Jack Kursed Page 17

  "Guys don't flock to you? Well, when you run by in shorts, I'll let you know."

  "I don't exactly put myself out there. I've never been one for clubs, as you can imagine. I'm single and happy."

  Jack could tell she was being honest, and he liked that. Erica didn't need a man to make her happy. He rested his head on his hand and said something he'd never said before.

  "Tell me more about yourself."

  Erica smiled and obliged. She told Jack about her family and growing up in San Diego. She moved to the east coast after her bar incident left her scarred, to get a fresh start. It wasn't long after settling in Parkville she found out she could never have children. She went through a spell of depression when she first began teaching, but worked through it on her own and became the joyful person she was now.

  Her body language told another story.

  Erica was a happy woman, but she deeply hated the scar on the side of her face. She hid it as often as possible. If she wasn't able to keep her head turned at an obscure angle, she would rest her head on her hand on that side. She felt ugly, and had a hard time taking Jack at his word that she was beautiful. He didn't care. She would choose to believe what she wanted, and that wouldn't stop him from admiring her when she wasn't looking. Or even when she was looking. He was a jerk like that.

  He hung on her every word, storing away every detail. There were very few people he took an interest in over the decades.

  "I get so pissed off at some of the parents I deal with," she was saying. "Skipping parent-teacher conferences, not giving a shit at all about what their kids are doing. In the meantime you got people like me who can't have kids, yet they don't give a rat's ass about their own."

  Jack laughed. As the conversation went on, he realized she was just as blunt as he was.

  "Sorry," she said. "I guess I should watch my mouth more."

  "I hope I'm not one of those asshole parents."

  "No way. Tiffany adores you."

  "Well, she shouldn't."

  Erica smiled and turned to face him head on, forgetting all about her scar.

  "So, tell me about you," she said. "A single foster-father, you don't hear about that too often. What do you do for a living?"

  He looked back at Victoria and Tiffany once again, trying to gauge how much time he had. He held in a laugh when he saw Victoria's body tense and jerk. She was actually competing with the girl.

  "I own a convenience store."

  "Really?" she asked, genuinely interested. "Where at?"

  "Ah, see, I have this rule. I don't give out too much info to my foster-child's teacher."

  "Cute, cute."

  They talked for a few more minutes before Victoria and Tiffany headed toward them. The vampire had a look of utter disgust on her face.

  "Are children born with some innate ability to play video games?" she asked. "I won one game out of five."

  Victoria almost sounded like an old irritated vampire, and not a thirty-year-old mortal. Jack raised an eyebrow, and she adjusted her attitude appropriately.

  As they left the diner Victoria stopped him.

  "Keep the teacher around as long as you can."

  "Why?"

  "Because every rude thing you say, every inappropriate comment you make, she likes."

  He nodded thoughtfully. "I guess it's good I'm a rude, inappropriate guy."

  *****

  It was two o'clock in the morning as Jack sat on his couch. A Roger Corman movie played quietly on TV as he studied Tiffany's camera once again. The only uniform he could think of that would be a dark blue would be a policeman or possibly a security guard. He met a few milkmen in the past that wore a blue uniform, but doubted one time-traveled from the early twentieth century to conduct a shady meeting in an alley.

  It took a few calls and nearly an hour, but as one Roger Corman movie led into another, he had basically the life history of the six police officers on street duty the night he met Tiffany.

  He didn't know why he was bothering. It made no difference to him who was murdered in a back alley. It wasn't Victoria, Tiffany, or Erica, and that ended the list of people whom he felt the slightest affection. Whoever it was, whatever was happening in the photo, they had made no effort to get to Tiffany. It wouldn't make any sense to do so. She wasn't a credible witness, wasn't a threat, and probably couldn't describe anyone if she had to, besides calling someone a monster.

  Boredom, as always, was the biggest reason he had six peoples' lives in front of him. It didn't escape Jack's attention that one of the men on duty that night was Officer Mark Taylor, the very same officer that visited Tiffany's class.

