Maybe This Time (The Educators Book 3) (5 page)

Once inside the huge house, they went up to Schmooze’s room which was down a long hallway. Steph bet that even if her parents
were
home, they’d never hear Schmooze do anything because her private space was so far away from theirs.

Schmooze went to a small fridge and took out a six pack. Tossing a can to each of them, she flopped down on her sleigh bed; Catherine crossed to the big couch on one side and took up residence; Mitzy snagged the chaise. Stephanie dropped to the floor, covered in a thick strawberry rug.

“So, anybody got any ideas?” Catherine asked. “My dad’s still on my ass about being suspended.”

“Sugar in his gas tank?” Mitzy suggested.

“Not personal enough.” This from Schmooze.

Catherine offered, “I read online about the kids who flooded one of their teachers’ rooms.”

Schmooze shook her head. “Somebody else’ll clean it up for him.”

Steph tossed in calling his wife and pretending to be Tom Tom’s girlfriend.

“That has potential, kid. If she’d believe another woman would ever be interested in him.” Schmooze shivered. “He’s so skeevy, he gives me the creeps.”

When they went on to their second beer and fourth cigarette, the suggestions got wilder. And a few were dangerous--a bucket of tar rigged to fall in on him when he walked into his office, oil on the floor of the classroom, leaking gas in the science lab.

Around six, Stephanie told them she had to leave, which meant somebody else did, too, in order to drive her home.

Schmooze said, “I’ll take ya, but I wanna show you something first.” She walked to her dresser and opened a drawer. From inside she drew out a steel box. She removed a key from another drawer and unlocked the box, but blocked everybody’s view of what was in it.

They all got quiet until Schmooze whipped around and pointed a gun a three of them. “How about this, ladies? It’s a lot better than tar or oil or gas.”

Stephanie felt sick to her stomach.

o0o

 Gage arrived home at eight, a lot later than he wanted to, but a big client had come into the office without an appointment and he was the guy’s lawyer, so it was up to him to handle the situation. Exhausted, wanting a drink and a news show, he still had to deal with his daughter. He hadn’t considered the fact that taking her phone away meant he’d be unable to reach her, so he was in the dark about what she’d done today.

And feeling guilty about the lateness of the hour because of Delaney’s advice.

He found her in her room watching TV. He’d thought about taking that away, too, but how much was enough? If he could only answer that question. He knocked from the doorway but she didn’t look at him. He sniffed. Usually this space smelled feminine with creams and powders and hairspray. Tonight, a different scent permeated the air. He walked inside and over to the big bed. Booze, that was it. And cigarettes? His temper spiked. He’d been dealing with this crap from her for two days, he’d given up what could have been an interesting relationship for her and he worked like a dog to give her material things. “What the hell have you been doing?”

She flicked him a look then her gaze went back to the TV.

“Whatever do you mean, Pops?”

“Don’t sass me, young lady. I smell booze and cigarettes.”

“Oh, that. I was at a friend’s.”

Reaching down, he took the remote from the bed and clicked the screen off. “You’re grounded, that’s what. You were told to come right home.”

“So sue me.” She laughed, and it was such an ugly sound he did a double take at his little girl. “Get it, Dad?”

Totally drained, he sat down on the bed. “Stephanie, what am I supposed to do with you?”

She inched away to the other side of the mattress. “Get off my bed.”

He didn’t, though his heart twisted in his chest at the reaction to his nearness. He remembered how she used to cuddle with him on the couch to watch Saturday morning cartoons. “Who are these friends?”

“None of your business.”

Damn it. He wanted to show her how much he cared, but he had to be a parent, too. Delaney didn’t understand that.

“I said
go away
!”

He stood, angry now, because it was easier than feeling the hurt. “Here’s the deal, Stephanie. I’m not going anywhere. And neither are you. If you won’t do as I say, I’ll file for a PINS petition. Do you know what that is?”

“No.”

“It’s when the court takes over a child’s supervision.”

“Meaning?”

