Between the Lines E-Book

KD Williamson

• Herausgeber: Ylva Publishing
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 594

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017

Beschreibung

A psychiatrist and a rookie cop collide under pressure—can love survive danger, family, and desire in this lesbian romance? Psychiatrist Dr. Tonya Preston lives a life of cool detachment, often sacrificing her personal needs to appease her opinionated father. She often finds it easier to deal with patients than confront her family or her own issues. When her path dramatically crosses that of irrepressible rookie police officer Haley Jordan, she's thrown out of her comfort zone. Things have come easy for Haley, who has a drama-free life filled with love and friends that Tonya finds as alluring as the irreverent woman behind the badge. An attraction simmers between them, drawing them to each other. But will it be enough when work, family and a confronting police case starts to tear at their fledgling relationship?

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Other books in the SeriesCops and Docs

Blurred Lines

Crossing Lines

Table of Contents

Other books in the Series Cops and Docs

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Epilogue

About KD Williamson

Other Books from Ylva Publishing

Blurred Lines

In a Heartbeat

Flinging It

Four Steps

Coming from Ylva Publishing

Falling Hard

Under Parr

Dedication

To my Michelle, I may not be a romantic in real life, but loving you has opened my mind creatively. To MB, who always gives me the truth whether I like it or not; you are way too perky to exist. To my mother, I know you tried to teach me well, and it worked for the most part. My potty mouth isn’t your fault. I put the blame on Trump. Thanks to Ylva and Jove Belle who helped to make this happen.

Chapter 1

“You heard this story how many times now? Ain’t you tired of it?”

Instead of responding, Dr. Tonya Preston smiled softly. The leather chair groaned as she leaned back and continued to observe her client.

She and Oleta always started out this way. There would be a few more questions, a few more attempts at hedging the issue before they got to the meat of the situation. Oleta refused to look at her. Her gaze was frozen on some invisible point on the floor. Her hands trembled, and she tried to hide it by wringing them.

“You not fixin’ me. What kind of doctor are you? That medicine don’t work. Yah heard me?”

“Oleta, look at me.” It was Tonya’s turn to lead the dance.

Reluctantly, Oleta raised her head. Her eyes were red-rimmed and accusatory. “I know what you gone say.”

“Tell me.” Tonya’s tone was firm but coaxing.

Oleta pursed her lips, making the lines around her mouth more prominent. She looked all of her sixty-seven years plus a few extra. “It’s gone work when I’m ready fo it to.”

Tonya nodded.

“But I’m fine e’ry other day…e’ry other month. Don’t need ’em then.” Oleta looked away, as if trying to outrun the lie. “It’s been three years since I been back…seven since it happened. I ain’t weak.”

“No, nowhere near it,” Tonya agreed. But, as July rolled in, Oleta stopped sleeping. Then she stopped eating. It was a potent combination and marked the beginning of a depressive episode.

Oleta yanked the left leg of her pajamas up and pulled the tube sock up as far as it would go. Her fingers were gnarled, dry, and a little swollen, hinting at arthritis. She repeated the process, as if fortifying her armor before battle. Tonya watched patiently and hoped that one day Oleta would realize that they weren’t on opposite sides and that the war she envisioned was within herself.

“Yes, indeed. Look atcha. Some pretty mixed girl all rich and shit. You could pass fo white if you wanted. Whatchu know ’bout it? Whatchu know ’bout sufferin’ at all?”

Tonya didn’t take offense at the anger or the terseness in Oleta’s voice. “I only know what you’ve told me, but no, our experiences were not the same. I didn’t lose my home, and I had the ability to leave,” Tonya repeated for the third time in as many years.

Oleta started wringing her hands again, and the tremor increased. “I ain’t neva known my street to be quiet like it was that day. I was used to that stupid music and all kinds of racket.”

She glanced away, hands fisted, and when she looked back, there were tears in her eyes. Tonya took a deep breath and listened. She wondered how far they would get this time. This year.

“That water…roared like some kinda monster. It ate my baby and came for me. The devil is a liar and so is God.” Oleta’s chest started to heave, and her breathing hitched. “I was done livin’. She just started. Don’t make no sense.” She shook her head, and her tears fell in earnest. “Don’t make no damn sense.”

Oleta whispered the words over and over. She rediscovered that spot on the floor.

Tonya looked on for a little while longer, knowing that they’d hit a wall. Previously, Oleta had refused to give her granddaughter a name and avoided terms of endearment. That wasn’t the case anymore, so they’d made some progress. Tonya reached forward to touch Oleta’s knee. In turn, Oleta covered her hand and squeezed tightly.

It was only the second week of July, and there had already been several intakes. By the time the anniversary of Hurricane Katrina came around, there would be more.

She took her hand away and stood. “I’ll get Stephanie.”

Oleta didn’t acknowledge Tonya as she looked toward the door. The mental health tech stationed outside finally turned and peered through the glass. Tonya nodded. A few seconds later, he entered, and a woman in scrubs stepped in behind him. The nurse, Stephanie Chambers, smiled at Tonya. She gave a slight tilt of her head in return.

Stephanie glared, rolled her eyes, and gave her attention to their patient instead. “We ready to go, Mrs. Oleta?”

Tonya almost smiled. It was strange that after almost a year, Stephanie still got irritated by what she termed Tonya’s shield of professionalism. Yes, they were friends, but within these walls they functioned more as supervisor/supervisee, with well-defined boundaries. With three psychiatric nurses, four mental health techs, a social worker, twelve adult beds, and Tonya herself, they were in very close quarters during their shift, even though they had their own wing at Universal Hospital.

Oleta didn’t say anything, but she stood.

The mental health tech didn’t look at Tonya at all. He didn’t speak either. His demeanor was a direct result of the behavior she exhibited daily. Tonya’d heard the rumors about herself, thanks to Stephanie. Most thought she was uppity and unable to mix with the common, less educated folk. They were all dead wrong, of course. Still, everyone worked together to do their jobs and treated each patient with respect. That was the most important thing.

