Hometown Hero Page 2

  * * *

  “MR. Montgomery?” Allison’s voice stopped Cal on his way out the door. “Zara Hale is on line three for you.”

  It was tempting to keep walking. He’d called the little brat three times and she’d ignored him until he’d gone ahead and talked to her boss? Now she wanted to talk to him, but maybe he was too busy to talk this time.

  Yeah, tempting, but not appropriate. He was the responsible one, after all. “I’ll catch up,” he told the people he’d been walking with. They were on their way to The Pier for lunch, so it wasn’t like he was going to be missing a meeting or anything. “Order for me—whatever the special is.”

  That taken care of, he turned back toward his office. “Line three?”

  Allison nodded from her desk outside his door. He hadn’t liked the setup originally; Allison had been with the company since he’d been a toddler, and he was pretty sure she’d been assigned as his assistant largely to keep an eye on him. Having her stationed by his door made it feel even more like she was his sentry. His jailer. But he’d gotten used to her, just like he’d adjusted to the rest of it. And having her so intent on running his business life was actually a good excuse to delegate a lot of his work to her, so he’d started to think of her presence as a perk.

  And there were other advantages to the job, he remembered as he sank back into his luxurious desk chair and swivelled around so he could look out the floor-to-ceiling windows toward the lake. Yeah, his work was boring and he had a babysitter assigned to him, but he made good money and worked in a pleasant environment. It could be worse.

  He picked up the phone and said, “Zara? Thanks for calling back.” He didn’t bother to mention how long it had taken. No point in starting off with her on the defensive. “I guess you’ve probably been told about the plan by now?”

  “Yeah, I’ve been told.” It had been a long time since he’d heard her voice, but she still sounded about the same. Totally pugnacious and looking for trouble. “What the hell are you up to?”

  “Zane’s out in less than a month,” Cal replied calmly. “He’s going to need a job, and some stability.”

  “What? I mean, yeah, okay, but what’s that got to do with me and a community center?”

  “He can work there, too. He likes kids, and he told me he wants to find a way to start giving back.”

  “He’s a convicted felon! You really think he’s going to be allowed to work with kids?”

  “His crimes had nothing to do with children, and there was only peripheral violence. I don’t think there’s any reason we can’t trust him around young people. With adequate supervision, of course.”

  “Adequate . . . you don’t expect me to supervise him, do you? He’s my big brother! He’s not going to listen to me. And it’s not like I know anything about any of this!”

  “No, not you. We’ve got a professional manager in mind. Good experience, relevant education, the whole package. She’ll be in charge of supervising you and Zane.”

  “Okay, well . . .” He could practically hear her recalculating. “Okay, if this is what Zane wants and you can find a way to make it work, then, great, it sounds like a good plan. For him. But why am I getting dragged into it?”

  “Because I can’t find a way to make it work, not without some help.”

  “I really don’t understand how I’d help anything.”

  “Two ways.” Cal kicked his feet up onto the windowsill and leaned back in his chair. He was pretty pleased with himself on this one, but he tried not to let that come out in his voice. “One, you make the town more likely to accept Zane. You may not believe it, but you’re a golden girl up here now. A celebrity. Local girl made good. Pick the cliché, and you fit it. So people who might object to just Zane working at the center will be okay with it if you’re involved.”

  “You’re right, I don’t believe it.”

  “Well, if you ever came by, you’d know. As it is, you’ll have to trust me.”

  There was no answer, not right away. Finally, Zara said, “That was one way. What’s two?”

  “Two . . .” This one was going to take a bit more finesse. “You being involved makes it easier for Zane to accept the job. He’s a proud guy, Zara. You know that. He’s never wanted to take favors from me, not if they involved money. So he won’t want to take this job, not if he thinks it’s me giving him a handout.”

  “You think he’s going to be more willing to accept help from me? His baby sister? You’re delusional.”

  “Well, no, I’m not. As a matter of fact, once I explained how you’d be involved, Zane agreed to go along with it.”

  “Bullshit.”

  Cal grinned. He wished this meeting could have been in person so he’d have been able to see the expression on her face, but at least a phone call was better than e-mail. “It’s not bullshit at all. When I told him about his baby sister getting two concussions in one year and maybe facing permanent brain damage if she didn’t stay out of the ring for a while? When I told him how you were pushing to get back too early because you had nothing constructive to do with your time? When I said I’d love to get you involved in this project, but didn’t think I’d be able to persuade you if he wasn’t involved?” Yeah, this had been a good plan. Cal was proud of himself. “He knew what he had to do. He’s taking the job so that you’ll take the job.”

  Damn, it would have been great if he’d been able to see her as she processed it all. Finally she said, “Okay, you don’t know shit about my career, or my health. So you’re lying, really. And you’re playing us off against each other, for each other? You’ve set it up so he’ll take the job to help me, and I’ll take the job to help him.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Why? Why is this any of your business?”

