Justice For Abby (7 page)

He wrapped his arms tighter around her without his typical hesitation and turned, taking the brunt of the unforgiving winds. “Congratulations, Abby. Your vision’s going to help a lot of people.”

“Thank you.” She grinned as he did, savoring this perfect moment. Then she remembered yesterday. “I’m sorry.”

His smile turned into a frown. “For what?”

“For yesterday.”

He shook his head. “It’s over. We’re here. You’re safe. That’s all that matters.”

“But I—”

“Water under the bridge, Abby.”

“Okay.”

“Now can we go inside?”

She smiled. “Yes.”

“Thank god.” He winked.

She laughed and took his hand, walking back into Lily’s bedroom as his cell phone started ringing.

He stopped and pulled his phone free, glancing at the readout. “It’s Austin. We should go.” He pressed ‘talk.’ “Quinn. Yeah. We’re ready.” He grabbed her hand and they moved down the hall as he continued his conversation.

Abby gave Lily a wave on the way out, listening to Jerrod spew his jargon, watching him move his jacket so his weapon was at the ready. The magic of the evening quickly vanished when he opened the door, keeping her close, and Austin met them. There were no more princes and princesses or pretty roses and candlelight. She still had her clothing line, but she also had her grim reality.

Jerrod stood close to the stage, scanning the small
group of parents and faculty members scattered among the first few rows of auditorium seating. For two hours he’d watched the double doors and stage exits closely, making certain everyone entering or exiting wore a red badge identifying them as a member of South Central High’s Day of Fashion. He checked his watch in the dim lighting, counting down the minutes until he could get Abby out of here, tensing when the auditorium doors opened for the umpteenth time. His gaze flew to the woman stepping in, and he automatically searched for a tag on her shirt, relaxing—sort of—when he spotted it.

Today should have been a cakewalk. Abby had helped Lily host a similar event with the same group of kids earlier in the fall. The aspiring designers were supposed to share their sketches and the outfits they’d created, get a few critiques, then eat a catered lunch in the faculty lounge down the hall. That was it, end of story, gravy, but nothing was as simple as it had been in October. Instead of enjoying an easy morning of watching Abby interact with a great group of teenagers, he was on high alert, waiting for something to go wrong. He was expecting it.

Lily’s plan to turn the media in her favor had worked in spades. The newspapers and entertainment rags no longer focused on underpaid models and prostitution; instead, they filled the headlines with misinformation—from the practical to the absurd—speculating on the identity of Lily’s new mystery designer. Abby remained in the clear for now; her name had yet to be mentioned, but she was going to have to throttle back—all the way back before their luck ran out and she was discovered. And today could be that day.

Although Lily kept her at-risk youth program discreet, it was only a matter of time before someone caught wind that Lily was spending the morning at the university. Locked doors and the rent-a-cop stationed outside the building wouldn’t keep reporters hunting for the next Lily Brand story away for long.

He glanced at his watch again as Abby’s laughter carried through the huge space, accompanied by chuckles from her captive audience crowded around her on the stage floor. She sat with Lily among their ‘apprentice team’ of ten young men and women, relaxed with her hair up in a pony tail, wearing a red button down sweater with a snug black shirt beneath, dark blue jeans and black boots. Lily was certainly the money behind today’s event, but Abby was the star. The kids adored her, hanging on her every word as she answered their endless questions and offered hints and suggestions when she held up each students’ sketch one by one.

She loved being here. Her enthusiasm was genuine, her passion infectious. He hated that he had to worry more about door duty, red stickers, and exit plans than the good Abby was doing, but that’s the way it was.

She glanced up, meeting his eyes for a tense moment, then gave her attention back to her group. They’d argued again this morning. Despite every logical reason he’d given her for canceling her appearance, she’d refused.
They need me, Jerrod. This might be their only shot at something better.
Her heated words echoed in his head as he scanned the crowd.

A month ago, he would have been all for her participation; hell, even a week ago this wouldn’t have been a big deal, but that was before the media circus unknowingly joined in the hunt for Abigail Harris.

“Latisha,” Abby got to her feet, smiling at the pretty girl. “Why don’t you show us your sample?”

“Sure.” Latisha hopped to her feet and stood next to Abby in front of the group.

“All right, let’s see what you have this time around.” Abby rubbed her hands together greedily, earning another round of chuckles.

Latisha hesitated. “I don’t think it’s very good.”

“Why don’t you let me be the judge?”

“Okay.” She unfolded a solid black dress with a vivid, multi-colored flower sewn on the side and a tank top matching the bright bloom.

Abby blinked. “Latisha, this is great.”

The girl beamed. “Really?”