Tonya went back to her desk and unlocked the bottom drawer. She pulled out her handbag and headed into her private bathroom. With a critical eye, she gave herself the once-over. Soft pink lipstick complemented her lighter skin tone and accentuated the full curve of her lips. Oleta was right. She could pass for a tanned white person at first glance, not that she would ever try. That just wasn’t her thing. Tonya pushed the thought away. She’d always thought her nose was way too small for her face, especially with her glasses, which she rarely wore.

Unfortunately, today the glasses had been necessary as she was waiting on new contacts. Tonya wrinkled her nose in irritation, exposing a hint of dimples. She pulled the square black frames from her face and set them on the sink. She blinked and leaned closer to the mirror as she fiddled with her mass of professionally styled curls, natural just like her mother’s. Tonya’s appearance was immaculate, cool and unruffled. Her clothing was an important part of the façade.

Tonya’s purse vibrated, which was unusual.

Call me when u get this.

She stared at the message for a couple seconds. Tracy didn’t usually text her while she was working, so there had to be something going on. “Here we go. Should be interesting.”

Her sister’s phone rang twice.

“Okay. Three things. Men suck. I’m bored because some of my classes are dry as hell no matter how the professors try to spin them, and I have some good news!” Tracy’s voice went up a couple of octaves.

Tonya blinked. “I’m going to ignore the first statement because you say that all the time.”

“Well, maybe I keep hoping that your comeback will be that women are the same. Give me some hope that the struggle is real, even for you.”

For a few seconds, Tonya was quiet, simply because she didn’t know what to say. Her sexuality wasn’t a secret from her family, but by unspoken agreement, it was something they didn’t discuss. Her father had never said the word lesbian. It didn’t feel right to even broach the topic with Tracy. Instead, Tonya side-stepped the subject. “What do you mean…even for me?”

Tracy scoffed, and Tonya could practically hear her eyes roll.

“Please, you’re hot, even in those yesteryear glasses, and just because you don’t talk about it, somebody has to be taking care of home base. It can’t stay dusty.”

Tonya’s mouth fell open. “What did you just say?”

Tracy groaned. “Jesus, thirty-six isn’t that damn old. Forget it. I know you know what I mean, so I’m letting it go.”

“I’m fine with that. Getting back on topic…” Tonya hesitated. “As far as I know, no one ever said getting a Master’s in Education was sexy, and should I be sitting down for the third thing?”

“Very cute and a little sloppy. I did say I was letting it go. Anyway, it’s way sexier than psychiatry. Easier to spell and not as messy.”

Tonya smiled slightly, thankful to escape further awkwardness. “I like my mess.” Besides, everyone else’s lives were a lot easier to deal with and a lot more interesting than her own.

“Yes, I know, and no, you don’t need to sit down. I pretty much got offered a job. If I want to teach, LSU will keep me on.”

That would be great if Tracy actually knew what she wanted to do. She’d gone from interest in the business world to school administration and now teaching. She was graduating in December, and she was still going back and forth. Tracy’s indecisiveness was frustrating, especially since Tonya was footing the bill for her tuition.

While Tonya had achieved career and financial success, Tracy had the type of wealth she truly coveted: personal freedom. Tonya couldn’t even fathom what that must feel like, and there were times when she really wanted to. A surge of jealousy uncoiled in her chest, but she swallowed it down. She didn’t want to antagonize her younger sister or seem unsupportive. Tonya chose her words carefully. “That was nice of them. You’ve obviously made an impression. Did you tell Daddy yet?”

“I tried, but he didn’t answer the phone. And you know he doesn’t text, so I’ll catch him later. But…what I just told you? It’s a good thing, right?” Tracy didn’t sound so sure.

“It is if you want it to be.”

“That’s not really an answer.”

Tonya choked back a sigh. “Just think about it. Visualize yourself in that profession and weigh your pros and cons.”

Tracy sighed loud enough for both of them. “That’s a Dr. Preston answer. I want to hear from Tonya.”

“I’m me. I don’t know what you mean.” Tonya did knew exactly what she meant, but sometimes faux obliviousness was easier.

“Fine,” Tracy said in an exasperated huff. “I’m going to celebrate my ass off no matter what.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Tonya’s voice sounded wooden to her own ears. “As long as somebody’s having fun,” she mumbled under her breath.

“What did you just say?” Tracy asked.

“I said it sounds like a plan.”

“Noooo, the second thing.”

“Nothing, don’t worry about it.”

Tracy grumbled. “Fine. I’ll talk to you later.”

Tonya didn’t get the chance to say good-bye. She tossed her cell back into her purse, glanced at herself in the mirror, and sighed. “Okay, I know I shouldn’t have said that.”

As she walked out of the bathroom, trying to push the conversation to the back of her mind, there was a knock at her office door. She slid into her chair and put her purse where it belonged, finally able to focus. The shield of professionalism slid firmly into place as the tech brought her next patient in.

Chapter 2

Haley filled her mouth with Captain Crunch. She stared at the TV as she watched the final few cut scenes in Mass Effect 3. She stopped mid-chew and leaned forward. Her eyes, dry from staring at the screen for so long, widened nonetheless. Haley’s heart did a little flip in her chest.

Commander Jordan Shepard was dead. This was FemShep. Her FemShep. Renegade all the way, and the ultimate goddamned badass. She’d built her over the span of three games, forging unforgettable friendships with her crew. Then there was Liara, Shep’s partner and lover throughout. She’d stayed faithful despite other romance possibilities, and this was her reward?

“What? Noo!” Haley’s voice was shrill and loud enough to wake the neighbors even though the central wall separating the double shotgun house was several inches thick.

She tossed the controller onto the coffee table kind of violently, not giving a damn if the thing shattered into a million pieces—the controller, not the table. All these months of waiting and hiding from spoilers got her here? If she’d known it was going to end this way, Haley could have saved thirty-nine bucks. She stared in disbelief and disgust as the way-too-upbeat music continued to play and the credits rolled. What the actual hell? Without thinking about the time, Haley reached for her cell phone. It was almost dead, but it had just enough juice in it to get by.

Nate Danvers’s name was right at the top of her most recent call list. He picked up at the beginning of the fifth ring.

“You…okay? Ever…everythin’ okay?” he slurred.

“Hell, no. I just finished it.”

“Wha? Finished…wha?”

“The game!” Haley was getting a little impatient. She didn’t mean to snap at him, but given the circumstances… “Wake up.” Haley heard the rustle of covers and a murmured voice.

