B00BSH8JUC EBOK (8 page)

I jammed my Police Softball League champions’ cap down against the wind and stuck my hands into my jeans pockets. I kept thinking about what I was doing. I was going to meet my girl, I was taking her over to Randie’s house, and society be damned. I didn’t feel like a kid anymore.

Jaws and I had arranged to meet in the Hillsboro Library parking lot. Nobody we knew would even think to go to the library on a Friday night.

Jaws drove a dark green Mustang convertible with so much power it practically needed clearance from Mission Control. Everything about it was brazenly erotic, its lean, sleek chassis and leering grillwork, supple leather seats and haughty tinted glass. I loved that car.

Jaws was parked in the shadows, the motor running against the evening chill. I slipped into the passenger’s seat. Normally she did something obscene to me as soon as I got close enough, but not tonight. I gave her a look. The warmup suit and cross-trainer shoes she favored were replaced by khaki slacks, loafers, a turtleneck shirt and tasteful V-neck sweater.

“Christ! Where are you going? To a job interview?”

“What about you? You look like an undercover cop.”

“Is that supposed to be an insult?”

“Oh for God’s sake, just give me directions to where we’re going.”

Jaws was nervous, all right. She drove to the house without speaking. Julie let us in, greeting me with a hug and Jaws with a warm handshake. “Randie’s on her way,” Julie said. “Kotter, why don’t you get a couple of Cokes out of the refrigerator and make yourselves at home? I’m in the middle of stroganoff.”

We had barely popped the tops on our sodas when we heard Randie’s Jeep Cherokee pull into the driveway. Jaws’ shoulders tightened. Then they tightened some more as Randie entered. She was in uniform. The mirror-bright hat brim, the spit-shined shoes and the gold lieutenant’s bars on her collar gave her a look of blue steel.

It had its effect on Jaws. She had that sweaty glaze that comes when all you can think about is calling your lawyer.

Randie’s eyes did a slow scan of Jaws, taking in the broad shoulders and the big hands and the athlete’s build that no clothes could civilize. Randie’s search was so thorough, she should have had a warrant.

“Hey, Lieutenant,” I said. “This is Jaws.”

“Kotter, considering the circumstances, you might as well call me ‘Randie’ when you’re in the house.”

That sure surprised me. Someday I would figure Randie out, but now was not the time. The last thing
 
I expected from her was this Officer Friendly routine.

Jaws was disarmed. Her natural cockiness returned, and she smiled at Randie. Personally, I thought it was a little premature to be feeling comfortable, and I decided to keep my mouth shut as much as I possibly could. After all, I hadn’t even gotten through the introductions without being thrown for a loop.

“Have a seat, you guys,” Randie said.

Jaws and I sat on the sofa at a polite courting distance. We didn’t touch.

Randie and Jaws had a lot of mutual friends through Randie’s involvement with the Police Softball League and Jaws’ college softball team. They had a very pleasant conversation going until Randie paused, suddenly thoughtful, and said, “So tell me, Jaws, whatever were you thinking when you took a high school student into the towel room and sexually exploited her?”

Jaws gasped. She turned so stone still, she forgot to breathe. Randie got up and stood in front of her.

“Well?” Randie demanded.

“I—it—it was mutual,” Jaws croaked.

“Mutual? It’s mutual when you find a kid fooling around with her friends and turn it into such a big deal that she fears for her academic standing, her future and her family life if she doesn’t do exactly what you say? It’s mutual when you order her into her gym clothes and lock her in a room where you have an absolute hold over her? Is that what you call mutual?”

“Oh my God,” Jaws said hoarsely.

“You can tell the school district it was mutual. You can tell your college adviser it was mutual. You can tell Kotter’s parents it was mutual.”

“Lieutenant, please don’t do this. I’ll do anything you say. I swear to God I’ll never touch her again.”

Randie chuckled. “No need. Fortunately for you, Jaws, it
was
mutual,” she said mildly. “Come here, Kotter.” She put me in front of her, both of us facing Jaws, and wrapped her arms around me protectively. “Kotter’s the baddest kid I know, but she’s going to be a good cop, and I’m not going to let anything interfere with that. So listen up, Jaws. Kotter has got to spend more time at the station again, and you two have got to stop doing it in public places. Understood?”

