Shameless (42 page)

Sam’s brows furrowed. “So you don’t have a crush on Alex?”

“No way!” Tanya’s expression turned horrified. “He doesn’t think that I— Oh, God. Is that what he thinks?”

“He doesn’t think anything,” Sam lied. “It was my idea. I mean, you’ve been asking a lot of questions about him.”

Tanya bit her lip. “You swear he doesn’t think anything weird about me?”

“As far as I know.”

“Thank God. Cuz I’d just
die
if he thought I was hot for him.” She shuddered, as if nothing in the world could be worse than that fate. Her expression changed as she glanced over Sam’s shoulder. “Uh oh. Asshole alert.”

“What?” Sam turned around and tensed.

“Hi, Tanya,” John said. “May I speak to Sam alone for a moment?”

Tanya glared at him, then turned to Sam. “You want me to kick him in the balls for you, Ms. Rossi?”

Sam covered her shocked grin with her hand. “Uh, no. Not this time.” She handed Tanya a card with her phone numbers. “If you ever want to talk — about
anything
— call me.”

Tanya smiled, hugged her, scowled at John, and left.

Sam straightened in the cold metal chair as he dropped into the one vacated by Tanya. “Hello, John.” He looked like his tan had worn off suddenly in the few days since she’d seen him. She wanted so badly to wrap him into her arms and help him get through this thing with Brian. But she knew nothing she could do would help. He had to come to terms with it on his own.

John nodded Tanya’s direction. “If looks could kill… What’s with her?”

“Apparently,
her
father wanted nothing to do with her either.”

John swiveled in his seat. “That’s not fair.”

“Not fair?” she snapped, her compassion for his grief disappearing. “Life’s not fair, John. You’ve reinforced that lesson for me loud and clear these past few days.” She rubbed her belly to calm herself. After a deep breath, she asked, “Was there something you wanted?”

He sighed. “I just wanted to see how you are holding up.”

“Do you want the truth or the sanitized version?”

His sigh was louder this time. “Sam.”

“
John
. I’m miserable. I miss you like crazy. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. Happy?” She stood up. “Look. Unless you’re here to tell me you want me and the baby in your life, I have nothing more to say to you.”

He bowed his head, his hands clenched over his knees. “I can’t tell you that. You know it’s not that simple.”

The knife in her heart was just as sharp as the first time he’d rejected her. A tiny sob slipped from the depths of her soul. “Good-bye, John.”

She turned and walked into the rain.

Chapter 24

Sam poured a cup of decaf in the break room and headed back to her desk. Her phone rang as she approached. As she reached for it, John’s image flashed in her mind. Was it him? She hadn’t spoken to him since the funeral more than a month ago. Maybe he was calling to wish her Happy Thanksgiving a day late.

Right.

Still, she held her breath as she picked up her line. Disappointment roiled through her as a female voice spoke on the line. “Ms. Rossi? It’s Tanya. You know, from the program at the—”

“I know who you are, Tanya,” Sam said with a grin as she sat. “Did you have a nice Thanksgiving?” It certainly would have been better than hers.

“It was okay.”

“Is everything all right?”

There was a slight pause on the line. “No. I n-need your help.” Tanya’s voice trembled.

Sam straightened, the springs of her chair protesting the sudden movement. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Where are you?” Visions of Brian danced through her head. She realized she clenched the hot coffee mug and it was burning her fingers. She set it on her desk.

“I’m okay. I mean, I’m
not
okay which is why I called you, but I’m not hurt or nothing.”

Sam breathed in her relief and leaned back in the chair. “So, what’s going on?”

Again, a pause. “I, um, have this problem, and I need help getting out of it.”

“Are you in some sort of trouble?”

“Um, yeah.”

“Did you do something illegal?”

“Well, not exactly, but…”

“Tanya. Why don’t you tell me what exactly is going on?”

“I, um, sort of got involved in this, um, gang and, well…” She cleared her throat. “I don’t wanna be in it anymore, but I’m scared to get out. I mean, look what happened to Brian when
he
tried to get out. I don’t want that to happen to me.” Her voice rose into near hysterics.

“Tanya. Calm down. Where are you?”

“At my house.”

Then the girl’s previous words hit Sam. “Wait. Brian was trying to get
out
?”

“Well, yeah. You know, like they beat the crap out of you to get in and they beat the crap out of you to get out. You know?”

Sam’s head spun, trying to process the information, wondering vaguely if John knew this. She had a feeling that he did not. She pressed her fingers to her throbbing temples. She could think about what to do with this news later. Right now, she had Tanya to worry about.

“I don’t know what to do, Ms. Rossi,” she cried.

“This is really over my head. You need to talk to John and Alex. They’re the experts at this sort of—”

“No!”

Sam blinked. “Why not?”

“B-because… because I don’t want them to know. I don’t want
Mr. Drake
to know. He’ll think I’m a loser and then he’ll never—” A sob cut off her words.

“Tanya,” Sam said gently. “I thought you told me you didn’t have a crush on him.”

A high-pitched giggle echoed over the line. “I’m
sure
.” The giggle ended with a hiccup.

Oh. My. God
. Suddenly, Sam knew why she’d had déjà vu at the funeral. Tanya’s laugh was identical to Alex’s. Everything made sense now, why she appeared to have a thing for Alex, why she was so concerned about his opinion of her.

“Tanya,” Sam said slowly, carefully. “Alex is your father, isn’t he?”

The Beetle crept down the street and Sam scanned the row of rundown houses through the side window, searching for the address scribbled onto the sticky note on her dash.