“Jesus Christ! I just looked at the time. What is wrong with you?”

At least he sounded more alert. “I just finished Mass Effect 3. She dies! I can’t fuckin’ believe it!”

“Did you…did you just drop an f-bomb over this?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Let me get this straight. It is 3:27 a.m. You’re not bleedin’, and no one is dead?” Nate was starting to sound a little teed off.

“Shep is.” Haley cleared her throat. Yeah, so maybe calling him hadn’t been such a good idea.

“A real person, Haley! This is what you did your whole day off?”

Well, when he said it like that, it sounded dysfunctional. “Yeah, so?”

Nate grumbled something, but it was muffled, as though he had turned away from the phone. “Jen wants to talk to you.”

Haley rolled her eyes. “No, tell her to go back to sleep.”

“Well, that’s kinda hard since you’re the one responsible for wakin’ us up.”

“I was upset.”

“Yeah, I gathered.” Jen’s tone was sarcastic. “You need to stop givin’ me the brush-off. Let me fix you up. There’s this one girl that would be right up—”

“No, you know I don’t do that relationship crap anymore.”

“But you do the video game crap?”

“Yes, no drama.”

“You don’t think callin’ us at 3:00 a.m. is drama? You need someone to help you join the real world, and who said anythin’ about a relationship? Just add her to your list of fuckbuddies. Maybe she’ll end up first in line.”

Haley groaned. “I can take care of that myself, thank you. Whenever I want it.”

“Whenever I want it,” Jen repeated teasingly. “So the toned biceps and baby blues make you the cure for vaginal dryness.”

Haley chuckled. “I didn’t say it. You did.”

“You’re so sweet, but this gamin’ thing? We need to find you another hobby.”

“Your husband was into them too, back at Ole Miss, remember? Before you changed him,” Haley emphasized gleefully. She smiled, waiting.

“You mean…when he became an adult?”

Haley could almost see the smirk on Jen’s face.

“Is that what it’s called?”

“Uh-huh, yes, adulting.” Jen yawned. “Anyway. You warmin’ up to your partner yet?”

Haley switched gears. “Meh, he’s an offensive asshole who talks to me like I’m five.”

“It’s three thirty. Are you really havin’ a whole conversation? This can’t wait until the sun actually comes up?”

Jen sighed. “Did you hear him?”

“Yasss.”

“You okay now? Or are you goin’ to sit there in your underwear and cry into your cereal?”

“How did you—” It was a stupid question, but it came out anyway. “Yes, to both those things.” The world was just better without pants.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Why are you still talkin’?” Nate asked.

Haley laughed.

“Lunch later?” Jen asked.

“Hell no, I’ll probably be asleep. Did you forget I’ve been up since yesterday? I’m startin’ the night shift tonight for the next month.”

“Mmm, fun.”

“Yeah, really.”

“Nate will call you later.”

“Okay, goodnight.”

“Uh-huh. If I can’t get back to sleep, I’m callin’ you.”

“I’ll probably be up for a while findin’ solace in fix-it fic. I’m sure there’s plenty.”

“Well, you do that then. Bye.” Jen hung up.

Haley’s phone beeped at her and she threw it on the couch. For the first time in hours, she noticed the stifling heat. The wifebeater she wore was damp, and her boi shorts were sticking in some uncomfortable places. She reached out with her foot and kicked at the box fan to angle it closer to her, but it was just recirculating hot air. The wall unit in the living room was barely spitting out anything at all. She really needed to call the landlord about that. The ceiling fans twirled fast and hard with the occasional squeak. Still, in here was a lot better than the bedroom, where the heat and humidity made her feel like somebody was breathing all over her.

She stood and opened a window, hoping for a semi-cool breeze. Instead, she was hit by a wave of warmth and the smell of recent rain, which made things even more unpleasant. Everyone suffered in New Orleans in July. Sweat gathered at the back of her neck. A cold shower would probably relax her enough to fall asleep, fix-it fic be damned, but she didn’t move from the window. She peered outside. Working streetlights were few and far between on St. Roch, which was smack-dab in the Seventh Ward, but that didn’t keep the few stragglers away.

Forget New York, for Haley, this was the city that never slept—a large chunk of it, anyway. She had been coming here since she was a child. It had been her second home, and now it was her primary one. New Orleans wasn’t the same city it was pre-Katrina. Crime rates were soaring, but Haley refused to let that hold her back. After seventeen weeks of training, she was now one of the officers in charge of protecting this city. The whole process would have been harder if Nate and Jen hadn’t been there to anchor her.

Was she going to save the world by becoming a police officer? Or at least New Orleans? Hell. No. Haley was a realist. She was no super cop, and after a month on the force, she knew she wasn’t even a super rookie. But it was the little things that were most important to her. In time, by dragging away the deadweight that kept this city down, she had the chance to give the community back to the people who deserved it most, to the families struggling for a decent existence. She wanted to help people, especially the community she’d fallen in love with so long ago.

Haley groaned. Thinking about work brought up her partner. Was he an ass for real or was he was just acting the part? Using her arm to wipe away the sweat about to dribble down her face, she decided on that cold shower after all. Haley stepped back from the window and closed it. There was no point letting in more stagnant air. She glanced over her shoulder. The game had switched to the main title screen. She scoffed at it and moved back toward the couch, then reached for the Xbox controller and turned the whole system off. Game time was over for now. Well, maybe. Haley picked up her phone and plugged it into the wall charger. Sure, it was late. She scrolled through her contacts and picked one anyway. Somebody would answer her call. Haley wouldn’t mind getting dirty again after her shower.

Chapter 3

Tonya turned up the volume on the radio as she started over the Causeway. For the next twenty-three miles, the waters of Lake Ponchartrain surrounded her on all sides. At first glance, it looked kind of scary with only two narrow bridges in the middle of an expansive lake. For Tonya, it was like being the only person on an island. Even though other cars were beside, behind, and in front of her, they were all strangers she couldn’t touch or speak to. Solitude turned to loneliness at times, but she was used to feeling that way, even around those who cared for her.

