turned out.

“She’s another one who’s making something of
her life. I mean she’s never going to make a million dollars—”

“Not like Dina,” Mary tried, but her mother
wasn’t going to abandon the familiar theme of what constituted a
young woman’s success.

“—but you can’t deny that having children is
something special.”

“Nope.”

“Nope? What do you mean?”

“I mean I can’t deny it. You’re right.” Mary
scrubbed at the kitchen counter.

Her mother surprised her by not using the
opportunity to harp on the theme of grandchildren. “Even that
friend of yours. What’s her name? Joan, the one who works with
criminals? Even her work is worthwhile.”

“Joann. Yup. She does good work.” Mary
pictured the man in her bar and wondered what Joann had been
thinking, suggesting one of her parolees as an employee. It spoke
well of Joann’s opinion of Luke that she’d been willing to take
such a big leap of faith, putting Mary’s bar and perhaps her own
job at risk if Luke should fail.

Mary looked at the clock on the stove. She’d
put in five minutes and didn’t have to feel guilty about hanging
up. “Listen, Mom, I need to get—”

“That woman is brave. I mean day after day
with criminals. You remember our accountant, Bert Phillips? He was
mugged, and that man got less than a year.”

“Not every ex-con is bad news.”

“You are showing your naiveté, sweetie. I
suppose I should be glad you’re not going into Joan’s line of
work.”

“Joann.” Mary picked up the brush to scrape
the gunk off the kitchen sink faucet, silently admonishing herself,
Do not be a smartass. Let her talk.

She did a fine job of half listening and
making reassuring noises until her mother started in on the absurd
trend of prolonging adolescence. She didn’t understand why people
in their twenties hated becoming adults, a remark clearly aimed at
Mary’s bar theme.

“Hey, hanging out with friends at a bar is
better than doing time in a prison, right?” Mary said, and
immediately wished she’d kept her mouth shut.

“What are you talking about?”

“You were talking about Joann before. Never
mind.”

There was a soft knock at the door. Saved.
“Gotta go. Love you. Talk to you later.” She hung up before her
mother could protest.

“Yeah?” she called.

A low voice answered, “It’s me.”

Of course. It had to be the man living in her
extra storeroom, since the front door buzzer hadn’t gone off. How
much had he heard of her end of the conversation through the door?
She hadn’t exactly been keeping her voice quiet. He’d think she’d
been gossiping about him, of course.

Mary unlocked and opened the door. This was
potentially too awkward so she had to just say it. “Hey, if you
overheard that stuff about prison? I wasn’t talking about you.”

Of course he’d heard her. The walls of her
apartment were paper thin.

She plunged on. “What I’m trying to say is
that I know how rude it would be if I told everyone you’d served
time, because no one would look past that fact, right? It’s
invasive.”

He hunched his shoulders in a shrug.

She gave a sigh of impatience—mostly with
herself. She had nearly learned to keep her mouth shut when it came
to her mother but had yet to learn that skill with the rest of the
world.

He looked up then and gave a twitch of the
mouth that could have been a smile. “It’s not really invasive, Ms.
Scott. Invasive is having to strip down for a cavity search. It’s
someone with rubber gloves up your ass.”

She wasn’t sure if he was trying to make her
feel better or shock her. “Yeah, I guess that qualifies.” She
forced a laugh. “I won’t do either, okay? No gossip or strip
searches.” The idea of him naked was too vivid, and it was her turn
to look away into the dark of the hall behind him.

She had to say something to make it clear
that she wasn’t a pushover. She had to draw the line again. “Since
we’re talking about this, I forgot to mention what Joann said, that
if there are signs that you’re, um…using, I should let her
know.”

“Yeah, I know.” He must have been trying to
save her from awkwardness because he quickly added, “I gotta submit
to drug tests on a regular basis. It’s part of my parole, but it’s
all right if you require them too. Do a drug test any time you want
and I won’t pull an attitude. I’m clean and I’m going to stay
clean. Drugs were never really my problem anyway.”

Mary wondered what he thought had been his
problem. What had led him to rob a store and end up in prison? She
had no idea why she felt as if she’d done him some sort of
injustice by bringing up the question of drug use. At least the
subject was out in the open now. Dealt with.

“So. What can I do for you?”

He cleared his throat. “I can use the
bathroom downstairs to wash up, and that’s fine. It’s great. But I
wonder if it’s possible every week or so if I could use a
shower?”

A shower—he meant her shower, of course.

“I’d pay of course,” he added hastily. “And I
don’t mean every day. And if it makes you uncomfortable or
whatever, I have friends. And there’s the Y.”

She’d just had that thought of him naked in
her brain and now in her shower. This was not helping.

“Sure,” she said too cheerfully. She was
about to say he could use the shower when she was downstairs
working, but she wasn’t ready to leave him alone in her apartment.
Not because he was an ex-con, she reminded herself. She just liked
her privacy.

“That’s fine,” she said firmly. “Want to take
one now?”

His eyes widened a little, as if she startled
him. “That’s okay. Thanks. But I’m not ready.”

What did you have to do to get ready for a
shower besides take off all your clothes? She managed to stop
herself asking that question and instead asked, “What do you
need?”

He pushed a hand through his hair. “Towel,”
he muttered.

“That’s it? You could borrow one of
mine.”

“You’re already doing more than enough.” He
glared at the floorboards as if they were arguing with him.

“A towel is not going to push me over the
edge, Mr. Bailey.”

Something like a smile touched the corners of
his mouth. “Yeah, but soap might.”

“You can use a towel, soap and even shampoo.
I guess I have to draw the line at conditioner.”

He met her eyes then and seemed to relax when
he saw she was grinning back.

“I never use that stuff,” he said. “I guess
I’ll stay on the right side of the line.”

“Listen, now’s as good a time as any. Take a
shower.” She didn’t mean to sound impatient but she felt unsettled
by the intimate feeling of the shared joke.

He backed up, eyes still locked with hers.
“I’ll be right back.” He turned and thumped down the stairs.

She waited at the top of the steps, her heart
beating fast as she cursed herself. Joann had given her a pamphlet
to read about the cons and mind games criminals might play with
those in authority over them. But even as Joann had handed over the
advisory booklet called Avoiding Offender Manipulation, she’d said
she was pretty certain Luke was a good man—with emphasis on the
pretty, as in she’d been fooled before.

“But guys who’ve never been incarcerated can
fool you, too,” Joann had cheerfully added. “There are manipulative
bastards everywhere.”

Mary wasn’t sure what bugged her more—that
Luke was already encroaching on her space or that she was
frightened by the thought. Frightened and excited. That excitement
was the scariest part.

Don’t be a fool, her father would say about
now. You know you’re a sucker for a sad story. These people—if you
give them an inch, they’ll take a dozen miles.