“A hearing will be set up to determine if you’re in need of legal help. There are several steps to this, but the upshot is someone will be appointed to supervise you and keep track of your behavior. You could be temporarily placed in foster care. Or I know cases where the family hired a guardian to take the child to school, pick her up and stay with her while her parents work.”

“I’d run away from a freakin’ babysitter or a foster home.”

“Then the court will issue a warrant, arrest you and you’ll be put on probation. If you violate the probation, you’ll be sent to a secure facility.”

“You wouldn’t do that! What happens to your reputation in the legal world?”

“I work in Rochester. No one knows much about my personal life. Believe me, young lady, it’ll be a lot worse for you than me. So maybe you should think about your choices and which is the best—or worst—scenario—for you.”

He grabbed the remote and put it in his pocket. The TV in here was the kind you could only switch on with the device. “Do you have your school books with you?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Because you’re confined to this room the rest of the night. Do your homework and go to bed.”

Stephanie watched him like he was a monster. Hell, maybe he was. He was dancing in the dark with her, going on gut instinct, and who knew if he was right to be doing what he did.

Try talking to her.

She wants your attention.

She loves you…

You couldn’t prove Delaney’s claims by Steph’s behavior. Nothing he did worked so far and he was tired of his daughter’s disobedience.

o0o

Delaney stayed after school to read the student journals because she’d let them choose the type of book to write in and decorate covers. Consequently, many of them were big and unwieldy.

At her desk, she popped a can of soda and, relishing the cool liquid on a scratchy throat from talking all day, she rummaged through the stack. Though grading papers was a chore, especially for an English teacher, going through the journal entries was not. Some assignments were directed specifically at the lessons they were doing, but they could also write personal entries, too, if they wanted. Of course, she picked out Stephanie’s first.

Her cover was interesting, like one Delaney might have done in high school. The whole front was black with pink crisscrossing, which resembled the streaks in Steph’s hair. In between were question marks, ellipses, and exclamation points, as if the girl were searching for answers and making statements of her own.

Delaney read the first entry.

The Father of the Year has done it again. Do you know what a PINS petition is? Has any kid you’ve taught had one? Good old dad threatened me with one last night. He says if I don’t behave he’ll get the court to supervise me. Don’t know if he’d go through with it, or if he can without Mom’s permission. I heard from her, by the way, she’s in Paris. I think with a guy. Geez. Nobody wants me—see I was right about Dad. He’ll dump me into the legal system without a second thought.

When Delaney put the book down, she took several deep breaths. She knew about PINS, from school, of course. But Delaney’s drug addicted mother also had one taken out on her. It had resulted in Delaney being placed in her first foster home. Clearly, a PINS petition was used as a last resort. Had Gage given up on his kid?

I’m afraid I’ve gotten the distinct displeasure of being the disciplinarian…sometimes, I wake up at night and wonder how things got this way
.

Delaney considered how to handle this new development. She wanted to tell Steph that her father probably didn’t mean he wouldn’t abandon her, but how could Delaney be sure? Other than sexually, she didn’t really know the guy. Maybe he
would
give his daughter away. If that was the case, Delaney would be lucky to be rid of him.

Still, she should at least discuss this newest thing with him. He’d asked for her help and damned if she wasn’t going to give it. Or abandon Steph like the adults in Delaney’s life had abandoned her.

She crossed to her computer on the side of the room. Gage had given her his email address; she’d ask to see him. Today, if possible, before she responded to Steph’s journal entry or talked to the girl. She sent a message indicating that, read another journal then checked her email. He’d responded right away.

Come to my office? I have back to back meetings until four (I’m on my blackberry) then another at five.

She checked the clock. She could make if she left right now.

Feeling jittery as she hurried out of school, Delaney found her little blue Mazda in the parking lot. She’d splurged on the car when she got tenure and because she’d always wanted something sporty. It was also a symbol of how far she’d come from the dingy apartment she’d lived in with her mother, and father for a while before he took off when Delaney was six. She’d learned the symbol trick early on—to have tangible reminders of who you were and what you’d accomplished in life.

