“She can spend the night at my place,” Buck offered pathetically.
“Well, I guess there’s not really another option now, is there,” his father said, rising from the desk and closing a briefcase as ugly as Buck’s but much more worn. “Be sure to connect with this Ms. Castle first thing tomorrow so this girl can get down to L.A. Miss Dearbourne,” he said looking at the miserable young girl as he crossed his office, “I am sorry for your loss. Things will get straightened out in no time.”
“I don’t want to go to L.A.!” Tiffany called out, her eyes filling with tears.
“Well, I’m afraid there’s not much choice. We have to follow your mother’s wishes here,” his father said as he squeezed past Buck with a glare and stepped into the office’s small reception area.
Before either Buck or Tiffany could say another word, his father was out the door and the two of them were alone in the office. The room was so still they could hear the quiet buzzing of the old copy machine that their secretary, Doris, had forgotten to turn off—again. The silence was only broken by occasional sniffles from Tiffany while Buck stared down his chest, unsure of what to do next.
Seeing the gravy spots on his belly, he looked up. “Have you had your dinner yet?” he asked kindly.
Although upon first appearance, Buck looked more like a fighter than a lover, he had a truly kind heart, which easily shone through his rough exterior as soon as he opened his mouth—as long as he wasn’t with a client. Tiffany, not looking up, shook her head no.
“Well, come on, let’s go get something for you to eat.”
4
A few hours earlier, fifteen-year-old Tiffany Dearbourne had been pedaling her old purple bicycle as fast as it would go toward home. She’d been at her friend Laci’s house and hadn’t realized the time…her mother would be home any minute. Normally it wasn’t a big deal for Tiffany to get home after her mom, but right now she was grounded and shouldn’t have been out at all. After spending most of the weekend cooped up inside the stuffy house, Tiffany decided that if her mother couldn’t bother to stay in town and uphold the punishment that she didn’t need to obey it.
It really was a stupid punishment anyway. Tiffany had returned home twenty-seven minutes past curfew the weekend before. Her mother, Charla, had gone down the warpath and had grounded Tiffany for the next three weeks. Obviously an overzealous punishment, but since her mother had gotten pregnant her senior year of high school, she was convinced Tiffany’s fate would be the same.
The ridiculous thing was that while Tiffany had been with a boy—her boyfriend of four months, Red Richley—she was not going to make the same mistakes her mother had. Instead, she was determined to follow in the footsteps of her Aunt Lizzie and get the hell out of Victory. Lizzie wasn’t actually Tiffany’s aunt, but rather her mother’s best friend in the whole world. Tiffany hadn’t seen Lizzie since she was a little baby because Lizzie had hit the road and attended college in Los Angeles, where she was now a successful career woman.
Sure, Tiffany had been at the lake (dried-up lake bed) with Red in his father’s green Chevy, but she never had and never would let him move below her waistband. Unfortunately, Charla didn’t believe Tiffany’s pleas of innocence. Tiffany didn’t let the punishment get her too far down, though. She just kept counting the days until her high school graduation, when she could make her own exit from Victory. Until Sunday afternoon, that is, when the boredom had gotten to her and she’d ridden her bike the three and a half blocks to Laci’s house.
The girls had just watched MTV and drunk Cokes—in actuality, all things Tiffany could have done from her own house. It was just more fun to do them with Laci. As her legs shook from the power required to move the old bike at the speed Tiffany needed to get home, hopefully unscathed, she seriously doubted how worth it the afternoon with Laci had been.
As she rounded the final corner and was only a few houses from her own, Tiffany sighed with relief that her stepfather’s pickup wasn’t in the driveway. The relief lasted only a few seconds before she realized that a black-and-white police car was there instead. She was done for now…her own mother had called the police because she’d broken a punishment that was stupid to begin with?!?
With each pump of her legs on the rickety old pedals, Tiffany prayed that the cops were there for some other purpose and that she would get away with her outing. As she curved into the driveway, one of them called out to her.
“You Charla Tatham’s kid?”
He was a stereotypical Victory cop, bursting out of his uniform because of too many hours spent eating Dunkin’ Donuts and not enough chasing criminals. In fairness, there weren’t a whole lot of criminals to chase in their town. He looked older, probably close to retirement, with graying hair and wrinkled eyes. He mopped at his sweaty brow with a dingy handkerchief. The other cop looked like he was probably a rookie. His uniform was starched to perfection and he kept looking to the other for approval.
“Uh, yes, sir,” Tiffany replied, in her best ass-kissing voice, which was quite shaky at the moment. In her head she was saying, “Oh crap.”
The older officer looked at his partner and nodded, then back at Tiffany, who was leaning the rusted bike against the side of the house.
“We’ve got to talk to you. Can we go inside?” the young officer asked.
Tiffany’s fear had morphed into outrage that her mother would treat her like this. She felt so stupid and childlike…and the fact that the policemen were being so nice to her only reinforced her belief that they felt sorry for her that her mother was such a lunatic as to call the police over because her grounded teenage daughter had ventured out from under their roof.
“Sure,” Tiffany replied, red-faced from both the heart-pumping ride home and embarrassment.
Tiffany untied her key from the drawstring waist of the pajama pants she hadn’t bothered to change out of to go to Laci’s and stuck it in the front door. She quickly opened it and walked in, followed by the officers.
“Look, I know what this is,” Tiffany said, staring at them defiantly.
Again the officers looked at each other. The fat one pulled uncomfortably at his shirt collar—the house was stuffy.
“This is about your mother,” the young officer said.
“Just let me have it,” Tiffany said, deciding to roll over and take what she had coming…she had broken her punishment, even if it had been stupid to begin with.
“We’re sorry to have to tell you that your mother and stepfather were involved in an automobile accident this afternoon. They were both killed.”
The words hit Tiffany so hard she actually had to look down to be certain that the officer hadn’t drawn his weapon and shot her in the stomach. How could this be true? Thirty seconds earlier, she had been cursing her mother’s insanity, hoping that the police were at her house for some other reason than to bust her, and now all she wanted was to hear Charla screaming at her for sneaking out.
“I snuck out—I’m grounded,” she said to the officers. She’d meant to speak it, but it came out in a whisper that made her throat ache as her eyes filled with tears.
“That’s all right, dear,” the fat officer said and came toward her with his arm out.
She knew this was a kind gesture, but his fat white arm, shiny with sweat, and the smell of his body odor made her turn away. He didn’t seem to take it as a personal offense, and simply patted her back instead.
“We’re going to need to take you with us,” the young officer informed her. This was the first time he’d had to deliver bad news in the line of