“What?” Tess stepped forward gingerly and grabbed two of the studs. “It’s not going to fall, is it?”
“It’s not the wall,” Quinn said. “It’s Rosie. I was supposed to pick her up from school five minutes ago.”
“Doesn’t she take the bus?”
“Long story. Damn,” he said as he shifted his grip and then lifted a shoulder to blot a streak of sweat from the side of his face. “It’ll be at least fifteen minutes before we get this thing secured and braced.”
“I’ll go get her,” Tess said.
The look Quinn shot at her made her wonder if she appeared as dismayed by her offer as she felt. “I can’t let you,” he said.
“I can handle it, just this once.” She backed away and brushed her hands over her dress. “I’m a big girl, Quinn.”
“Yeah. I noticed.”
She gave him a sly smile. “You’re going to owe me, big-time.”
“Not the R-factor.” He grimaced as the wall shifted. “Anything but that.”
“Anything?”
“Damn.” Another bead of sweat snaked down Quinn’s temple as Phil worked to set a brace. “I’m not in the best position to bargain, am I?”
“No.” She stepped in close to torture him with a preview of the debt he’d owe and blew in his ear. “But I can only think of one other position I’d rather see you in.”
“God.” He squeezed his eyes shut and then opened one to leer at her. “Only one?”
“Well…”
“Tess,” he said. “Rosie. Please.”
“All right.” She straightened and gave her head a shake to jostle the bangs from her eyes. “Don’t worry, Quinn. I’ll bring her back. Scout’s honor.”
She clambered down the stairs, moving quickly to her car. Above her, Quinn bellowed for Phil to hurry the hell up. He yelled a few other things, too, when Tess turned to wave and blew him a farewell kiss.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
TESS FLINCHED at the shrill whistle of a sash-wearing traffic director and swerved to follow a series of fat white arrows painted on the Adams Elementary School parking lot pavement. Several yards ahead of her, a row of silver and pastel SUVs and minivans inched along one by one into a wide parking area like a herd of placid cows plodding into a milking barn.
To her right-and much closer to the school buildings-beneath a spreading, leafy maple, several empty parking spaces angled toward a curb marked green for visitors and loading. And there sat Rosie Quinn, leaning against the tree’s trunk, cross-legged and frown-faced.
Ignoring the frantic waves of a busty, tanned blonde wearing one of the hideous sashes, Tess cranked her steering wheel to glide into one of the handy shady spots and switched off her ignition. Blondie approached her car and halted near the front fender, arms akimbo, glaring at Tess through the windshield.
“What?” Tess muttered. “Does my car clash with the family-themed decor?”
She climbed out and nodded at Blondie with an aggressively pert smile. “How’s it going?”
“Can I help you?”
Tess gave Blondie’s sleeveless striped tank, tight white shorts, bony knees and questionable flip-flops a slow once-over. “I doubt it.”
“Visitors have to check in at the office,” Blondie said.
“I’m not visiting.”
“Are you here to pick someone up?”
“Yeah.” Tess pointed at Rosie, who’d stood and lifted her backpack when Tess had exited her car. “Her.”
“Then you’ll have to move your car to the pick-up area,” Blondie said.
“That won’t be necessary.” Tess crooked a come-here finger at Rosie, who continued to stand and stare at her. Damn that family trait. “I’ll be gone in a minute.”
Blondie crossed her arms and thrust her D-cups in Tess’s direction. “Do you have permission to take this child from the premises?”
“Yeah. I do.”
Rosie slid her pack from her shoulder and let it drop to the ground beside the car. “Why isn’t my dad here?”
“He got held up,” Tess said.
“Why did he send you?” Rosie’s frown was hostile and suspicious.
“Because I said I’d come and get you.”
Two taller girls had wandered toward the base of the tree, watching the scene. “Who’s she?” the one wearing braces asked.
“Nobody,” said Rosie.
“You can’t take this child off campus unless you’ve signed in at the office,” Blondie said.
Tess shifted to face the woman with the bad-sash attitude. “Listen. I don’t know who you are. I don’t even know who you think you are. But I know who this kid’s dad is, and he asked me to come and pick her up. So that’s what I’m doing. Picking her up.”