“Yes. Really. Lily, do you agree?”

"Absolutely."

“Thanks.”

Abby took the dress from Latisha. “Your design has great cohesion, not to mention amazing flow. This is very summery. I would wear it.”

Latisha eyed her skeptically.

“I’ll put it on right now. We’ll use this as one of our examples of clean lines and excellent movement. Jeremiah, why don’t I take your top too? I think your shirt and Latisha’s skirt will pair well.”

Latisha’s eyes filled with guarded excitement as Abby started toward the small dressing space and a camera flashed. Jerrod focused on the heavyset woman snapping picture after picture in the front row—Latisha’s mother no doubt—and walked toward her.

“Excuse me, ma’am.” He smiled. “I’m afraid this is a non-photographed event.”

“I’m taking a picture of my baby girl. Ms. Abby says she makes great stuff.”

“You must be very proud. The dress is beautiful,” he added, still going with tact before he was forced to take the camera away, which more than likely wouldn't go over well. “We’re trying hard to protect Lily’s privacy right now with all of the media buzz. She wants to be able to do this for the kids without drawing attention. It keeps the day special. Lily will take pictures with everyone during the lunch break.”

Latisha’s mother eyed him, then huffed. “All right. If that’s the way you want it.” She shoved the camera in her enormous purse.

“For Lily and the kids,” he reminded her as he let out a quiet sigh. The last thing the needed was a Lily Brand brawl adding to the headlines.

Latisha’s mother grumbled as she took her seat.

“I appreciate it, as does Lily.”

The kids clapped, and Jerrod turned, smiling as Abby stepped from the small dressing space, strutting around the stage in the snug, roughly sewn tank top created by Jeremiah and the pretty skirt Latisha made.

“So, what do you think? Constructive thoughts only.” She stood hipshot, then turned, walking as she had hundreds of times in their dining room. Even with the shoddy tailoring, she made the outfit look great. “Let’s start with what we like, then we’ll move on to what our designers could do to improve their techniques. Tamara, your hand is up.”

“The pattern is off on the shirt, but the fabric is a nice choice.”

Abby nodded. “I absolutely agree. A design is only as good as the fabric. The sketch might be great, but if the actual piece doesn’t translate well, your back to the drawing board. Jeremiah, I like the fit, but something fell apart during assembly right here around my arms.” She pointed to the lopsided sewing by her armpits. “Let your mannequin be your guide. If it doesn’t look right on her, it won’t look right on me.”

Jeremiah nodded. “Thank you, Ms. Abby, but I don’t have a mannequin.”

“Oh.” Abby looked from Jeremiah to Lily. “Okay, well, there are ways to get around that.”

“Abby, I think we can help Jeremiah out.” Lily stood and walked to the draped platform crowding the right side of the stage. “Actually, I think we can help all of our designers out. Abby, can you grab the other end.”

“Sure.” Abby moved to the opposite side taking hold of the huge sheet.

Lily gave a nod, and they pulled the cover back, revealing mannequins, sewing machines, laptops, sketching paper, scissors, and the dozens of other items similar to the ones Abby had scattered about her bedroom and the dining room.

A gasp went up from the students and crowd.

“Lily Brand is happy to share these items with South Central’s fashion classroom,” Lily said.

The kids jumped up, laughing and screaming, running forward to hug Lily and Abby.

Abby embraced each student, kissing cheeks before she would let them step away. Several minutes passed before the room quieted again.

“All right, guys. Park your butts so we can keep this session on track.” Lily pointed to the stage floor.

“But, Lily, don’t you have something else?” Abby asked.

“You know what? I do. Go ahead and tell them.”

Grinning, Abby clasped her hands, all but vibrating with the anticipation of sharing good news. "Lily Brand not only has sewing suites for the classroom; she also has one for each of you to take home.”

Stunned silence filled the room, and Jerrod braced himself, ready for the next round of excitement as the auditorium erupted with screams. Latisha’s mother grabbed him up in a death grip hug as she jumped about. He laughed, hugging her back, unable to remain unmoved by Lily’s amazing gesture and what it meant to these struggling families. He caught Abby’s eye as she smiled at him, and he winked.

“We’ll also include a ten-thousand-dollar fabric allowance for the classroom,” Lily hollered, “and you’ll each be given a one-thousand-dollar stipend to use as well.”

“Oh, Lord, I think I’m going to pass out,” Latisha’s mother sobbed.

Jerrod guided her to her seat, patting her shoulder, crouching next to her, afraid she would fall to the floor. “Take some deep breaths.”

"I'm trying." She breathed deep, fanning her hands in front of her face.

"That's it. Just like that." He stood.