Several miles in front of her, a humidity-induced haze hung over the Northshore, the most convenient entrance into St. Tammany Parish. The outline of Mandeville was distinctive. It lacked the jutting, harsh landscape created by the high-rises that were prevalent in the Orleans Parish skyline. Farther on, past Mandeville into Covington, there were simply trees, the highway, and the occasional business, before she’d hit the more residential areas. Just the way she liked it.

It was quite the daily commute since it usually turned into an hour or more, but she enjoyed the peace the drive brought her. As her BMW 328i ate up the miles, she shed her professional persona, allowing for deeper personal introspection. Tonya wasn’t naïve enough to think she could mask “the doctor” completely, but she had definitely learned, through the years, to dial things back. She had a tendency to scare people if she didn’t. Tonya smiled. There was some part of her that enjoyed the look on peoples’ faces, whether it was in the black or white community, when she revealed that she was a shrink. She couldn’t believe there were people who still thought of her profession in a negative light.

The truth of the matter was, she didn’t go around analyzing, diagnosing, and dispensing advice. Well, she tried not to, since it was entirely too much work. The little voice in her head derided Tonya, reminding her that she didn’t have much of a life outside of the hospital anyway, so she might as well hone her skills and utilize her education around the clock. “Shut up.” Tonya slammed the door on those thoughts and turned the radio up even louder. She started to sing along, rather badly, to a Justin Timberlake tune, but the volume of the music automatically lowered as a call came through. Tonya answered it immediately.

“What are you doing?” Stephanie asked.

“Driving.”

“How far away are you?”

“At least ten minutes onto the Causeway. Why?”

“You should turn around and meet me for drinks. I’m bored, and do you really just want to go home? Don’t you need a break in the monotony? If I’m bored, hell, you have to be comatose. We can even go somewhere lesbian-friendly. Let’s do Good Friends. Old queens and show tunes? I’m in.”

The request was tempting for all of ten seconds. “It’s a work night. You know how I feel about that.” Tonya cringed, realizing she’d just fed into Stephanie’s argument.

“See. That’s what I mean. It doesn’t have to be the weekend for us to go out together. I’m a grown-ass woman. Nobody’s gonna tell on me. Nobody’s gonna tell on you either.”

Tonya switched lanes. Stephanie sounded truly irritated. There had to be more to this.

“None of your other friends were free.” Tonya’s tone was playful and a little accusatory.

Stephanie paused. Then she chuckled. “Shut up. I hate you.”

“Yes, you’ve completely changed my mind now. I’ll be there in thirty,” Tonya deadpanned.

For a few seconds, Stephanie didn’t say a word. “You’re not being serious, are you?”

“No!”

“Don’t yell at me. I was just checking. Can’t tell with you sometimes, especially over the phone.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

Stephanie laughed. “You’re dry like a fine wine?”

Tonya chuckled. “Good save.”

“I thought so. Tsk, sometimes I really don’t understand why we get along so well. I mean, we’re total opposites.”

“I would think it’s obvious by now,” Tonya said.

“What? You keep me from getting pissy drunk and phenomenally stupid, and I make you laugh?” Stephanie asked.

Tonya smiled. “That’s an interesting way to put it, but more or less, yes.”

“It’s good that you can let go a little sometimes, but that doesn’t keep me from worrying about you.”

Tonya resisted the sudden urge to make up an incoming call. She’d just gotten out of her own head. She had no intention of going back in, even for a friend. “Steph—”

“I know. Just bear with me. In our field, you and I both know that it’s good to have a sounding board. You’re definitely that for me. I know. I know you like to keep things professional at work, and trust me when I say I understand that. But we’ve known each other for almost a year, and sometimes I really do feel like I’m just that crazy bitch you have drinks with.”

For a moment, Tonya was speechless. Stephanie meant a lot to her. When Stephanie first started at the hospital, she’d instantly treated Tonya with respect as her boss, but she’d seen the person too. Tonya had gravitated toward that both on the job and off. “You’re more than that. You have to know that by now. Why are you questioning it?”

Stephanie sighed. “Look, I’m sorry for laying all this on you right now, but I guess it’s as good a time as any. Maybe I should have waited and said this face-to-face, but… You don’t ever feel like things are one-sided?”

“No. Why? Where is all this coming from?”

“It’s just that I come to you for just about everything, and you just,” Stephanie paused. “You don’t talk to me.”

“Yes, I do.” Tonya didn’t want to take this sudden heaviness across the water with her. Instead, she pulled over into one of the turnarounds.

“Well, you did tell me you were a lesbian, but I have the feeling that was easy information for you to offer. You’re settled into it, but as far as your love life goes—”

“I don’t have a love life.” Tonya sighed and closed her eyes. “It’s complicated.”

It really wasn’t, but at this moment in time, she was fine with that. Although, she did miss sex. There had been times when at least that part had ranged from pretty decent to good. For her, though, relationships had been few and far between, and it wasn’t just because most of the women she’d dated were lukewarm to begin with. In addition to the lack of sparks between them, they hadn’t cared to be her dirty little secret. Tonya let her father wear blinders, and because she hadaresponsibility to her family, she didn’t rock the boat. The Prestons were a small microcosm of don’t ask, don’t tell.

“Anyway, let’s not forget the way you talk at me about your sister and your daddy. You talk about them like you’re on the outside looking in or something. I don’t think I really started to notice until your mom died. Tonya, I didn’t even know she was sick.”

The subject of her mother was a sensitive one. It felt like yesterday instead of eight months ago. “That’s because there was a chance the experimental drugs were going to work. There was no point—”

“Jesus, sweetie. Do you hear yourself? Everything is so clinical. You can’t be the doctor—”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you felt this way.” Tonya cut her off, hoping the statement was personalized enough for her. Stephanie’s words were way too similar to her sister’s comment about Dr. Preston. Her whole body stiffened, and she sat ramrod-straight, despite the comfort of the leather seats behind her.

“I’m sorry too. I feel like I threw my emotions up all over you. I wasn’t trying to sound shitty or ungrateful for what we do have. I just want to make sure I’m doing right by you. This isn’t a movie. I don’t want to be the sassy, one-dimensional black friend.”

