Bayview Heights Trilogy (13 page)

Just as he reached it, Johnny called out.
“Lansing?”

“What?”

“You doing this because you feel guilty?”

Mitch shook his head. His back to the boy, he
pulled open the door and stepped out. While he was still within
earshot, he mumbled, “No, I’m doing this because I’m crazy.”

o0o

ON MONDAY MORNING, Cassie faced her class,
trying to ignore the fact that Johnny was not there for the
beginning of another week. Mitch Lansing sat in the back watching
her.

“Aw, we gonna do this again?” Austyn Jones
threw down the packet Cassie had just given him, his beringed hands
raised in disgust. He rolled his eyes. God, Cassie hated that
gesture.

“Yes, Austyn, we are. We can use some
vocabulary drill.”

“But Ms. S., when are we gonna use words like
contingency
?”

“Never, if you don’t know what they
mean.”

“That’s a teacher answer,” Mike Youngblood
said, drumming his fingers on the desk, then tapping his foot. His
hyperactivity, usually routine for Cassie to deal with, was getting
on her nerves today.

“I’m a teacher,” Cassie said, trying to
stifle a flush that crept up her neck. Her exasperation had little
to do with contrary kids.

“Leave her alone,” Nikki Parelli put in.
“She’s upset about Johnny.”

The kids became quiet immediately.

“I am upset about Johnny,” Cassie told them,
scanning the whole room. “But we’re still going to do this lesson.”
She glanced at the clock. “I’ll make you a deal. If I can’t tell
you when you could use each of these words in your own life by the
time class is over, I’ll cancel tonight’s homework.”

“All right.”

“Totally rad.”

“
Mucho grande
.”

“With one
contingency
,” she added.
Everybody laughed. “On one condition.”

“No, that ain’t fair,” Don Peterson said, his
team jacket draping his big shoulders.

Cassie nailed him with what educators called
“the look.” All teachers had one; it was their greatest weapon.
“Afraid, Don?”

“Me? Never.”

Jones stood, kicked out his new alligator
boots and crossed his ankles. “What’s the contingency?”

“That Captain Lansing help me.”

“Not a chance,” Tara Romig said. “He’s got a
photographic memory.”

Cassie eyed the girl. “How do you know that,
Tara?”

“He wrote about it one day.”

Cassie said, “Still, he’ll have to think on
his feet.” She turned to Mitch. “Game, Captain?”

His smile was slow and sexy, setting her
pulse spinning. “Game, Ms. Smith.”

It was fun. They all sat on the floor—even
Mitch. First, the kids got together in a group and studied the
words so they’d know if he and Cassie got them right.

As they concentrated hard, Mitch leaned over
to her and said, “Did you plan this?”

“No, it’s what educational jargon terms a
teachable moment
.”

When the kids were ready, DeFazio stood and
took the lead, probably to get Mitch back for the inhalant lesson,
which had gone over surprisingly well.

“Okay—the first one’s
dispirited
.”

Cassie said right away, “Joe, you’d be
dispirited if your girlfriend dropped you for another guy.”

Mitch added, “Or, you’ll be dispirited if you
fail the test.”

Nikki took a turn. “
Laconic
.”

Jen Diaz piped up. “Mr. Bosco is so laconic
he almost puts us to sleep.”

Jones yelled, “Diaz, whose side are you
on?”

“Sorry,” she said, grinning. “It was just too
perfect to let pass.”

“Try another, guys,” Mitch challenged,
sitting back and bracing his arms on the floor. His shirt pulled
tightly across his chest.

“
Virile
.”

Cassie wanted to moan. Instead, she tore her
eyes away from Mitch and said, “In order for you guys to be virile,
you have to have more than muscles and brawn. A real man is
sensitive and talks about his feelings.”

The boys coughed and pretended to gag
themselves.

The girls rolled their eyes. “Sensitive? Fat
chance.”

Five more words brought them to the end of
the lesson. So far, Cassie and Mitch hadn’t been stumped.

“The last one is
prodigal
,” Jen
yelled out.

Before anyone could answer, the door to the
classroom flew open. Johnny Battaglia stood in the threshold, his
hair cut, his jeans pressed and his cheeks ruddy. “Uh, sorry I’m
late,” he said, looking sheepishly toward Cassie. “I had some
things to do.”