  Jack could smell the corruption on the man. Taylor was obviously an asshole. Searching through Tiffany's pack, questioning her camera, his general attitude. But was the man involved in other activities, such as working with a vampire and killing people in dark alleys?

  He didn't know, and didn't care. As long as Tiffany was safe, all was right in the world. Still, as he looked over the six officers' files, he knew he should have a backup plan in place.

  His train of thought came to a screeching halt as a scream pierced his ears from upstairs. He hesitated for only a moment before jumping from the couch and taking the steps two at a time. Throwing open Tiffany's bedroom door, he saw her silhouette sitting up in bed. He flipped on the light and absorbed the room in a second. No vampires, werewolves, witches, or ghouls. No shadows creeping across the floor. He ran to her side and grabbed her by the shoulders.

  "Tiffany! What's wrong?"

  The girl screamed for another five seconds, searching the room in a panic. She couldn't stop crying and her words were hard to understand.

  "I had a bad dream, Jack," she managed to say.

  Jack shook his head, thankful that's all it was.

  "Don't we all?"

  The scent grabbed his nose at the same time he rested his hand in the wet spot on her bed. He wrinkled his nose in disgust as anger took hold.

  "Ah, Tiffany. Are you shitting me? You pissed the damn bed?"

  Tiffany saw the look of horror on Jack's face and cried even more. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to."

  "Whatever. Look, go take a bath while I clean this mess up. Don't put your piss-stained pajamas in the basket. Put them in a bag. You got that?"

  Tiffany nodded and left the room, crying the entire time. She crossed the hall and closed the bathroom door behind her. Jack carefully folded the sheets, mindful of where he was touching. He gathered the mattress pad as well as the blanket and carried everything to the basement.

  He gripped the sides of the washer after starting a cycle. He didn't know much about bed-wetting, but sincerely hoped changing and washing sheets wouldn't end up turning into a chore for him. His anger rose as he thought that if Tiffany wasn't with him he wouldn't even own sheets and blankets.

  A small sobbing sound came from the vent above the washer. It took Jack a moment to realize it was Tiffany crying in the bathroom two floors above him. Her uncontrolled sadness blended with the bathwater running.

  For the first time in his life, guilt and regret rushed in to push out his usual anger. He pulled out his phone and tried to control his own emotions. Erica sounded exactly as he expected, tired and grumpy.

  "Hello?"

  "I made Tiffany cry. How do I fix it?"

  "What? Who is this?"

  "It's Jack. Don't act like other guys call you. They don't."

  "Jack? Jack who?"

  "Jack from school. We saw each other a few hours ago. Wake the hell up."

  "It's almost three in the morning."

  "I know what time it is. I don't sleep."

  She suddenly perked up. "Yeah. I want to know what that means."

  "Later. How do I stop Tiffany from crying?"

  "Let me guess, you said something stupid. Just apologize to her. Be yourself, and apologize."

  "That's the worst advice I ever heard. Being myself is what made her cry in the first place."

  "If
it's that bad, than why are you asking me? I can't have kids, remember? Why are you coming to me for parenting advice?"

  "Because I value your opinion. I trust you."

  There was a slight pause. "Really?"

  "Yes. Seriously, you think that's it? If I go up there and say I'm sorry, we'll be cool?"

  "Just give her one of those smiles of yours. It always makes me melt."

  "What?"

  He could almost see her blushing on the other end.

  "I'm tired. I'm saying things without a filter right now."

  "Welcome to my world. Except for the tired part."

  "Well, unless you need something else, I'm hanging up. And not a word about my legs."

  "No word will be said. But Erica, thank you."

  "You're very welcome."

  Jack made his way back to the second floor and put an ear to the door. He could still her Tiffany crying. He knocked on the door a few times.

  "Tiffany? Can I come in a second?"

  "No. Go away."

  "Well, the bad news is that it's my house. So I'm giving you ten seconds to wrap a towel around yourself."

