Bad Girls Don't (9 page)

“Yoga isn’t about pronto. It’s about concentration and meditation.”

“And sacks,” the coach reminded her. “And winning.”

“Yoga is process oriented, not goal oriented.” Skye paused to turn on the boom box. “It doesn’t matter how many times you perform a routine. The importance is that you are focused while performing it.”

“How can they focus with that damn music blaring?” the coach complained.

“It’s the Dave Matthews Band, and they like it.”

The coach’s look told her that was the wrong answer.

So she came up with another one. “I mean, it . . . uh . . . helps their concentration so they can win . . . uh . . . more sacks.”

“You don’t
win
sacks. Never mind. Just get on with it.” He stalked off.

Skye faced the team. This was only her second lesson, and there were still a few holdouts to the entire concept of their learning yoga. Rebels. Skye could relate. Being a rebel herself, she knew exactly which buttons to push to get them on the
ohm
track.

“If any of you think yoga is for sissies, I’m about to prove you wrong. You’ll be doing a series of exercises designed to work the entire body, strengthening it, making it more flexible, and giving you more balance. So let’s get started.”

Skye began with breathing exercises, worked into stretching exercises, and then led them in a series of poses that had all of them breaking a sweat by the end of the hourlong session.

The redheaded kicker came to Skye’s side while the other guys were still trying to recover from their power workout. “Lulu has a shirt like that.” He pointed to the “Got Brains?” T-shirt Skye wore with her cotton yoga pants.

“Yeah, she does.”

“I hear she’s got a job at Cosmic Comics.” His voice was kind of quiet and muffled with embarrassment.

“That’s right.”

He shuffled off without saying anything further.

Skye wanted to wrap things up, so she faced the team, getting their attention with a wave of her arms. “Remember, you cannot fail. There is no failure in yoga.”

“Yeah, well, there is failure in football,” Coach Spears growled as he rejoined them. “And we’ve had enough of it. Right, Trojans?”

“Right.”

“I didn’t hear you,” the coach barked. “Right, Trojans?”

“Escaped from any handcuffs lately?” Sister Mary greeted Skye as she entered the Sisters of the Poor Charity Thrift Shop later that day.

“Not lately, no. How about you?”

The nun laughed. “My handcuff-escaping days are behind me now.”

“Oh, come on. You never know. I mean, you were part of a sit-in just the other day.”

“True. I haven’t spoken to you since then. How are you doing?”

“Fine. Why?” Skye eyed her suspiciously. “What have you heard?”

“Nothing.” Sister Mary countered with a suspicious look of her own. “Why? What should I have heard?”

The nun’s words made Skye realize that since she’d spilled the beans about the winning lottery ticket to Nathan last night, he could have blabbed it all over town. But he hadn’t. At least not to Sister Mary. Or to anyone else Skye had run into so far today.

Before Skye could reveal her good news, Sister Mary was called away. Her place was taken by Wally Purdy, the assistant manager of the thrift store.

Wally was something of an eccentric, one of the special souls that the nun had taken under her wing over the years. He’d once confessed to Skye that he’d been an alcoholic most of his life, until Sister Mary had convinced him to get help. Skye didn’t know how long ago that was, or how old he was. Maybe in his forties? Age didn’t really matter to her. Nor did mistakes in a person’s past.

Wally had nondescript looks, dull brown hair and eyes, but he made up for that with his outfits. He took pleasure in wearing the most outlandish golf pants paired with an equally jarring shirt. Today, he’d teamed a Hawaiian shirt in shades of green and yellow with pink-and-white pants.

Skye admired Wally’s sense of individualism. Plus, she just plain liked the guy. He had a good heart and he colored outside the lines. Definitely her kind of person.

“Have you come about gravity?” Wally asked.

“Gravity?”

Wally nodded. “The kitten. She fell through a hole in the roof in the back and landed on a chair that had just been donated. That’s why I named her Gravity. I know that little girl of yours has been wanting a kitten for some time now. Want to see her?” Without waiting for an answer, Wally reached beneath the counter and pulled out a basket lined with a thick towel.

Curled up inside was the ugliest kitten Skye had ever seen. She was mostly black, with orange splotches all over her face and body. She looked as if she’d fallen into a jar of peanut butter.