“Yes, Lieutenant.”

Randie’s infernal chuckle came again. “I thought you all were going to call me Randie.”

“The problem is, you keep acting like a lieutenant,” I said, which was a very brave thing to do, considering that Randie had me folded against her. All she did, though, was give me an affectionate squeeze. I wasn’t the villain tonight.

Julie was waiting patiently to serve dinner, so we moved our discussion to the table. She had prepared her usual masterpiece—the stroganoff and a vegetable medley and some homemade bread that came from the oven, not from one of those tinker-toy breadmakers.

“After we finish dinner, Julie and I are taking you two out,” Randie said. “Have you ever heard of the Hollies?”

We hadn’t. Randie smiled and explained. It was a discreet retreat snuggled into the foothills out past the Buena Vista Country Club. If you didn’t know where it was, you’d never find it.

A discerning clientele liked it that way. Patrons could escape to its finely furnished rooms, small gourmet restaurant, bar with walk-in fireplace, mountain trails and nightly live music that was always soft, urgent and throbbing. Its official name was the Forest House, but it was universally called by its nickname because the two women who owned it both were named Holly. Fortunately one was tall and one was short, so they were known as Big Holly and Little Holly.

After dinner, Jaws and I helped Julie clean up, while Randie changed out of her uniform. She came back looking really slinky in a clingy black shirt and slacks, and Julie slipped into the bedroom with her before they said they were ready to go.

Randie drove us out there. The evening had gotten even colder. The heater was going full blast, but the Jeep window beside me still felt like ice. I looked outside. Bold constellations were the only light, burning above the silhouettes of pine trees bending and shaking in the wind. It was so dark and peaceful and perfect, sitting there in the back of the Jeep, with Randie and Julie in the front and Jaws next to me primly holding my hand. I wouldn’t have cared if some omnipotent presence had reached down and sealed us for all eternity in that moment in time.

There was no landmark for the Hollies, only an inconspicuous break in a low stone wall. I had passed by countless times without knowing what it was. Randie turned in, the gravel lane crunching under her tires. We followed the drive as it twisted through a thick grove of pines until we came to a clearing where the tidy brick inn was situated, its first story windows lit charmingly by single candles like something out of colonial times. Outside the Jeep, snatches of music were blown to us on the wind.

The Hollies were doing a business that Friday night. The parking lot was filled, mostly by cars with local license plates that had come for the evening, but also by some with out-of-state plates there for the weekend.

Randie put an arm around me and walked me toward the door, leaving Julie to take care of Jaws. “Whatever you see here stays here,” she said. “Okay?”

I nodded, quite curious now. As soon as we entered, shrugging off the chill, I understood why. I saw a couple of teachers from school at a table for two, leaning toward each other so closely their breasts nearly touched. I saw a softball coach from the team we beat in the semifinals melted against another woman in a slow dance, and if I wasn’t mistaken, I saw a U.S. senator, who must have arrived in that Mercedes in the parking lot with the out-of-state tags.

“Well, look who it is!” said a large woman with a voice to match. She strolled up as if she owned the place, which of course she did.

“Hello, Holly,” Randie said, a lilt of challenge in her tone. I wondered why, but not for long.

Holly wrapped Randie in a bone-crunching hug, and Randie crunched back. When their bodies finally separated, they left their hands locked in a sizzling grip that made them look like a couple of arm wrestlers sizing each other up for combat.

“What are you doing here, copper? My protection money is all paid up,” Big Holly said loudly. Heads turned. The U.S. senator looked as though she was going to pass out.

“Haven’t you heard? The rates are going up,” Randie said.

Big Holly disengaged from their handshake and gestured at me. “What’s this? A junior partner?”

“You guessed it,” Randie said.

“So I have to start paying for her, too?”

“Not necessarily. Only if you want to save your kneecaps,” Randie said.

Big Holly tried to say something back, but she couldn’t keep herself from laughing. Randie laughed, too, and they got so silly about it they set most of the customers off, too, particularly the ones who clearly had seen this routine before. The senator looked vastly relieved.

“So this is Kotter,” Big Holly said.