  He counted aloud to ten and then slowly opened the bathroom door. Tiffany sat in the tub with a towel around her entire body, half of it being in the tub. Jack was mad for only a moment, but decided the situation was more humorous than anything else. His chest hiccuped when he saw her red eyes and tear-stained cheeks. He sat on the toilet and offered her a smile.

  "How are you feeling?"

  She was quiet, lowering her head to stare at the bathwater.

  "I'm really sorry I peed in the bed."

  "No, I'm sorry for getting upset."

  He'd offered apologies before in his life, but this time there was something different. Sincerity.

  "I wish I was like you. You never sleep, so you don't have bad dreams."

  "Tiffany," he said, wiping a tear from her cheek. "Don't ever say you want to be like me. I'm not a nice person. And nightmares aren't the end of the world."

  "You are the nicest person. I wish you were my real dad."

  Jack smiled at the girl's words. He sat next to the tub and handed her a brush so she could comb the knots out of her hair, something they should have done before she went to bed. Her towel got even wetter as she shifted it around to free an arm.

  "What was your nightmare about?"

  "I dreamed Miss Simmons and the monster were chasing me, and I couldn't get away from them."

  "Listen to me. You don't have to worry about Miss Simmons or the monster."

  "You don't believe me about the monster. No one believes me."

  "That's not true. I believe you."

  She stopped brushing her hair and looked at him, her eyes full of hope. Then her expression changed into one of doubt.

  "You're just saying that to make me feel better."

  Jack wondered if he was making another bad decision, trying to convince the girl she actually saw a monster. Truth won out in the end.

  "I'm not gonna go into details, but you saw something in that alley. He probably had long teeth and red eyes."

  Tiffany's eyes went wide as she reached out to hug Jack. He frowned as she pressed the wet towel into him, getting his own shirt soaked.

  "You believe me," she said, her little voice strained with emotion.

  "Yup."

  "Is the monster gonna get me?"

  "Not as long as I'm alive," he said, laughing at his choice of words. "They won't bother you, Tiffany. There's no reason to."

  The girl wouldn't let go, and Jack surprisingly didn’t mind.

  "Okay. Finish your bath, and I'll make us some chocolate milk. I'll set up a blanket and pillow on the couch, and you can sleep downstairs tonight."

  Tiffany's enthusiasm returned. "I can? Will you be there?"

  "Yeah. So, you forgive me?"

  She beamed at him and nodded. He went to leave, but she had one more thing to say.

  "You're an angel, Jack."

  "Thank you very much."

  He waited until he was in the hall and out of earshot before laughing.

  "Angel of death, maybe."

  CHAPTER 12

  Jack studied the parents' faces as he parked along the playground outside school. Some of them hated the routine, and actually snapped and barked at their children as they left their cars. He loved the routine. He loved cooking breakfast for Tiffany. He would play music on his iPhone and laugh as the girl swayed in her seat while eating.

  Jack noticed Robert the ex-bully chasing someone on the playground. When he saw Tiffany he stopped and made his way inside school. Jack nudged Tiffany on the shoulder.

  "You got that little bastard scared of you," he said. "Flex for me."

  She stopped in the middle of the playground and flexed her right arm as hard as she could. Jack made a show of squeezing her bicep and falling on the ground. Other children, and even some of the parents, laughed. Some of the single parents greeted him by name and batted their eyes as he climbed to his feet.

  He raised an eyebrow when he saw Mrs. Jones leaning against the wall in Erica’s usual spot. He approached the older teacher. She gave him a polite nod and smiled down at Tiffany.

  "Good morning, Miss March," Jones said. She had a habit of giving a title even to young children. "Ready to learn?"

  "I guess so."

  "Where’s Erica?" Jack asked.

  "Who?"

  "Erica Hernandez."

  "Oh, Miss Hernandez," Jones said, stretching out the name. It was obvious she didn’t like the familiarity between Jack and the beautiful teacher. "I’m afraid she’s out sick today."