  Interesting that she was the one asking that question, when her street-smart brother hadn’t. But Cal had the answer already figured out, ready for when he’d been talking to Zane, so it was easy to use it now. “Because I want the community center to succeed. I want it to target kids who need it. Sure, everyone’s welcome, but you know what I mean. The middle-class kids getting dropped off by their loving parents for an afternoon of basketball or crafts or something? They don’t need it. But there are kids who do. A lot of them. And I think you and Zane will be good at reaching those kids.”

  “Why, because we’re poor, downtrodden trash? We can speak to our people?”

  “You’re not trash. But, yeah, because you grew up without money and without strong parenting. Because you struggled with finding your places in the world. I think Zane should be involved because he can be a good lesson on what goes wrong if you don’t make the right decisions, and also a good lesson about it never being too late to change. And you? Obviously a success story. The kids need to see more of those. Probably the girls especially. You didn’t get knocked up and start a family way too young because you didn’t know what the hell else to do with your life. You broke free. The girls definitely need to see that.”

  He let her ponder for a moment, then said, “It doesn’t have to be a long-term commitment. Just give it an honest try. See if it works for you. Okay?”

  “I’ll think about it. And I’ll talk to Zane about it. This is my week to visit him.”

  “Are you safe to drive? With the concussion?” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew they’d been a mistake.

  “You don’t know shit about my health,” she growled. “Remember? And I can take care of myself.”

  “I know,” he said quickly. “Sorry. I’ve been talking to Zane too much—you know how protective he is.”

  “How protective he wants to be, maybe. But he hasn’t been able to do much for me for the last decade, and I’ve been just fine. I don’t need him or you thinking you’re in charge of my safety. No way.”

  “Absolutely,” Cal agreed. And he did agree, at least in theory. A bit harde
r to convince his instincts about it, but his brain was certainly aware that Zara Hale could take care of herself, and then some.

  “Okay,” she said grumpily. “I’ll talk to Zane about it.”

  “It’s not that terrible, Zara. We’ve got a good facility, and the town has changed. Seriously, they love you here now. There are posters of you all over the place, and they sold tickets and did a huge event at the bar for your last pay-per-view fight. It sold out fast.”

  “That fight lasted twenty-three seconds.”

  “And the cheering went on for hours. Every time they showed a replay, I thought the roof was going to lift off.”

  “You were there?”

  “Of course. Everyone who’s anyone was there. It was the social event of the season.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure your whole family showed up, furs and pearls and all.”

  Well, that was a good point. But he chose to ignore it. “You should come by,” he said. “I think you’d be pleasantly surprised.”

  “I’ll think about it. Maybe. After I talk to Zane. But if he’s not really into this, there’s no way I’m doing it.”

  “Fair enough.”

  They ended the call, and Cal sat and looked out his window. Zane and Zara Hale, back in Lake Sullivan. Back where they’d always belonged, before things had gone so wrong. He hadn’t been able to save either of them then, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t help them out now. He’d been raised with every privilege, all the financial and the emotional support he could have ever wanted, and it had made him strong. It had also given him a pretty good dose of liberal guilt, and helping Hales and disadvantaged kids was a great way to soothe his conscience.

  Yeah. He was doing the right thing. He pushed out of his chair and strode out of the office with the energy that always made Allison frown suspiciously. Things were coming together. It was about damn time.

  Two

  EVEN AFTER ALL these years, driving past the tall, windowless walls of the Clinton Correctional Facility still made Zara shudder. She’d first visited her brother here when she was sixteen, defying her aunt and hitchhiking all the way from the city in order to see him. He’d been furious, of course, frightened at the risk she’d taken; she’d been more intimidated by the prison than by the trip. Walking into the building with its cameras and protocols and armed guards felt like surrendering herself to the harsh authority she’d been fighting all her life. But she’d gone the first time and she’d kept going, every other week for the last decade. Once her career had picked up and she’d started getting bouts farther from home, she’d coordinated with Calvin, making sure he could fill in on the weeks she was travelling.

  It had become routine, more or less. She’d gotten to know the system, figured out not to wear underwire bras or any jewelry that would set off the metal detectors, learned the names of some of the corrections officers, gotten friendly enough that they wouldn’t be too uptight if Zane and Zara got into a particularly good card game and ended up going a few minutes over their allotted hour. Yeah, it was all fine now—everything but the long drive past the twenty-foot-tall white wall.

  The wall was too big, too oppressive. And it was too hard to think of her brother stuck on the other side of it for so long, not even able to look out a window and see the life that was passing him by.

  But she toughed it out this time just like all the others, turned into the parking lot, made sure she left her phone and any other contraband in the car, and headed for the visitors’ entrance.

  “Nice fight,” one of the guards said as she signed in. “I had my money on you, but damn, I thought she’d make you work a little harder for it!”

  Zara snorted. “It was hard enough, thanks.” She thought about the fierce elbow strike that had rocked her head back just before she’d gotten her arm lock and ended the fight. She’d barely been able to see by the time the ref raised her hand in victory, barely been able to stand as her trainers had helped her back to the change room. Yeah, she’d worked hard enough for that victory.

  “Got your next fight scheduled yet?” The guard clearly hadn’t heard the concussion rumors that were starting to circulate. Which made Zara wonder how the hell Calvin Montgomery seemed to know so much about it.