A warmth settled over Tonya, making her feel cozy and comfortable. A big part of her was grateful for Stephanie’s emoting. A smaller part of her wondered if she had it in her to give what Stephanie was asking for. At the end of the day, it was easy to listen and laugh, but it was a whole different category of things to give of herself. “I’ll try, and I’ll trust you to let me know how I’m doing?”

“Yeah, deal.” The smile came through in Stephanie’s voice.

“And one more thing,” Tonya said.

“Yeah?”

“You’re not black. Not even a little bit.” In fact, she was blond, perky, and looked like a cheerleader.

“True, but that’s such a minor thing,” Stephanie said airily.

“Is it?” Tonya laughed, relaxed, and put the car in Reverse. As she waited to get back into traffic, Tonya looked out at Lake Ponchartrain. The water, greenish-brown in hue, was barely moving at all. It was serene, relaxing.

“Yes, it is in the scheme of things. I’m letting you go, but Good Friends on Friday?”

Tonya didn’t hesitate. “Good Friends on Friday.”

“And maybe you’ll go with me again to torture myself at Oz? I love making it rain even if most of the guys are gay.”

“We’ll see.”

“Uh-huh. See you in the morning.”

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Tonya pulled her vehicle into her attached, two-car garage, which was one of the reasons she’d bought the house. The other was the wraparound porch. As she got out, a barrage of delectable smells hit her; her father was cooking. It was a passion of his, and now that he was home daily, he flexed his culinary muscles all the time. For a man in his mid sixties, he was very spry. The house was always clean, and the yard meticulous. It was his way of contributing and showing that he cared. Maybe it was even his way of atoning. He didn’t have to. Wasn’t it a child’s job to look after her parents as they aged? Though in Tonya’s case, her role had always been to take care of everyone, whether she wanted to or not.

Tonya opened the door that led directly to the kitchen and pasted a smile on her face. Her father looked up from the huge pot on the stove. Other than that, the kitchen was spotless like she’d known it would be. Dark granite countertops gleamed, as did all the stainless-steel appliances.

He smiled right back and lifted a spoon toward her with his hand underneath as a guard to keep it from spilling. “Hey, my baby. Here, taste this. I think it’s the best barbecue shrimp I’ve ever made.”

All that butter was going to require some additional time at the gym in the morning. Tonya moved forward, blew on the broth, and sipped. Her taste buds did a little dance. “Oh God.”

“See. Told you. I added a little extra butter, garlic, and some tarragon, along with the regular stuff.” Robert Preston’s brown eyes sparkled with pride, adding to already handsome features complemented by dimples and an always bright smile.

Her father refilled the spoon and brought it to his own lips. He spilled some down his chin onto his goatee and wiped it away with the back of his hand. “Just call me the black Emeril, baby girl.” He winked.

Tonya chuckled and patted him on the shoulder as she moved away, even though it felt awkward to do so.

“Fix me a cold drink.”

Without a word, she pulled a glass from the cabinet and got a can of Sprite from the refrigerator.

“I was gone do crawfish, but the shrimp at Rouses looked too nice to pass up.”

“A crawfish boil during the week?” Tonya asked.

“Talked to your sister. We’re celebrating her job offer. I got some nice wine, and the French bread is soft. She can be here in spirit.”

“Oh.”

The word hung in the air.

Robert turned and gazed at her as he reached for his drink. Tonya gave it to him.

“You don’t sound too excited. I thought you’d be proud of her.”

“I am. I spoke to her this morning.” Tonya swallowed down the hundred other things she could have said about Tracy and her chronic indecisiveness, knowing she had to pick her battles. Better yet, pretend like those battles weren’t even there. It was her family’s superpower, after all. She gave him a wide smile because that seemed to always work.

“Good. She wants to do right by you ’specially since it’s on your dime.” He grinned, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Tonya’s stomach roiled. She hated when he talked like that. It seemed passive aggressive. Yes, she’d paid her sister’s way through college. Yes, she was in the process of taking care of her mother’s leftover medical bills. Thank goodness for wise investments and her ability to save. She’d bought this house when she got her first real job. Shortly after that, her parents had lost everything. She took care of them when her father could not. It used to rankle her, but Tonya had come to grips with that reality a long time ago.

Tonya stood there staring at the back of his shiny, bald head. Sometimes his mere presence made her uncomfortable. She didn’t like feeling that way in her own home, but Tonya knew being tethered to her family could be a somewhat positive experience one minute and a negative one the next. Maybe some good stuff was right around the corner. If so, why did she suddenly wish she had turned around to have that drink with Stephanie?

* * *

Brenda closed the distance between them. “Don’t chu wanna know what it feels like?

Tonya couldn’t breathe. “What if somebody sees us?” She looked behind them cautiously, then glanced over her shoulder. There was nobody there, but still.

“They won’t,” Brenda promised.

They stood in the space between Brenda’s home and the neighbor’s, which was an odd place to be. But Brenda’s brother was a pain, and her backyard was too open. The narrow strip of dirt was just wide enough to fit them comfortably and close enough to offer some privacy, especially toward the middle. Tonya had always thought it was strange that the houses were so close together, but today, she didn’t question it. She was just thankful. Plus, it was a minor miracle that she’d been able to get out of the house.

Brenda pressed her against the siding; it was warm and smooth against Tonya’s shoulders. Tonya’s stomach knotted, and she felt hot all over. She closed her eyes. The first brush of Brenda’s lips was soft and tentative.

Tonya whimpered. She didn’t know what she had been expecting, but it wasn’t for her body to catch fire in a mess of teenage hormones.

Brenda ended the kiss. Tonya opened her eyes. Brenda looked surprised. “Boys…don’t feel like dis.”

Tonya nodded. She had nothing to compare their encounter to.

Brenda put some distance between them, and before Tonya knew what was happening, Brenda palmed her breast. She arched forward, and this time when their lips met, it was sloppy and wet.

“Ohhh, what y’all doin! I’m tellin’ Mama!”

They jumped apart. Tonya was breathing hard, and Brenda was as well. Before she could speak, Brenda ran toward the front of her house to her brother, who was laughing loudly.

This wasn’t funny.

She stood there, frozen. Time dragged. When Brenda finally came back, her chest was heaving, and tears were streaming down her face.

Tonya gasped as an icy bolt of fear plunged into her stomach.

“You have to go. He told Mama!”