There it was—
4611
, the number Tanya had given her over the phone yesterday. The house was tiny and a dingy shade of gray. A front porch with a missing step graced the front of the house and a rickety picket fence enclosed the tiny yard. In contrast to the rundown structure, bright yellow curtains hung in the front windows.

Sam squeezed her car between a broken-down pickup propped on cinder blocks, and a beater Toyota that had more dents than a golf ball. After considerable effort, she climbed out of her car — everything took considerable effort these days, and she still had four weeks before her due date.

Reaching the porch, she grabbed onto the post and hauled herself over the missing stair, praying the remaining steps would support her body weight. They did, and she straightened her sweater over her maternity jeans then knocked on the torn screen door.

A woman answered. Sam wondered if she had the wrong house. “Samantha Rossi?” the woman asked. Sam nodded and the door was pushed open to let her inside. “I’m Delores Smith,” she said.

Sam turned in the narrow entry hall to look at the woman. “You are? Oh, I—”

Delores’ smile looked practiced. “I know. You weren’t expecting me to be white. Nobody does. It’s okay.”

Sam didn’t know how to respond to that, so she asked, “Is Tanya here?”

Delores nodded her head. A few dark blond strands of hair fell from her pulled-up hairstyle. “I asked her to put on a pot of coffee, but—” She glanced at Sam’s belly. “Maybe you’d rather have something else to drink?”

Sam smiled at the woman’s concern. “I haven’t had my quota yet today. Hot coffee sounds wonderful, thank you.”

Delores took her coat and directed her to a ratty couch brightened by a colorful afghan thrown over the back.

“Did Tanya tell you why I’m here?” Sam asked.

Delores shook her head. “Just that you’re from the high school and wanted to talk to me.”

Great
. “Uh, I think it would be best to let Tanya tell you.”

In a moment, the girl entered the room. Sam did a classic double-take. Tanya’s face was devoid of the usual heavy-handed makeup and her clothes weren’t of the skin-tight variety but casual and comfortable looking. “Oh, hi, Ms. Rossi,” Tanya said shyly. Even her demeanor was different.

Sam returned the greeting. “Both of you, please, call me Sam.”

Tanya sat on the couch beside Sam while Delores took a chair across the coffee table.

“Is everything okay?” Delores asked, studying the faces of her daughter and Sam and apparently seeing something in them that troubled her.

Sam and Tanya glanced at each other. “You tell her,” Tanya said.

“Tell me what?” Now, Delores looked really worried.

Sam cleared her throat and shifted on the spring-bare couch to get more comfortable, her lower back aching. “Ms. Smith, has Tanya told you what she’s been up to at the high school these past few months?”

“Up to? Are you in some kind of trouble, young lady?” Delores asked her daughter, looking weary and suspicious.

“No, Mama.” Tanya glanced at Sam, silently asking her to explain.

Sam explained the program at SCHS and its purpose to help young people like Tanya feel better about themselves and to stay out of trouble. As she spoke, Delores looked like a beaten woman, obviously ashamed her daughter felt she had to join such a program.

After Sam finished, Delores stared at her hands. “Why didn’t you tell me, Tanya? Why were you so secretive about where you’ve been?”

“Well, I—” She fidgeted around on the couch. “I knew you’d be mad if you found out, and you wouldn’t let me go.”

“Why on earth would I be mad? I admit, I feel… bad that you’d need to turn to that program, but I certainly would never—”

“Ms. Smith,” Sam interjected. “One of the instructors is Alex Drake.”

“Alex?” A dreamy expression flitted across Delores’ face, then she turned a questioning look to her daughter.

“I heard you talking to Aunt Betty last Christmas,” Tanya explained. “Then I heard at school how he and this other guy were doing this weight-training thing.” Her expression was sheepish. “I’m sorry, Mama. I just wanted to see what he was like.”

Delores rubbed her temples. “I guess I can’t blame you for that.” She took a deep breath as if to get a handle on her emotions. After a few more silent moments, she asked, “So, what is he like?”

Tanya grinned. “He’s really nice, Mama. I mean, he don’t take any—” She cleared her throat. “He
doesn’t
take any crap from any of the kids, but he seems like a good guy.”

Sam started to tell Delores about Alex’s career, but Delores halted her with, “Yes, I know all that. I saw a story on the news about him last year. He’s certainly changed, hasn’t he?”

“What happened with you two, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Delores got a far-off look in her eyes as she remembered. “I met Alex back in high school. I didn’t know he was in a gang and I was crazy about him. I didn’t tell my parents because I knew they’d freak out. Back then, it was still fairly rare for a white girl, especially a ‘nice’ white girl like me, to date a black boy. My parents grew up in the south and were prejudiced to the core. ‘I’m not prejudiced,’ my mom used to say, ‘I just don’t want them hanging around my neighborhood.’” Delores grimaced. “You can imagine how they reacted when they found out I was pregnant. It wasn’t enough that I got pregnant, I had to get pregnant by a—” She shook her head. “Anyway, by then I knew what Alex was involved in, and even though I still cared about him, I knew my parents were right in having me go live with my aunt in Tacoma until the baby was born. Everyone assumed I was going to give her up for adoption, and so did I, but when I held her for the first time—”

Delores gave Tanya a warm smile then looked at Sam. “Well, you’ll know how I felt when you hold your baby. When are you due?”

“Four weeks,” Sam said, misty-eyed.

“Anyway,” Delores continued. “I couldn’t give her up. I knew I’d do whatever it took to keep her with me. My parents didn’t agree, and I haven’t spoken to them since Tanya was about six years old.”