  "Substitute teacher!" Tiffany shouted.

  "Which means that you’ll behave and not cause any trouble."

  "Not even a little bit?"

  "Eh, maybe just a little," he said, just to see the look on Jones’ face.

  Tiffany cheered and ran inside. Jack turned to walk away, but Mrs. Jones addressed him.

  "Mr. Kursed," she said. "It seems to some of us that you and Miss Hernandez have gotten close."

  "Your point?"

  She blinked, not expecting Jack’s bluntness. "Well, you can tell just by looking at her that she has a past. And with Tiffany being impressionable-"

  "I don’t care about your opinion of Erica or Tiffany, so keep it to yourself. Is there anything else?"

  Jones said nothing. Her mouth opened to speak, but nothing came out. She could only manage a weak shake of her head.

  He left the stunned teacher behind and climbed in his truck. It only took a few minutes of browsing the net on his iPhone to find Erica’s home address. She didn’t live too far from the beach, but on the other side of town.

  "I love technology," he said as he pulled away from school.

  It didn't take long to get to Erica's side of Parkville. The beach traffic wasn't bad, but he had to stop for the occasional group trying to make their way to the sand on foot. It dawned on him that as long as he'd been caring for Tiffany that they hadn't gone to the beach yet. He'd have to fix that soon.

  He studied Erica's house as he parked outside her front yard. The outside was nice enough. A simple Cape Cod with neatly trimmed bushes a well-kept yard. Her hideous Jeep was parked in the driveway. The plastic on the Jeep's shattered windows fought against the tape holding it in place as the wind blew.

  It took Erica nearly a minute to answer the door.

  "Jack? What the hell are you doing here?"

  He smiled at the sight of her. She wore flannel pajamas and her hair was a mess. There were bags under her eyes and a box of tissues in her hand. He could see a couch over her shoulder, and various medicines scattered across the coffee table.

  "Holy shit. You look terrible."

  She rolled her eyes. "You're so sweet."

  "I just dropped Tiffany off, and they said you were sick. She's at school right now being taught by a strange woman."

  "Well, now that you’re here, I’ll heal in ten minutes."
<
br />   He laughed. He told her when they first met that the jury was out on her personality. The jury was in now, and he found her to be a charming, sweet, caring person. The complete opposite of him. The only thing they had in common was a wicked sense of humor. She could easily keep up with him and his sarcastic comments.

  "What do you want?"

  "I want to come in."

  "I caught something pretty bad. I’ll get you sick."

  "Believe me, I doubt that."

  She gave him a curious look before stepping aside to let him in.

  Jack could learn everything there was to know about a person simply by being in their house. There were no pictures of any friends, only an older couple that had to be her parents. A few pictures were visible of her spending time with her parents, but they were taken before she had her scar. Despite her being sick, the house was neat and tidy, with the exception of the coffee table. Warm, cozy colors. A beautiful kitchen, but no dining room.

  "Just stopping by for a visit?" she asked as she settled on the couch. "This has nothing to do with my legs or anything?"

  Glancing at her coffee table, he noticed she had no water. He went into her kitchen and poured her a glass of iced water. She kept an eye on him the entire time.

  "Well, I always hope to catch you in pair of running shorts or something." He handed her the water, and she seemed truly surprised and grateful. "But not this time. I usually relax a bit before working in the garden, and figured I’d hang out with you."

  "So, you don’t need an invitation, don’t care that I’m sick. You just look me up and swing on by."

  "Yeah. I’m an asshole like that."

  She laughed and gathered up her blanket so he had a spot to sit on the couch.

  "You’re far from an asshole. Honest, direct, funny. You try to put on that tough guy image, but it doesn't always work."

  He felt awkward at Erica analyzing him, and gestured around them to change the subject. "Judging from your pictures, you don’t know anyone at all."

  "I like my privacy."

  "But you let me in. I feel so honored."

  "You should."

  They were quiet for a moment, just watching one another. He was aware at that moment they were officially friends, a rare treat for him.