“Anybody on the staff hurt?” I asked.
“Teresa Watkins is gonna have a bruise on her right cheek for a couple of days, some of the teachers who helped out got scratched up a bit, but nothing bad. How’s your head?”
“I reached up and touched the back of my head, where a very sexy paramedic had applied a bandage an hour or so earlier.
“Like new,” I said. “Any idea what started all this?”
“There was trouble in the neighborhood over the weekend. Gang stuff. Probably related to that. City cops had some extra cars in the area today.”
“Explains the quick response,” I said. “Where was Harold, by the way?”
“Our esteemed principal’s in Harrisburg for a three-day seminar on, uh, leadership in public schools.”
“You said that with a straight face, Aug. I’m impressed.”
“Had a lot of practice. Anyway, we’ll have increased security tomorrow, inside and out. Half the kids’ll stay home and we won’t need the security. Couple days from now, when all the kids come back and we could use some extra help, it won’t be here.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Same as always.”
“You talk to Larretta?”
“Yeah, I left the meeting for a few minutes to call the hospital. She was there. I told her that you came in to see Anthony. She said she’d be at the hospital all evening, case you wanted to stop by. They’re keeping Anthony overnight for observation.”
“I got a dinner date,” I said, “but maybe I’ll go over there later.”
I got up to go.
“Looked to me like Anthony was targeted today,” I said.
“Yep, me, too.”
“Any idea why?”
“Not a clue, JB. Why don’t you ask him tonight?
“Think he’ll tell me?”
“Asking is one thing. Getting an answer is another.”
Chapter 11
Timmy’s is a small family-owned place about two miles from the school where Angie and Laura teach. The neighborhood around the restaurant is getting kind of run-down. There’s a good bit of unemployment, and a lot of the middle-class families have moved out to the nearby ‘burbs. Right now, it’s a toss-up as to whether the area’s tree-lined streets and old Victorian homes will be a sufficient draw to attract the yuppies who have helped rejuvenate several other sections of the city. Meanwhile, Timmy’s continues to do good business because of a mix of great food, reasonable prices and a very loyal clientele. I’d eaten there enough times over the years that most of the regular staff knew me, if not by name, then at least by sight, and when I walked in at a little before four o’clock, Dolores, the family matriarch, smiled at me and said to sit wherever I wanted. The restaurant is basically just one large room with about fifteen tables. No tablecloths, just paper napkins at a dispenser on each table, small vase of real flowers on one side of the dispenser, salt and pepper shakers on the other. The florist shop next door gives Timmy’s a discount on the flowers, and Dolores thinks they lend a little class to the joint. She’s right. So does she.
Only two tables were occupied at that hour of the day, both near the entrance, so I walked back to a corner table and sat down to wait for Laura. I was still wearing most of the outfit I’d begun the day with, except for the shirt and tie. I hadn’t had time to go home and change, so Augie gave me a gray Franklin High T-shirt to wear to dinner. It was a size XL and the length was fine, but the chest and shoulders pinched a bit. No problem. Showed off my pecs.
Just a couple of minutes later, the door opened and Laura walked in. She said hello to Dolores, pointed in my direction and began walking towards me. Laura has two wardrobes, school and non-school. She looks great in both. Today she was wearing lightweight brown slacks with a matching blazer over a cream-colored blouse open at the neck to allow a glimpse of the tiny gold necklace she often wore. She had on dark brown flats and still managed a sexier walk than most women do in high heels. She wore her hair back today, held in place by a large barrette. In the six or so months that I’d known her, I’d never once seen Laura without feeling a little twinge of something, excitement maybe, somewhere deep inside me, and today was no exception. I stood up as she approached the table, partly because I was brought up right and partly because Laura Fleming is worth standing up for. When she was close enough to get a better look at both me and my clothes, not to mention the bandage on my head, her face registered confusion, then concern.
“Jeremy, what happened? Are you okay?”
“Sit down, babe,” I said. “I’m fine. I was over at Franklin today.”
“The riot. We heard about it, but I had no idea you were involved.” By this time, she was sitting next to me, and she reached up and touched my cheek.
“Are you sure you’re all right? There’s blood on your pants, you have a bandage on your head, and I doubt that you intended to show up for dinner in that T-shirt.”
“You don’t think it shows off my pecs?”
“The hell with your pecs, Jeremy. I’m worried about you.”
As she spoke, I suddenly realized that she was close to tears. I reached up and took her hand in mine.
“Hey,” I said gently, “I’m okay. It looks worse than it is, really.”
She took a breath and said, “Okay. Tell me about it.”
And I did, with the only interruption being when Gwen came over to take our orders. When I’d finished, Laura leaned back in her chair and looked at me.
“What?” I said.
“I don’t know, exactly,” she said. “I guess I was just taken by surprise, walking in and seeing you like this. I don’t like seeing anyone hurt, and I especially don’t like people I care about being hurt.”
And then those eyes
