Bayview Heights Trilogy (9 page)

“Well, national research bears you out.” He
sipped his coffee, too, noting absently that she was one of the few
people who made it strong enough for him. “I have a movie that
explains the physical effects. It’s interspersed with kids talking
about their use and what it did to them.”

“It sounds good.”

Mitch shifted in his seat. “I’d need help
again—planning the lesson, until I get the hang of it myself.”

The corners of her mouth turned up, making
him feel like one of the students who had pleased her. “All right.
I’d like to see the movie first, anyway. Why don’t we put your
lesson off until Tuesday, then if you’re free, we can work together
after school Monday on a lesson design.”

Mitch set his cup on the table. “Why are you
being so cooperative? I thought you’d be furious at me.”

Cassie sat back and tucked her feet under
her. Her face was clean of makeup and still flushed from the heat
of her bath. “I’m not mad you brought the kids in. They deserved
it, especially DeFazio.”

“But...”

“But I am mad that you seem to think you have
to keep me out of all of this.”

“It wasn’t your place to be there
tonight.”

“And just who are you to decide that?”

He thought about that and decided to pick his
battles. “You’re right.”

She cocked her head. “Why do I have the
feeling I’m being mollified?”

“No wonder the kids can’t pull anything over
on you.”

Chuckling, she gave him an easy smile that
made him uncomfortable.

Linking his hands between his knees, he said,
“I’ve got another lesson I want to add to my list. As a matter of
fact, I’m thinking of approaching Seth Taylor about doing this for
the whole school.” He held her gaze unflinchingly. “On gang
prevention.”

Cassie lurched forward. “No!” The action
splattered coffee all over her shirt. Luckily, it had cooled
somewhat so she wasn’t burned, but it got her sopping wet. Mitch
reached into his back pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. Rising,
he crossed the two feet between them and hunched down in front of
her as she set the cup on the end table.

Give her the cloth. Don’t touch
her
.

“Here.” He passed her his handkerchief. She
took it and pressed it to her chest. He watched her for a few
seconds, then started to stand. She grabbed his wrist, keeping him
where he was, down on one knee in front of her. Close enough to
smell the soap from her bath. Near enough to see the smattering of
freckles on her nose.

“You can’t do this, Mitch. Please, listen to
me.”

There was so much emotion in her voice, he
was distracted from the effect of her nearness.

“Why?”

“Because of Johnny, of course.”

“He’s in a gang.”

“Not exactly.” Mitch arched a brow. “Johnny
was in the Blisters when he lived in New York City. On the advice
of some social workers, his mother moved out here when he was in
ninth grade. He’d already been in the gang for two years.”

Mitch swore vilely. “I hate the whole gang
thing, but especially when it happens that young.”

Cassie continued, “Apparently the gang let
him go because he moved. He only kept in touch with Zorro, his
buddy from childhood, who was still in the gang.”

Mitch was skeptical. It wasn’t that easy to
get out of a gang.

“But when they moved here, his mother
couldn’t support herself very well and could only get a part-time
job as a maid at the local motel. Now she drinks most of the time.”
Mitch remained silent. “Johnny helps support her. They get along on
that and the social security from his father’s death. But really he
has nobody.”

“That’s why you’ve taken such an interest in
him?”

“Among other reasons. I’m the only adult in
his life who cares.”

“Aren’t you assuming a lot of responsibility
for this kid?” Mitch asked, immediately feeling hypocritical when
he thought of a similar responsibility he’d sought to assume a
lifetime ago. Pain needled him, exposing the memory he could
usually suppress.

Cassie shook her head. “Maybe. But kids need
a strong adult role model in their lives if they’re going to be
resilient to the pressures of today.”

Listening to her passionate response, Mitch
asked, “Are we still talking about Johnny?”

She blushed. “Of course.” The pressure of her
hand on his wrist increased. It was surprisingly strong. “The point
is
that Johnny was almost completely out of the gang, but
then eighteen months ago, Zorro took over as head of the Blisters.
Gradually, he’s tried to get Johnny back, telling him he could be a
long-distance member. Even choose what things to get involved in.
Set his own standards.”