As she drove downtown, her mind kept drifting back to Gage and she felt a spark of excitement at seeing him again even under these circumstances. She parked in a garage across from his office and took the skyway over to a large reception area. A woman in a black suit and a blouse that was so stiff Delaney wanted to poke it to see if it cracked, asked, “May I help you?”

“I’m here to see Gage Grayson.”

The woman gave her a once over. Today Delaney wore a short black skirt, patterned stockings and black stacked clogs. A light black sweater with bold flowers in the front completed the outfit. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail on the side top of her head. She probably looked like a punk, and for the first time in quite a while, she was embarrassed by her appearance. Shit, where had that come from? She worked hard at accepting herself, her style. Brazenly she lifted her chin when the woman asked, “Do you have an appointment?”

No, I came to screw him on his couch,
the old Delaney would say, but instead, she told the woman, “I just spoke with him and he said he could squeeze me in.”

Oh, squeeze, right there, oh man, Delaney.

Damn it. These images popped out of nowhere at the most awkward times. She rode the elevator to the nineteenth floor bombarded by thoughts of being in bed with the man she was about to see.

The man who worked in a skyscraper downtown.

The man whose floor shimmered with money and sophistication.

The man who had a corner office filled, she saw when he called for her to enter, with white leather furniture and wool rugs, a bar and a huge desk that curved around into several work areas.

He stood as she walked in. His suit was heather brown and went great with his coloring. “Hi, Delaney. I didn’t expect to see you so soon and then got your email.”

“We said we’d chat occasionally about Steph.”

His smile was amused. “Yes, two days ago.”

Was that condescension? “If I’m imposing, I can email you again regarding your daughter.”

His brow furrowed. Today his hair was styled perfectly and the rich color was highlighted in the overhead lighting. “No, no, of course not. I didn’t mean that I was too busy to talk about Steph.” His mouth curved up and the dimples appeared. “Actually, I’m very glad to see you.”

“You won’t be,” she said, angry at her own insecurity. It was one of the worst feelings in the world.

He motioned to the couch and they both sat. The cushions were soft and the leather felt like butter. “She told you about my threat last night.” It wasn’t a question.

“In a journal entry due today. Gage, are you serious about getting a PINS petition?”

“Truthfully, I felt terrible this morning that I threatened her. But then on my way to work I got thinking about it. I’m at my wit’s end, Delaney. I can’t let her run wild but she refuses follow any rules. Though I gave her phone back today and she called me to say she was at school.”

“When we talked Monday, you were on board with trying to communicate better.”

“Did she tell you in that journal entry what she did after detention yesterday?”

“No.”

“I see. I wonder if she ever gives you the whole story.”

Delaney was offended by that. “What do you mean?”

“Maybe she only tells you what she knows will make you sympathetic to her.”

For Stephanie’s sake, Delaney brushed away her very substantial pique at his words. “Let’s leave that discussion for another time. What did she do?”

 He explained her actions the day before.

“Damn it, she shouldn’t be hanging with those girls.” Delaney had told Steph that a million times. “I think they make her feel grown up, but they’re troublemakers. Schmooze especially.”

“Is that a real name?”

“No, she’s Sara Simpson. Tom Speranza refuses to call her by her nickname, and I think the girl gives him grief because of it.”

“What happened to the friends Stephanie used to hang out with? They were sweet, and her age.”

How much should Delaney reveal? Damn, she’d simply have to use her best judgment here. “After the divorce, Steph became a loner in school. Literally, she dropped all her old crowd.”

“Why?”

“I think unconsciously she felt people she cared about could abandon her at any time so she didn’t want to risk close friendships.”

“Because of me?”

“Not necessarily. Or not only you, anyway. Her mother takes off whenever she pleases.”

“I can’t control Andrea’s behavior, only my own.”

“Is there a way you can spend more time with Steph?”

“She doesn’t want that.”

“I told you, I think she does.”

“Even if we assume that’s true, I can’t be with Steph all the time. She’ll still hang out with those girls after school.”