“Practice makes perfect,” Lily continued. “You’re all good, but when we meet again this spring, I want great. Everyone is welcome to come over for a closer look at your new stuff. We’ll gather in the faculty lounge in twenty minutes for lunch.”

Everyone moved passed Abby as she descended the four stairs to the main floor, stopping next to Jerrod’s side. “I—”

“Can you believe our luck?” Tamara rushed up to Abby, giving her another huge hug.

Abby eased back, taking Tamara’s hands. “Lily sees
a lot
of potential. So do I. You guys keep this up and maybe we’ll see you on the Lily Brand team in a few years.”

Tamara nodded and stepped away, smiling up at Jerrod from under her long lashes. “Hi, Mr. Jerrod.”

He smiled. She was always so friendly. “Hey, Tamara.”

“Did you like the shirt I made?”

He had no idea who made what other than Jeremiah and Latisha, and that was only because Abby was still wearing their clothes. “Yeah. It was great,” he said anyway.

She smiled again. “Great. Okay. Thanks. See ya.”

“Bye.” He watched Tamara run off and faced Abby as she grinned at him. “What?”

“She’s got a crush on you, big guy.”

He frowned as he looked at Latisha’s mother on stage. “Who?”

She rolled her eyes. “Why are men so dense?”

He opened his mouth to respond as Jeremiah stopped next to Abby this time.

“Ms. Abby, can I interview you for the school paper?”

“Yes, of course. Just let me change first. I’m freezing.”

“Thanks. I’ll get my notebook.”

“Give me five minutes, and I’ll meet you back here.”

“Awesome.” Jeremiah hurried off, and Abby turned to leave.

Jerrod grabbed her arm before she could walk off. “Abby, what are you doing?”

“I’m getting changed.”

He shook his head. “No, the article. You’re taking too many risks.”

She pulled free of his grip as any remnants of the peaceful moment they shared vanished. “I’m just trying to do my job, Jerrod, and today that’s helping these kids stay on the right path.”

It annoyed him that she kept painting him as the bad guy. “I get the purpose of the program, Abby. If the situation wasn’t what it is, I’d be all for your interviews and guest appearances.”

“This is for a high school in the projects. I doubt Dimitri or Victor obtained a teaching license in the past six months, and I’m pretty sure Jeremiah’s story won’t be picked up by the AP wire anytime soon.”

He clenched his jaw as his irritation grew with her haughty tone. “You’re making it really damn hard for me to do what I have to for
your
protection.”

She sighed as she closed her eyes. “I know.” She placed her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. I’ll keep it short and vague. They’re counting on me.”

“Abby," he trailed off as the woman wearing a black cap in back of the auditorium caught his attention. He searched for her red tag in the crappy lighting, but she turned, heading toward the double doors, before he had a chance to spot it. “Do you know who that is?”

She studied their mystery guest. “No, I don’t think so.”

He was going to find out. “Don’t leave the auditorium,” he called behind him as he started up the aisle. “Excuse me, ma’am.”

The stranger looked over her shoulder and moved faster.

There was something familiar about her. Frowning, Jerrod picked up his pace. “Hey.”

She pushed through the double doors, and the bright sunlight washed over her pale blond hair and sun-kissed skin.

Toni Torrell. “Damn it.” He broke into a run, following her to the hall as she sprinted for the elevator door, sliding closed behind the group that just exited. She made it inside, jamming on the buttons, disappearing behind the shiny metal.

"Fuck." He could do nothing but wait for the panel above the doors to display her destination. A bright red eight filled the small screen, and he rushed to the stairwell, hustling up the four stories, well aware that the likelihood of finding her was slim. The building was huge, and there were too many exits. Keeping Abby close was more important than a fruitless chase.

Turning, he started back down and stopped by the grouping of windows as he caught sight of the pain-in-the-ass reporter running to her car with something in her hand—a camera no doubt. "Fuck," he said again as he yanked his phone from the holder and dialed Ethan.

“Cooke.”

“It’s Quinn,” he said, still catching his breath as he continued on his way. “We have a potential breech. Toni Torrell was in the auditorium. I don’t know if she got pictures of Lily or Abby or both.”

“Damn. Hunter and I are in the area—on our way back from the meeting with Imagine Entertainment. We can be there in ten.”

“We’ll meet you outside the west entrance. Goddamn. I knew this was going to happen.” He hung up and yanked open the door, moving quickly but calmly toward Abby as she finished her interview.

"Thanks, Ms. Abby," Jeremiah said.

"I'm happy to help. Now, let’s eat lunch.” She looked at Jerrod as he continued her way. "Go ahead, Jeremiah. I'll be right there."