  She was glad to leave the guard in ignorance. “I’m taking a bit of a break. There’s no one really worth my time, you know?”

  “I hear ya,” he agreed, and waved her through the metal detector. She made her way to the familiar visiting room and looked at the people around her. A lot of families. Kids here visiting their fathers, growing up thinking this was normal. Spending time at home with just a mom, who was probably too tired to give them the attention they deserved. What had Calvin Montgomery said? Something about kids needing to find their place. She hoped these ones wouldn’t think “their place” was jail.

  And maybe she could do more than just hope. Maybe she could do something to help these kids, or others just like them.

  Or maybe she could mess them up even worse than they already were.

  Zane was escorted in, then, moving easily beside the CO, giving Zara a terse nod when he saw her. He’d been nineteen when he’d come to this place, and he’d be pushing thirty when he left. The wild, laughing boy was gone, replaced by a man who’d never existed outside the high, windowless walls of the prison.

  It struck her then what a gift the offer from Calvin Montgomery was. A chance at a stable job, doing something Zane wanted to do? How many other inmates were leaving this place with that kind of future ahead of them? Zane could have a life. It would be a late start, but he could do it. As long as Zara’s stubbornness didn’t get in the way.

  “Just another couple weeks,” she said as he sat down.

  Zane nodded. “Yeah. Did Cal talk to you?”

  “Yeah. You want to do it?”

  “I don’t know. Do you?” Typical dry, expressionless Zane. Even as a boy, he’d been volatile about all the little things, but stoic when something really mattered. As a man, he played his cards close to his chest for everything.

  “I don’t know. Do you—” How to ask this? Zane and Calvin had been best friends before Zane’s trouble, and that connection had never faltered. Calvin had stood by Zane through the trial, tried to use whatever connections he had to help out, and he’d kept Zane in his life ever since, even though it would have been so much easier to walk away. But still, Zara wanted to hear the words from her brother’s mouth. “Do you trust him? I mean, he’s a Montgomery. He’s—”

  “He’s a good man, and a good friend.” Zane’s tone left no room for disagreement. “You hating him because of his family is no different than them hating us because of ours.”

  “He left! Don’t tell me that wasn’t part of what set you off, seeing him get to go away and have opportunities while you were stuck at home. Trapped in that damn town—”

  “He went away to school, Zare. That’s pretty normal behavior. I messed up because I was messed up. Nothing to do with him.”

  “And you couldn’t go away because you were stuck looking after your little sister.”

  “More because I barely graduated high school. Bad grades and no money do not lead to college, little sister or not.” Zane shook his head. “You know all this. Seriously, you’re still mad at him? At any of them? You’ve held on to it all this time?”

  Well, yeah, she had, and she wasn’t quite ready to let it go yet. If she wasn’t blaming the Montgomerys for Zane’s downfall, maybe she’d have to blame herself. “So maybe it wasn’t his fault you did what you did. But it was his fault you got caught! He turned you in!”

  Another head shake, this one combined with an expression of frustration. “He did me a huge favor, Zare. You never should have followed me; you should have been safe at home.” He ignored her eye roll. “And when I needed someone to get you out of there, I called the one person I knew I could trust. I’m not going to blam
e him for doing exactly what I asked.”

  “You asked him to call the cops on you?” She could still remember Calvin’s strong arm around her waist as he’d dragged her away from the motel room where Zane had been hiding. The fear and anger at being forced away from her brother. And underneath it all, the relief at having an excuse to leave, a chance to get away from the raving, bewildering mess her brother had somehow become. But she’d never admitted to the last part, and she wasn’t going to do it now. “He called them as soon as we were out of the parking lot. Told them exactly where you were.”

  “I know.”

  “He turned you in.”

  “Of course he did,” Zane said levelly. “What else could he have done?”

  “Helped you!”

  “He did help me. He got you somewhere safe, and he did what he could to make sure I didn’t get in more trouble.” Zane looked at the ceiling for a moment, then cut his eyes back to her. “I can barely remember parts of that week,” he said, his voice so quiet Zara had to lean in to hear him over the buzz of the crowded room. “Not just the parts when I was drunk or high . . . other parts. Parts where I was just . . . just gone. I don’t know what I was doing when you got there.”

  She did. He’d been sitting in a ragged old armchair, staring at the duck painting hanging crookedly on the wall, holding a hunting knife. He hadn’t heard her say his name, not for a long time. Not until she’d moved around and gotten between him and that stupid duck painting. She didn’t want to think about that, not ever. “But once I got there, you got better.”

  He shook his head again, then shrugged. “I got—I got it under control. I held it together, so you wouldn’t get hurt. I tried to, at least. Just like I’d been trying back home. But I knew I couldn’t hold on. That’s why I called Cal.”

  “And when he got there, he should have helped you.”

  “How?” The question was short and simple, but there was an intensity in Zane’s expression that made it clear the answer would be much more complicated. “I still don’t know what was going on with me, not really. And as soon as he got there, as soon as I knew he’d keep you safe, I let myself go again. You remember that, don’t you?”