The room was ghostly still. Cassie stared at
Johnny.

Mitch grinned. “The prodigal son
returns.”

CASSIE TOSSED the volleyball over her head,
drew her arm back and smacked it with her fisted hand. It was a
good, low serve. The ball sailed over the net and plopped down in
the middle of the opposite court, as three players from Bayview
hospital failed to reach it.

Ross Martin said, “Hey, you guys. Need
glasses? You could probably get them cheap at the hospital.”

“Naw,” retorted one of the technicians Cassie
dated occasionally. “
We
work till five, and it takes us a
while to get in the groove. You all had time for a nap after
school.”

The hospital’s team laughed at the friendly
jab while the educators booed.

“Yeah, sure,” Cassie called to the accuser.
“We’re short two players tonight because they’re home inputting
grades on the computer. They’re due tomorrow.”

Before anyone could offer a comeback, Cassie
shouted, “Thirteen serving ten,” and sent the ball flying over the
net with a hard punch. The other team returned it. Zoe set up the
shot with Ross. The ball came back to the gym teacher—Bill
Carlson—who slammed it over the net right into the chest of a guy
in the fourth row. Bill turned and raised his hand, giving Cassie a
high five. “One more, Cassie baby. Come on, we’re depending on
you.”

Cassie smiled. Catching the ball, she jogged
back into position. As she turned, she caught a glimpse of someone
in her peripheral vision. And stopped dead in her tracks. On the
sidelines was Mitch Lansing. He leaned against a table, a beer in
his hand, watching her.

He was dressed in a forest green sweat suit.
It outlined his muscular torso—which she studied carefully. It took
her a minute to realize people were yelling at her. She couldn’t
drag her eyes away from Mitch until Zoe blocked her view. Her
friend was chuckling as she whispered, “Close your mouth, girl.
You’re making a spectacle of yourself.”

In a hushed voice, Cassie said, “Did you see
him?”

“
Everyone’s
seen him now. Get a
grip, Cass. You can look your fill after this point.”

Zoe’s words finally sunk in. Horrified at her
public display, Cassie stepped back and managed to get into serving
position. “Game point.” She threw up the ball and served—straight
into the net.

Groaning, she accepted the teasing and tried
to focus on the game. The teachers finally won, seventeen to
fifteen, no thanks to Cassie. As she participated in the hugs and
banter afterward, she saw Mitch smile and stare at her. When the
players finally came off the court, she headed right for him.

“Hi.” Up close, he was even more mesmerizing.
The color of his sweat suit deepened his eyes to a dark and
dangerous green. The material looked soft and inviting. She was
tempted to run her hands over those shoulders that were a mile
wide.

“Hi. You looked good out there.”

“Oh, please. I blew my serve.”

He sipped his beer. “Yeah, I noticed. What
happened?”

She watched him for signs of sarcasm and saw
the teasing glint in his eyes. Damn it, he knew.

Hmm. Two could play this game. She looked him
up and down. “I couldn’t believe my eyes, Captain. I didn’t think
you owned any clothes other than those suits of armor you
wear.”

Slowly, he reached over and tucked behind her
ear the wayward strand of hair that seemed to fascinate him.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Ms. Smith.” His voice was
like warm honey.

Zoe and Ross joined them before she could
respond. “Here, Cass,” Zoe said, handing her a beer. “Hi,
Mitch.”

Pleasantries were exchanged, then talk about
the game predominated until it was time to start the second round
of the match.

“We’re short two people,” Ross told Mitch.
“You wanna fill in?”

“I’d like that,” Mitch replied. “Is it within
the rules?”

“We’re pretty informal here. And since you’ve
been working in the high school for a month, you qualify.”

The players returned to the court, and Cassie
took her position in the back before she let herself search for
Mitch. She groaned again when she glimpsed him in the front line,
studying the net and the other players. He’d removed his sweats,
and the fantasies Cassie had had of what he’d look like out of his
suit became reality. He wore khaki athletic shorts that hit him
mid-thigh. His legs were roped with the muscles of an athlete. A
navy blue T-shirt was tucked into his washboard-flat waist. When he
turned, she saw NYPD sprawled across an Arnold Schwarzenegger
chest. Cassie sighed and forced herself to look away. It was going
to be a long game.