“Yeah, this is Kotter,” I said. The handshake she gave me was gentle, not at all the bearlike squeeze he had given Randie, and I took the opportunity to get a good look at her. Big Holly’s face was wide and open, her hair was red and pulled back, and her eyes were trusting, even though there was something in them that said her trust had been misplaced more than once. She seemed like someone who could handle the disappointment. I liked her, although of course I liked any friend of Randie’s.

Big Holly put us at a favored table she had saved for the occasion—in a corner by one of the candle-lit windows. Randie and Jaws drank beer, and Julie had Evian. I got the eye from Randie and drank Coke, even though I had learned to drink beer with the softball team last summer and Jaws and I had been sharing a bottle or two during our steamy sessions in her Mustang. Jaws took a long swallow, then leaned over and kissed me, and I loved the forbidden taste of it on her fervent lips. I had never kissed anyone in public before—Randie walking in on Shamrock and me didn’t count—and I felt the stirrings deep inside. Jaws and I danced close and slow, but then Randie took Jaws aside and spoke earnestly to her, and it looked as though their talk would go on for a long time, so I danced affectionately with Julie. I did not know what Randie and Jaws discussed, and I never asked. It didn’t matter, because I was sure nothing would go wrong.

Later we went back into the kitchen to meet Little Holly, and then Randie and Julie danced together, as electric as new lovers. In the course of the evening, it became natural to call Randie by her name, and another threshold was crossed.

The Hollies became very important in my life. Jaws and I went there a lot to dance and make the most of its dark and secret corners. Big Holly, who was the generous one, invited us to go into an unused room now and then, without charging us for it, and Little Holly, who had the business sense, didn’t make a fuss.

That was the way things went into the spring, when I finally had the showdown with Wendell and Lynn about not going to college and fled the house. It was so irrevocably grave that Randie didn’t even try to talk me into going back. Instead, she got the Hollies to take me in, giving me work in exchange for room and board and tips. Randie lent me money to buy a car and arranged for me to enroll in the criminal justice curriculum at the community college, starting in the summer session after I finished high school. I was on my way to being a cop.

Jaws graduated from Hillsboro College and went off to try out for the Olympic softball team. I was too busy to be lonely, and anyway, there were a lot of pretty women who made their way to the Hollies.

The next summer, when I was at Randie’s and Julie’s house, we watched the Olympics on television and saw that Jaws had, indeed, made the team. So had Shamrock. In fact, they were the winning battery—Shamrock pitching, Jaws catching—in the gold-medal game, won by the USA in a taut thriller, 1-0.

Afterwards, Randie chuckled. “You know what, Kotter?” she said. “I bet there isn’t anyone on this earth who got laid by the Olympic team more than you.”

Julie was pouring coffee. “I’ll say this for you, Kotter, you sure have a knack for romancing world-class athletes. First Shamrock, then Jaws and now Alie de Ville.”

“Who said anything about romancing Alie de Ville?” I protested.

Randie chuckled. “Come on, Kotter. Who do you think you’re trying to kid?”

“How do you figure it, Randie?” Julie said. “What is it about Kotter that has them dying to get her in the sack?”

“Well, it sure isn’t her good looks and personality,” Randie needled. She gave me a once-over so searching it could have taken X-rays. “It’s got to be that damn cocksure attitude. Those athletes have such an ego, they feel challenged, and they want to get her in bed and make her submit. You do submit, don’t you, Kotter?”

“For Christ’s sake, Randie!” I yelped.

The telephone rang. Randie glanced at the Caller ID. “Oh hell, it’s the desk sergeant. This can’t be good news.” She picked up the receiver. “Hello?…Yes, Mac, what’s up?...All right. Who’s on it?...Tell Rashad to put Potter on it, too. I know he’s supposed to have another day off, but the chief is going to have to show the mayor we’re doing everything we can...Don’t worry about that. I’ll handle it. Tell them I’m on my way.”

Randie hung up the phone. All the easiness of the evening had left her. She was a police captain again. “There was trouble at the tennis banquet tonight. A couple of goons jumped Papa de Ville in the parking lot while he was leaving. They got away. Now he’s demanding more security for Alie, but she wants no part of it. Kotter, do you have a change of clothes with you?”

“Sure,” I said. In this line of work, you always had to be prepared.