“Gangs don’t operate with part-time members,
Cassie.”

“I know. But it seems this one is bending the
rules because Zorro’s their leader. And Johnny flirts with the idea
of going back, especially when things get rough—like at school. Or
when he’s afraid.” She raised her chin a notch. “I’ve managed to
keep him out of most of their doings, though.”

“While Zorro’s trying to lure him back
in.”

Cassie nodded.

“Does he spend time with them?”

“Some. I can’t stop it completely. He’s got
this bond with Zorro. Like he’s family.”

“Gangs function as family to kids like
Battaglia.”

“They’re not his family.”

Neither are you
. “He’s walking too
fine a line, Cassie. He’ll never make it.”

“I don’t believe that.”

Sighing, Mitch backed away from her, stood up
and began to pace. He felt like he was picking his way through a
mine field.

She was blind to what was really going on
because she cared about the kid too much. He tried a different
tack. “The gang is encroaching out here. You know how urban gangs
infiltrate the suburbs?”

She shook her head.

“From transfer students.”

Bolting off the chair, she stood, too, and
grasped his arm. “No, not Johnny. He’s not doing that.”

Mitch spun around to face her. “Maybe not.
Battaglia seems pretty strong. But DeFazio isn’t. They got to him
tonight through the drugs. Next, they’ll suck him into the gang.
It’s contagious. Your whole school is in danger.”

Cassie drew in a deep breath and released his
arm. “But if you go into this gang prevention stuff now, I’ll lose
Johnny for good. He’ll never sit through lessons. He’ll never take
this from you. He already resents you.” When Mitch didn’t respond,
Cassie added, “A couple of years ago, some teachers wanted to
establish a policy that kids couldn’t get early dismissals from
school to work. They felt outside employment interfered with the
learning process. Some of us, including Seth, didn’t think that we
should make a cut-and-dried policy, but he agreed to try it. Johnny
was only sixteen, but he was working hard to help support his
mother. He got so angry at the administrative inflexibility, he
quit school for six months. Eventually, it became clear that we
needed to make some exceptions, and I got Johnny to enroll
again.”

Mitch bit back a retort about sacrificing one
kid for the good of the whole school. He said instead, “I can’t
just let this go.”

“Don’t you see?” Cassie pointed out. “This
could do the same thing to him. It could make him quit if he feels
he’s being personally attacked. It will kick into old
resentments.”

His better judgment told him to turn her down
flat. All his police instincts said the gang issue had to be
addressed right away.

“Please, Mitch, don’t do this. Not now, at
least.”

He blew out a heavy breath. “All right. I’ll
hold off a little while. But I’m not promising to let it go. And if
I see any evidence of gang activity, I’m stepping in.”

She closed her eyes in relief. That small
gesture swept through him, bathing him in strong emotion that was
completely separate from the physical attraction he felt for
her.

And it scared the hell out of him.

“STAYIN’ LATE AGAIN, Cassie?” The wizened
janitor smiled at her from the door of her classroom.
Phantom
of the Opera
blared from his radio, making her smile.

“Yeah, Hank. Got a meeting with the cop. Come
on in. You can sweep and do the boards before he gets here.”

The old man trudged in, the bottles on his
big cart clanking, the smell of disinfectant stinging Cassie’s
nostrils. They talked as he wielded the broom up and down the rows
of desks.

“The kids say he’s tough.”

“Lansing?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh, he’s tough, all right.”

I’m not promising to let it go. If I see
any evidence of gang activity...

Frustrated, trying to change the subject,
Cassie angled her head toward the radio. “You looking forward to
seeing that?”

A youthful grin claimed his tired features.
“Three weeks.” His eyes misted. “Can’t believe you all got those
tickets for me.”

“Believe it, Hank. The kids love you.”

As part of their yearly Christmas projects,
the student body did something nice for those within their school,
as well as helping the needy. This year, they’d raised money to buy
their favorite custodian a gift—and managed to get him tickets for
Phantom
at the end of January.