“I’m not going,” Rosie said.
Tess stalked to the passenger side and opened the door. “Get in the car.”
Another Stepford traffic cop had joined Blondie. “What’s going on here?”
“Stay here,” Blondie said. “I’m going to report this to the office.”
Rosie gave Tess a sharklike smile of her own.
“Big mistake.” Tess picked up Rosie’s pack and slung it onto the passenger seat. “You don’t want to play this kind of game with me, kid.”
“Are you threatening that child?” Stepford asked. A small crowd of kids had gathered around Rosie. Two women stood nearby, arms crossed, heads tilted toward each other, whispering while they watched.
“No,” Tess said. “I’m taking her to her father. He’s the threatening adult in this situation.”
“That’s what you think.” Blondie pulled a cell phone from her pocket. “I’m calling for backup.”
“Bimbo wimp,” Tess muttered.
“I heard that,” Stepford said. “That was extremely rude. What kind of an example is that to set for these children?”
The children in question grinned at Tess. A plump boy in camo and navy gave a thumbs-up.
“How the hell should I know?” Tess asked. “These aren’t my kids.”
A beefy man in a gray janitor’s shirt hiked down the walk and stopped behind Blondie. “What’s going on here?”
Stepford pointed at Tess. “This woman is creating a disturbance.”
“The only thing disturbing around here,” Tess said, “are those sashes. Butt-ugly, if you ask me.”
A few snickers and some high fives from the peanut gallery put a hint of a smile on Rosie’s face.
“No one’s asking you anything,” Blondie said, sounding a little shaky. “Except to cooperate.”
“Same goes.” Tess shot Rosie a narrow-eyed look and jerked her head toward her car. “Get in.”
“Is she here to pick you up?” one of the tall girls asked Rosie.
“Yeah.” Rosie appeared slightly less antagonistic, but she still hadn’t budged from her spot.
“Cool car,” one of the boys said. “How fast does it go?”
“I got it up to one-ten once near Vegas,” Tess replied. “But I have a fear of death caused by skidding out of control, flipping airborne, plowing into the pavement and having the skin peeled from my body by asphalt. I’m sure someone else could do better.”
“Awesome,” another boy said.
“Do something,” Stepford told the man in the gray shirt.
He stepped from behind Blondie. “I’m going to have to ask you to come with me, ma’am.”
“Bet you hate having to do it, too.” Tess pulled her keys from her jacket pocket and locked her car doors. “Bet a big, strong man like you is all embarrassed about getting sucked into these ladies’ scheme for domination of the parking-lot empire.”
He coughed into his hand in a belated effort to disguise his grin and then jerked his head in the direction of the school building. “Are you coming quietly, or do I have to tie your hands behind your back with a plastic garbage fastener?”
“All right,” said one of the boys beneath the tree. “Tie her up.”
“No need,” Tess said. “I’ll come quietly. Rosie?”
Quinn’s daughter rolled her eyes but moved to stand beside Tess. “I’d better come, too. Dad wouldn’t want me to sit out here, unsupervised, all afternoon on account of you got sent to the principal’s office.”
AN HOUR LATER, Tess held the passenger-side door of her roadster open for Rosie. “Get in, kid.”
“Jeez,” Rosie said as she slid into the seat. “You’re such a-”
Tess slammed the door shut so she wouldn’t have to listen to the rest of the rant and stalked to the driver’s side. The afternoon had been a huge success, as far as she was concerned. She’d touched off a small but vocal rebellion in the office against the traffic brigade. She’d scored a fawning shoe compliment from the school secretary-a woman with fabulous taste, even if she hadn’t used it for her personal enhancement. And she’d escaped from the principal’s office without suspension.
“I could have kicked her liposuctioned ass,” Tess said after the first silent mile.
The kid pressed her lips together and stared out the window. “Whose ass?” she asked a couple of blocks later.
“Blondie’s.”
“That’s Mrs. Stanton.” Rosie looked worried. “She’s Missy Stanton’s mom.”
“Poor Missy.”