It was then that Tonya saw the red handprint on the side of Brenda’s face. She reached out, but Brenda batted her hands away. “Go! I think she’s gonna call your daddy.”

Those words shredded her completely. Tonya sobbed. Each intake of breath hurt like nothing she’d ever experienced.

“I’ll see you on da bus in the morning.” Brenda kissed her again, hard and quick. Then she was gone.

Tonya wiped her face and slowly began to move toward the front of the house. She had no idea what was in store for her, but there was no getting around it. In the short walk home, she went from crying hysterically to grudging acceptance and back again. By the time she actually got there, her eyes were gritty and burning.

She opened the door. No one was in the living room. Tonya trudged forward slowly. When she got to the kitchen, her father’s back was to her. Her little sister peered at her over his shoulder.

“You take care of your own. I take care of mine!” he shouted.

Tonya jumped at the volume of his voice. She jumped again when he slammed the phone down.

He turned then. His expression was blank, save the anger in his eyes.

“Why don’t you go play in your room for Daddy, baby girl?” He sat Tracy on the floor, and off she ran without a word.

Tonya stared at him, but she still didn’t see the slap coming. Her face burned where his palm connected.

She cried out. “I’m sorry!”

Then there was a clap of leather, followed closely by stinging pain on her arms, back, and legs. Tonya covered her head and squatted to the floor as blow after blow rained down on her. She did her best to stay quiet, yet she couldn’t. She just couldn’t. In between her own cries, Tonya heard him yelling.

“Fuckin’ embarrassment!”

“I didn’t raise you to be like that!”

“Not in my goddamned house! Yah heard me? You not bringing that shit in my fuckin’ house!”

His words started to blend together, and pretty soon all she could hear was the thundering of her own heart.

Tonya reared up in her bed, gasping. She wiped sweat from her face, along with the tears. “God!” Tonya took deep, fortifying breaths and reminded herself that it was all in the past. She leaned toward the nightstand and grabbed her glasses. After turning on the lamp, she opened the top drawer and took out her journal. Unclipping the pen from the side, she scribbled the date on a page that was nearly full and simply wrote, “Brenda dream.” Tonya set the journal aside and scooted back against the headboard, breathing through the residual anger and fear and filling her head with mundane things until she was able to relax. Eventually, Tonya eased back down in bed and let sleep reclaim her.

Chapter 4

Haley buckled her seatbelt and peered out the window as her partner, Tim “Tang” Hudson, pulled out of the parking lot of the second district police station on Magazine Street. He was from Alabama and sounded like it. His accent was thicker than hers. Haley didn’t know what Tang stood for or how he got the nickname, and she didn’t want to know either. The guy was a whole lot of ass, plain and simple.

The area around Magazine was peppered with single and double shotgun homes, trendy coffee shops, bars, quirky bohemian clothing stores, art galleries, and restaurants that ranged from Jamaican to Asian fusion. A lot of the commercial buildings were packed together so tightly that there was no space between them, but the colorful exteriors and signs distinguished one from the other. Tourists wearing fanny packs, shorts, and big hats, mixed in with native New Orleanians, crossed against the red light as if it wasn’t there at all. The streets in the area were narrow but always busy.

So, just like everybody else, they waited for the crowd to go by. It was so hot that it felt like hell had spilled over, especially after the daily hard-ass rain. If the heat didn’t keep people away, the water puddled on the streets and sidewalks wasn’t going to either.

They came to another stoplight, and Haley felt Tim looking at her. She didn’t bother to acknowledge him because she was sure something stupid and redneck was going to come out of his mouth.

“How you likin’ the late shift? Gettin’ used to it?”

The radio murmured and spit in the background as other cops talked to dispatch and each other.

Haley grunted and shrugged. It was a little late to try to be friendly. She could have fought for a new partner, but she was starting to think—no, Haley knew—that she had drawn the short straw. Tim was clearly some newbie rite of passage. The guy had been on the force for six years with no promotion, and every time he opened his mouth, Haley could see why. Tim was her trial by fire, and she was going to walk through it even if it felt like she’d been doused in gasoline. Other cops smirked at her when she walked by, and then there was the container of Tang powder she’d found in her locker. Haley couldn’t believe that stuff was still being manufactured.

Tim sighed. A second later he leaned forward. “Look at all that ass. I’m so glad I’m a single man, ’cause I got jungle fever.” He snorted at his own joke. “Not that bein’ married stopped me before.”

She rolled her eyes. He was a man with strong features… something like a horse that had been kicked in the face by a mule. The pornstache did not help matters any.

“This must be like pusstopia to you, huh?” Tim turned the car to the left.

Haley groaned. He just said that out loud. He really did. Okay, yeah. She had the butch walk and the look. It was all a dead giveaway, and she wasn’t hiding. So was this a misguided attempt to be supportive? Or was he really that ignorant? Or he just didn’t give a damn. Maybe it was a combination of all three, which didn’t improve her opinion of him at all. But his statement did cause a lightbulb to go on in Haley’s head. She understood his nickname perfectly now, especially if poon was stuck in front of it.

“I don’t even know how to answer that.”

Tim looked at her as if she’d grown another head. “Well, it’s a yes or no question, but you can add some commentary if you want.”

“I don’t.”

“You don’t what?”

“Want.” Haley was emphatic. She had to draw the line some-damn-where.

He shook his head and sniffed. “Fine. I was just tryin’ to have a conversation.”

“Let’s just stick to the Saints and the weather.”

“No need to be shitty.”

“I wasn’t bein’ shitty.” Haley watched the streetcars go by as they stopped at St. Charles and Felicity.

“What you call it then?”

“Keepin’ to myself.”

“You don’t like me, do you?” Tim asked.

There was no point in lying. Haley looked him right in the face. “Nope.”

He snorted again. “I don’t much care for you either. Long as you don’t let me get shot in the back, I don’t give a good goddamn.”

“Then we understand each other.”

“Guess so,” Tim said.

He continued to take them up Felicity Street. It was “neat” how the neighborhoods changed from beautifully restored single and double shotguns to ones that looked like they needed about ten coats of paint and a whole lot of love. At least there were no potholes on this street. No epic ones anyway, where tires and car suspensions meet their doom.