Mitch was aware of Cassie watching him. Her
obvious appreciation took away some of the nervousness he’d had
about coming here, about admitting he wanted to see her, wanted to
take their relationship further. He’d accepted that he would let
himself get closer to her—to all these people. He was glad he’d
come, though he hadn’t been on a volleyball court since Nam, where
they’d routinely run pickup games.

He played easily at first, careful not to
slam the ball into any of the women in the front line, being sure
to set it up with another player. The lines rotated several times,
until Cassie stood directly behind him. After the hospital team
scored a point, she cupped her hands around her mouth and said, “I
think you’re sandbagging, Captain.”

He turned to face her. She was sweaty and
flushed. Her eyes were bluer now and they were alight with
mischief. The navy shirt emblazoned with Teachers Have Class clung
to her curves. Her breasts looked full and heavy, and he wondered
what they’d feel like in his hands. “Excuse me?” he said, feigning
indignation.

“We, ah, don’t go easy on the women here,
Lansing,” Alex Ransom said from next to her. “You don’t have to
hold back.” Ransom put his arm around Cassie and hugged her. “Our
females are tough. God forbid you don’t play to your
potential.”

Cassie added, “Or worse, that you hog the
ball. It took us months to train these Neanderthals.”

Mitch held up his hands. “Fine. I’m happy to
oblige.”

“And let yourself go, Captain.” She gave him
a look that had nothing to do with volleyball. “I’d like to see
that.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Would you, now?”

The game began again, halting their banter.
Mitch tried hard to let go but couldn’t quite allow himself to
spike on the five-foot-tall nurse who faced him opposite the net,
or even the skinny orderly. The teachers won, anyway, so it didn’t
matter.

Afterward, he joined them at the bar. Cassie
sat on a stool, more relaxed than he’d ever seen her. “Buy you a
beer, Captain?”

“Sure.” He sidled in next to her, and for
fifteen minutes, chatted amiably with the players. It felt good to
be a part of the group.

At about nine, several of the teachers left
to go home and finish up their grades. Cassie and Mitch were alone
at the bar. “No grades to do?” he asked her.

“No, I finished them at school before I came
here.”

He shook his head. “You never learn, do
you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You were alone at school again before the
game?”

“Don’t start,” she said, but the sting wasn’t
in her voice. Underlying her tone was something he couldn’t put his
finger on—maybe didn’t want to—but it wasn’t anger. Or even
irritation.

Her face grew serious. “Mitch, I wanted to
thank you for what you did for Johnny.” She reached out and
squeezed his wrist. Her touch felt so good on his bare skin, he
wanted to close his eyes and savor it.

“It wasn’t much,” he managed to say.

“It was.”

“What did he tell you?”

“Not too much. He’s as closemouthed as you
are sometimes. But it was enough. You got him a job in your
brother’s clinic, and that gesture of faith turned him around this
time.”

“Did he tell you where he’d been all
week?”

“No.”

“His hand was bandaged Thursday morning.”

“Mitch, he’s going to make it, I know it.”
She smiled. “Some of it’s due to you now. How can I thank you for
this?”

An image of sweaty sheets wrapped around her
flashed into his mind. To banish it, he glanced at the clock. “I
know it’s late, but let’s get something to eat. I’m starved.”

She studied him for a minute. “Me, too. I
usually have a light supper after the game.” Her smile was
innocent. “I made minestrone soup. It’s waiting in my Crock-Pot at
home. Want to join me for some?”

Shaking his head, he knit his brows. “I’d
never guess you liked to cook. You’re full of surprises, Ms.
Smith.”

This time, a Jezebel smile came to her full
lips. “You’d better believe it, Captain.”

o0o

THE SOUP WAS GREAT, the company even better.
They ate in front of the fire Mitch had started while Cassie dished
up their supper. By tacit agreement, they stayed away from subjects
that would drive a wedge between them. After the meal, Mitch sat on
the floor, his back against the couch, sipping coffee. “Tell me
about how you grew up,” he said.

She hadn’t expected that. Her stomach knotted
at the thought of the disclosure. “You know most of it,” she said,
stalling.

“I know you’re from Bayview Heights, you went
to the high school here and were….”