Wally beamed. “Isn’t she adorable?”

Skye was instantly a goner.

“You’re not allowed to have pets in your apartment,” Sister Mary reminded her as she rejoined them.

Skye waved her words away. “That policy may be changing soon. Wally, can you take care of Gravity for me awhile?”

“Sure. She can stay with me here at the store and keep me company.”

“Just make sure she doesn’t get outside. It’s a dangerous world for a little thing like her.” Skye rubbed the scrawny kitten’s ears. The result was a mighty purr that would do a lion proud.

Wally grinned. “Dr. Flannigan the vet has already looked at her and given her some kitten shots. He says she’s in good health, just needs some TLC. And he wasn’t talking about The Learning Channel, either. He meant tender loving care.”

“That’s good to know.”

Wally nodded. “I thought so too.”

“Skye, what makes you think that your landlord is going to change his ‘no pets’ policy?” Sister Mary asked. “Or were you thinking of breaking that rule? And don’t give me that ‘Who, me?’ look. You know you like breaking rules. In fact, you thrive on it. Right, Wally?”

“Abs-o-tively, pos-a-lutely.” The phrase was Wally’s favorite.

“I only break rules that are meant to be broken,” Skye said.

Sister Mary appeared doubtful. “Right.”

“Like speed limits that make no sense.”

The nun immediately pounced. “Ah, I thought we’d get around to him.”

“Him?”

“Nate. The man who slapped those handcuffs on you.”

“And who looked so pissed off when I escaped from them.”

“You shouldn’t say
pissed
in front of a nun,” Wally whispered to Skye. “It’s not proper.”

“I’m rarely proper,” Skye replied. “Nothing I could say would freak out Sister Mary.”

“I wouldn’t go quite that far,” the nun said. “So, getting back to Nate . . .”

Skye rolled her eyes. “You’re not going to talk about sparks, are you? Between Studly Do-Right and me? Because I’ve already heard it from Sue Ellen.”

Wally frowned in confusion. “Who’s Studly Do-Right?” “Never mind.” Sister Mary patted his hand. “Why don’t you go get some of that kitty chow for your kitten?”

“She’s going to be Skye’s kitten soon.”

“I’m not even going to get into that discussion,” Sister Mary said after Wally had departed.

“Why not? I’d rather discuss Gravity than
him
.”

“He has a name. Nathan. Or Nate.”

“Nathan.” Skye shook her head. “That’s an old-fashioned name. Old-fashioned, just like him.”

“So now you’re judging the man based on his name?”

“No, based on the fact that he tried to give me a flyer for drug counseling. He thought I was an addict or something.”

“Did you correct him?”

“Abs-o-tively.” Skye began to casually browse through a rack of clothes.

“He’s a good man.”

“And I’m a bad girl. Not meant for an uptight guy like him.”

“Why not?”

“Why . . . not?” Skye actually sputtered. She couldn’t remember doing that before.

“Yes. Why not?” Sister Mary calmly repeated. “Don’t you think you’re good enough for him?”

“That’s not the issue.”

“Isn’t it?” Sister Mary gave her one of those intense looks that could zoom straight into your very soul.

“I kissed him,” Skye said casually. “We both agreed it was a mistake.”

When Sister Mary blinked, Skye was the one who pounced this time. “Aha! I surprised you, didn’t I?”

“Were you trying to surprise me?”

“By kissing him?” Skye grinned. “No, actually you didn’t enter my thoughts at the time at all.”

Sister Mary laughed. “I’m relieved to hear that.”

“Look, don’t spread it around town that I kissed him.”

“I won’t.”

“And don’t go getting any ideas about him and me. Because that’s not going to happen.”

“Whatever you say.”

“You could sound a little more convincing.”

“So could you,” Sister Mary said with a knowing smile.

On that note, Skye left the thrift store without buying anything and headed over to Cosmic Comics to say hi.

Algee greeted her with his milewide smile.

“So, how’s your new employee working out?” Skye blatantly pointed at Lulu before getting distracted by her friend’s clever T-shirt slogan.
Alcohol and calculus don’t mix. Never drink and derive.
“Hey, that reminds me . . . Lulu, there’s a dude on the football team who’s got a crush on you.”