She gave him five minutes. He was not the silent type. They neared South Claiborne, and Tim turned into the extremely small parking lot at the Church’s Chicken on the corner. The line was out the door.

“You can get a two-piece dark and a biscuit for 2.99,” Tim said, as if she needed or wanted an explanation.

This was just another reason to dislike him. Haley was Popeyes all the way. She’d actually found a fried chicken recipe that came damn close to their greasy goodness. She shook her head as he bypassed the line completely and went in. Most of the customers on the outside pointed and stared at her as if she had something to do with his craziness.

Haley pulled out her phone and clicked on Nate’s name.

Pusstopia: use it in a sentence n front of Jen. I dare u.

It didn’t take long for him to reply. He sent an emoji, the one crying with laughter.

That’s not right, but still I just went for a visit last nite. Hold on.

Haley waited.

Her phone vibrated.

She says ur a horrible influence and we shouldn’t b allowed to play 2gether.

Haley smiled.

She can’t keep us apart.

Damn rite!!! How’s work?

Shite. Started my shift with pusstopia, can’t wait 2 c how it ends.

LOLz

We bonded I think tho over our mutual dislike for each other, so there’s that.

Well thats something.

Haley looked up. Tim was sucking on a drink and walking toward the car.

Maybe it was something.

He’s coming gotta go. I should b professional even tho he’s not.

K dealing with the dinner rush neway. Later.

Later.

The smell of chicken wafted in as Tim opened the driver’s side door. He sat down and glanced at her. “Hope you didn’t want anythin’.”

“I’m good.”

Tim put his box of chicken between them. “Saints are gonna suck this year with Payton suspended for the season.”

That was two things they agreed on. She hoped this wasn’t going to be a pattern. “Probably.”

* * *

Haley was wired even though she should have been tired. The night had been long and tedious and she still had about an hour left to go. They had answered noise complaints that ranged from loud music to real domestic disturbances in the Uptown area; dispersed a few groups of natives who were having too good a time at one o’clock in the morning near Tulane University; and investigated a couple of claims of breaking and entering in Hollygrove that turned out to be false. During it all, Tim had been a real peach. Haley knew what kind of police officer she wanted to be—the kind that exerted quiet authority unless she had to get loud. Tim was the exact opposite. He was always turned up to the highest level. There were times when she’d wanted to pull him aside, but instead she’d just glared at him while he did his best to scare all the body fluids out of whomever they encountered. To civilians, it probably looked like some weird version of good cop/bad cop.

Now it was past 5:00 a.m, and the city, the part that slept last night, was waking up. The sky was lightening little by little. They drove up Oretha Castle Haley Boulevard, then turned onto St. Andrew for the fourth time in the past couple hours. She perked up; there hadn’t been any suspicious activity the last three times they’d been in the area. Something was up. She watched and waited. There were a few stragglers walking around and even a couple people sitting on their porches.

The police cruiser stopped abruptly, making Haley jerk forward violently. “What the he—”

Before she could finish her sentence, Tim was out of the car and running toward a young man. Haley had no idea what was going on, so she went with her instincts: secure the cruiser and give chase. She tried to radio Tim, but there was no response. Moving at top speed, she flew by the onlookers and took a sharp left through the backyard of the house on the corner in hopes of getting a better view. What she saw brought her to a complete stop. The suspect—or whoever he was—was brushing himself off, and Tim stood beside him. He didn’t have his weapon drawn and his cuffs were still on his belt. In fact, the two of them looked to be talking, but she couldn’t be sure. Their faces were all screwed up in aggravation.

When he saw her, Tim waved, and Haley jogged closer.

Tim sniffed. “I was just apologizin’. He looked like somebody I was supposed to pick up last month on a warrant.”

Apologizing? That did not sound right coming out of Tim’s mouth at all. Talk about suspension of disbelief.

The man’s eyes moved from Tim to her and back again. “Fuckin’ cops. Better be glad I ain’t suing yo’ ass. Yah heard me?”

“Sorry for the confusion, sir,” Haley said to try to smooth things over.

The man glared, brushed himself off, and walked away.

“What kind of shit was that?” Haley asked when they were alone.

Tim shrugged. “Didn’t you hear what I said?

“Yeah, but you couldn’t have clued me in?” She’d heard him, but it had to be bullshit. Haley didn’t trust this guy at all.

“No time. I knew you’d catch up. Don’t get your boxers all stuck up your ass. It’s not a big deal.”

Haley wondered if she could get away with tazing him a few times. He probably wouldn’t remember. “Whatever, and you’re doin’ the paperwork for this,” she told him as they got back to the car.

“Did you see me write anythin’ down? I didn’t even catch that kid’s name. Far as I’m concerned, that shit didn’t happen.”

Haley shook her head and got in the cruiser. She just couldn’t wait to see what fun the next night would bring.

Chapter 5

Tonya pulled her BMW into the gas station beside pump ten. It was early yet, barely seven. Traffic was still light and there weren’t any other cars in the lot except a blue Toyota truck parked in front of the convenience store and a battered sedan near the dumpsters. This wasn’t her usual place; the Shell station had been blocked by a refueling truck, but it worked in a pinch. Tonya could have waited until after work like she usually did, but it was Thursday. Tonight was her therapy appointment, and her work schedule was unpredictable, especially this time of year. She didn’t want to be late if she could help it.

Tonya had a love/hate relationship with therapy, even though it had been helpful. She had been able to figure out that her family couldn’t, or didn’t know how to, express or discuss deeper emotions. Neither could she, but she had taken crucial steps forward on that front. Tonya now considered herself a work in progress. The sessions with Dr. Finn had also given her an outlet to deal with the grief, rage, relief, and acceptance of her mother’s death, separate from her father and sister so that she could continue to be their rock. There were times when that role was exhausting, times when she desperately wanted to be someone else and enjoy a moment of freedom.

These were such odd thoughts to be having, but it was happening more and more as of late. “Get it together.” Tonya opened her purse, fished out her bank card, and popped the gas cap before getting out of the car. The heat was oppressive and the humidity even more so. Within seconds, she was sweating. Tonya swiped her card quickly and started the pump, then got back in the car to enjoy the air conditioning. Minutes later, the nozzle clicked, and she got out to return the hose to the pump.