Hank snorted. “Nah, it’s you they love.”

“Am I interrupting?”

Cassie looked over to the door and into the
inscrutable face of Mitch Lansing. As he loomed at the entrance,
his broad shoulders spanned the doorway and, as usual, he dwarfed
the large classroom when he stepped into it.

Hank headed for the door. “Nope. Just
finished in here. See you, Cassie.” Slowly, he wheeled the cart
out, nodded to Mitch and disappeared down the hall, humming “The
Music of the Night.”

Mitch ambled farther into the room and leaned
against the edge of one of the desks. His hair was tousled from the
January wind and snowflakes dotted his wool coat, underneath which
he still wore the gray pin-striped suit, light gray shirt and
striped tie that he’d had on that morning.

Not that I noticed
, Cassie told
herself.

“At the risk of stereotyping again,” Mitch
said, the corners of his mouth turning up just a bit, “your janitor
listens to Broadway music?”

In response, Cassie smiled, too. “Schools are
full of odd people. I could tell you stories you wouldn’t believe
about some of the personnel here.”

Mitch’s green eyes focused on her with
intensity. “Tell me one about you.”

Cassie stood. She picked up some folders and
crossed to him. “You know all about me.”

He scanned her and scowled. “Not all.
What
are you wearing?”

Looking down at her clothes, Cassie took in
her bright purple leggings that ended at the knees and white,
oversize T-shirt displaying a purple-and-yellow butterfly and the
saying “The Wonder Of Teaching Is Watching The Caterpillars Turn
Into Butterflies.”

“Volleyball clothes.” Mitch’s eyes stayed on
her legs a few seconds too long, she thought. When he lifted them,
the look in them made her shiver.

“Volleyball?”

“Yeah. I play with a team from school on
Monday nights at Hotshots.” At his puzzled look, she said, “You
know that warehouse on Glide Street that they turned into a bar
with the courts in the back.”

He glanced at the clock. “What time?”

“Seven.” When he said nothing, she continued,
“Well, we’d better get going.” She crossed to a table where she’d
left the material for their lesson and he followed her.

He cleared his throat. “Aren’t you cold?”

The look in his eyes made her want to perch
on the edge of the table, cross her legs and let him stare all he
wanted. To stifle the urge, she retrieved a sweatshirt from her gym
bag, tugged it over her head and sat down in a chair.

“Better?”

He nodded, removed his overcoat and took a
seat next to her. He was only about a foot away. He smelled like
cold air and some woodsy cologne that reminded her of sex.

“Um, here’s the blank lesson plan form that
we’ve been using. We should probably start with that.”

He reached inside his suit coat and drew out
his glasses. Settling them on his nose, he picked up the paper and
scanned it. Onyx cuff links glimmered at his big wrists. “All
right—a focus. That’s what we start with, right?”

“Yes.”

“One that’s relevant to their lives.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I obviously can’t use the incident Friday
night.”

“No, but you might use your experience in New
York City—a vivid story that will grab their attention.”

Mitch’s face muscles tightened as he told her
about the three thirteen-year-olds who had died from inhalants
right before his eyes.

“How do you do it?” Cassie asked when he
finished.

“Do what?”

“See so many horrible things and still
function?”

“Sometimes I don’t.”

She cocked her head.

“There’ve been times in my life when I
haven’t been able to function because of what I’ve seen.”

Cassie touched his hand impulsively. It was
still a little cold. “Want to talk about it?”

He shook his head, but his eyes contradicted
the gesture.

“Do you talk about it to anyone?”

Mitch swallowed hard. “To Kurt, once and a
while.”

“Your brother?”

“He got divorced recently, so we spend more
time together now. He’s a doctor in the city.”

“Johnny wants to be a doctor.”

Mitch just stared at her.

“You don’t think he’ll make it, do you.”

“Let’s just say the odds are against it.”

She angled her chin. “They were against me,
too.”

Unexpectedly, he reached over and tucked a
strand of hair behind her ear, the same way he’d done that night at
Zoe’s. The feelings she’d experienced then returned in full
force.