“Dude?” Lulu raised a pierced eyebrow.

“Dude?” Algee shook his head. “You’ve been hanging out at Rock Creek High School too long.”

“Don’t you want to know who it is?” Skye asked Lulu.

“You already told me. Dude. That must be his name. Dud, more likely,” she muttered darkly.

“He likes the sayings on your T-shirts.”

“I’ll bet Dude-boy likes the saying on the cheerleaders’ T-shirts better. Printed right over their boobs is the offending comment ‘Who Needs Brains When You Have These?’ A bunch of us protested, staging a ‘girlcott’ of the stores that sold the T-shirts.”

Algee was amazed. “You’re making that up, right? The shirts don’t really say that, do they?”

Lulu nodded. “It’s called irony. But only if you actually
do
have a brain. Which they don’t.”

“Lulu doesn’t like cheerleaders,” Skye said to Algee.

“Yeah,” he noted dryly. “I detected that much myself.”

“And I haven’t even mentioned the Nipplegate incident of last year,” Lulu continued. “When cheerleader Brandi’s breast popped out of her minuscule halter top in a major wardrobe malfunction.”

Recognizing that Lulu was on her way to a rant, Skye decided to sidetrack her throwing out a little bait. “What about the dude who has a crush on you?”

“What about the dude who has a crush on
you
?” Lulu said, no wimp in the baiting department herself.

“I’d rather talk about the one who has a crush on you,” Skye replied.

“And I’d rather not.”

“Do either of these dudes have a name?” Algee asked.

Skye shrugged. “The football dude is Brock. Or Brad. Something like that. I’m not that good with names. I’ve only given the team two lessons.”

“Brad is the redheaded kicker and Brock is the jock quarterback,” Lulu stated.

“I thought you didn’t care who the dude was?”

“I don’t. Just like you don’t care about the sheriff and all those sparks between you two.”

“It’s not the same thing at all,” Skye said, hands on her hips.

“Time out.” Algee covered his ears. “Too much girl talk.”

“I agree,” Nathan said, strolling out from a side aisle.

Once again, he was out of uniform and looking entirely too sexy in jeans and another plain, slogan-free T-shirt. Skye’s gaze was instantly drawn to his mouth and the lips that she’d kissed, tasted, nibbled, wanted to kiss again . . .

Her brief lapse into feebleminded fantasyland aggravated Skye. So naturally she took it out on Nathan. “What are you doing here? Is no place safe anymore?”

“What could be safer than having an officer of the law on the premises?”

“Did you know he was here?” Skye asked Lulu.

She shook her head. “He must have come in before I got here. I only arrived a few minutes ago.”

Skye turned with an accusatory glare toward Algee. “Well,
you
must have known he was in here.”

“Don’t answer that on the grounds that you might incriminate yourself,” Nathan advised Algee.

The two men grinned at each other. The room’s testosterone level immediately skyrocketed, which drove Skye crazy.

“Oh, get over yourselves,” she snapped. “Next thing you know, you’ll be slapping butts like the guys on the football team.”

“Yeah, what is
that
about?” Lulu asked with a roll of her eyes.

“Men.” Skye did an eye roll of her own. “You can’t live with them, and you can’t . . . shoot them.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” Skye would have felt better had the drawled words not come from Nathan. She just hated his having the last word. Unfortunately, he left before she could come up with something suitably sarcastic.

No problem. She’d get him next time.

 

 

“Adam Kemp here.”

Upon hearing Adam’s voice, Angel froze, then immediately ended the call she’d just placed to him. She stared down at the cell phone that Julia had gotten for her before leaving town, as if it held the answer to why she’d chickened out and hung up.

Startled when it rang a moment later, she automatically answered. “Hello?”

“Why did you call me and then hang up?” Adam demanded.

“How did you know it was me?”

“I have caller ID. Your cell phone number came up. So I just hit star-six-nine.”

Angel had no idea what he was talking about—not that unusual an occurrence, actually. He threw her off balance, which made her defensive. This despite the fact that her horoscope had claimed today was a good day to take action. “Why did you call me?”