“Damn, ma, you fine as hell. I like my bitches redbone,” a man said as he and his friend walked toward her.

Tonya whirled around, nearly spilling gas all over herself and the hot pavement. The sudden jolt of fear sent her heart into her throat and then back down to her stomach. It was broad daylight, but this was New Orleans.

“For real doe,” his friend chimed in.

Tonya didn’t trust her ability to speak as the rest of her went on alert. Her muscles stiffened to the point of pain. Her heart thudded as if it were trying to escape from her chest, and her stomach cinched into hard knots. These men were sharks, and they would be able to smell her fear.

“What? Y’all too stuck-up to speak?”

One of the men took a step forward.

His friend eyed the BMW and said, “Hell yeah she stuck the fuck up. Look at dat car.” He caressed the hood. “Yo man get dat fo’ you? I bet you doin’ all kinds of nasty shit to him to pay him back.”

The other guy laughed hysterically.

Tonya scanned the area, trying not to be obvious. There was a woman and her child moving slowly toward the bus stop and a few homeless people gathered on the neutral ground that separated the lanes going up and down South Claiborne. They all looked a little too fragile for a rescue or interference. A few cars passed but didn’t even slow.

Both men moved closer. One reached out and twirled a strand of Tonya’s hair around his finger. She couldn’t breathe, and her mind went blank.

He pulled the strand taut. “Is dis even real, ma?”

Both men laughed this time. In her terror, they were starting to morph together. Tonya couldn’t distinguish one voice from the other, and black and white turned to muddled gray. It seemed as if they’d been out here for hours, although in reality, it had only been a couple of minutes. Tonya was still frozen with fear, but as he yanked harder, she thawed. She knocked his hand away and stepped back. Self-preservation kicked into overdrive. She wasn’t going to be a damned victim. She didn’t want her face splashed on the news as another example of the rise in violent crime. Not if she could help it.

“Ohhh there we go. I knew there was some fire under dat hot ass.”

“I wanna see what she did to earn dat car. Just put her in da back. We need to get outta here anyways.” He lifted his shirt to reveal the butt of what looked to be a gun.

Tonya’s entire existence narrowed to this moment. Her life didn’t flash in front of her eyes, but she was suddenly acutely aware of everything she hadn’t yet done; everything she wouldn’t get to be. She didn’t want to die. Tonya took another step away and bumped into the pump behind her. That was when she felt the weight in her hand.

She still had the nozzle.

Tonya had a choice. She could give in and hope somehow she’d come out on the other side with enough pieces to put back together, if they allowed it. Or she could fight and hope that she’d come out on top.

In the span of a breath, Tonya made her decision. She categorically refused to be a victim. Tonya tapped into her anger, used her fear, and compressed the handle. Gas spewed out, and she flung the handle at them. It hit one man in the face.

“Fuckin’ bitch!”

“Hey! NOPD! What’s goin’ on here?”

The voice was commanding and deep, and those words were beautiful enough to bring Tonya to tears. She turned around to see a young white woman in plain clothes, holding a badge in one hand and a gun in the other.

“Shit!” The man with the gun started to run. As he moved, he yanked the weapon out of his pants and fired a couple shots at the store. His friend was a few steps in front of him.

“Get down!” the officer screamed.

Tonya hit the pavement but kept her eyes on the cop in front of her.

Instead of giving chase, the cop scanned the area as she unlocked the blue truck. She took out a cell phone and immediately began dialing. “This is Officer Haley Jordan. Badge number 1264, reporting a 34S in progress and an attempted 67A. The two suspects, both male, one black and one white, on foot heading south on MLK. Should I pursue?” She paused, listening to someone on the other end. “I’m with the vic at the DP on the corner of South Claiborne and MLK.” Haley paused again, then said, “Will do.” The officer shoved her phone in the pocket of her cargo pants. She then put the gun back in her ankle holster and stood.

Tonya watched in silence, concentrating on the woman’s bright yellow T-shirt. She needed something to anchor her. The sudden sound of sirens was musical.

“Miss? You can get up. There was a cruiser in the area. They’re in pursuit and more backup is comin’.” Haley walked toward her and reached out a hand.

Tonya took it, but let go a second later and stood on her own.

“Are you okay?”

Tonya tried to smile, but it wasn’t convincing.

“You wanna go try to get cleaned up?” Haley asked. Her voice was soft now, almost soothing.

Tonya peered down at herself. Her tan slacks and white shirt were covered in grime. Only then did she start trembling.

Haley reached out. “I’m gonna put my hand on your elbow, okay?”

Tonya nodded, but she still flinched. She let Haley lead her inside. Glass crunched under her feet. The bullets had shattered the door.

“I know this was a horrible experience, but you got through it.”

Tonya focused on the only point of warmth seeping into her body: Officer Haley Jordan’s touch.

“Is there anybody you need to call?”

Tonya sobbed as the weight of what had just occurred fell on her shoulders. It crushed her, leaving her closer to the ground than she’d been in a long time. She felt weak, drained. The logical part of her brain—the Dr. Preston part—whispered that this was all a normal response. For the moment, though, she felt disconnected from herself.

“Really, it’s okay…” Haley’s voice trailed off. “I refuse to call you ma’am, and you’re gonna get tired of me sayin’ miss.”

Tonya looked at Haley then, and that warmth she was feeling began to spread as Haley’s smile extended all the way to her blue eyes. “Tonya.”

“Okay, Tonya. It’s normal to feel emotional and outta sorts after a situation like this.”

“I know,” Tonya whispered.

They came to a stop.

“I’ll be right outside if you need me.” Haley opened the bathroom door and waited for Tonya to enter.

Tonya locked the door behind her. She turned and stared at herself in the mirror. In colloquial terms, she was a hot mess. Her eyes looked haunted, for lack of a better word, and her face was flushed, colored by the adrenaline still making its way through her body. No amount of lukewarm water and cheap soap was going to fix all of that. To compensate, she washed greasy residue off her hands.

She had been a step away from death, or at least serious harm. Tonya exhaled shakily. But she was alive, standing, and there wasn’t a mark on her. She wasn’t going to cry anymore, and she wasn’t going to fall apart. Not here. Not now. There was no reason to feel sorry for herself. Part