Deborah Fletcher Mello - Tempted By The Badge

Joanna depressed the off button on her television remote, the room spiraling into silence. Rising from the bed, she moved to stand in front of the full-length mirror, staring at her reflection. She no longer recognized the woman looking back at her. Just twenty-four hours earlier she’d been contemplating a cruise to Cuba for the summer break or perhaps traveling to Italy instead for a holiday fling with a handsome stranger. Just one day ago she didn’t have a care in the world, her biggest concern being whether to repaint the master bathroom finch yellow or the dull beige her mother wanted.

Today the reflection staring back at her wasn’t sure if her holiday vacation would include a stint in a maximum security prison with her name on the state’s sex offenders registry, or worse, the unemployment line, her teaching license forever terminated.

The bathroom was never going to be finished and life felt everything but carefree. What she did know for certain was that, for her, the school year was done and finished, and she might never be able to step foot into another classroom. Just the thought made her want to start crying again.

Joanna hung her head, her shoulders rolling forward as she felt as if she was suddenly struggling with the weight of the world. She’d risen early, having barely slept. She had tossed and turned for hours, despite her best efforts to rest. Having always been in full control of her life, she was suddenly out of control, someone else pulling her strings and intent on ruining her.

She took a deep breath. She was angry, frustration fueling rising rage. Mingus had been right. Had she been able to get to David Locklear, she would have probably been in handcuffs for murder because she really wanted to strangle the boy.

David Locklear had been a promising student, though slightly lazy and often distracted. He’d been raised by a single mother, his father having disappeared before his birth. His mother had been a stern disciplinarian and, for all intents and purposes, he’d been raised well. But he could be troublesome, using his teenage antics to impress his peers, no matter the consequences.

The attention Joanna had given the kid hadn’t been any more or any less than she’d given any of her other students. She had offered to tutor him when he was struggling. Had disciplined him when necessary. Had often reached out to his mother to keep her abreast of his progress and she’d advocated for him when others had been ready to write him off. He’d excelled, his grades better than average, and Joanna had been ecstatic for him when he’d been accepted to college. His accusations made no sense and she had no clue what had motivated his lies or what proof had been given to justify her being charged.

The smell of fresh coffee suddenly assaulted her senses and she realized she desperately needed a cup, maybe even two, if she had any hope of getting through the day. Pots and pans were rattling in her kitchen and she whispered a silent prayer of gratitude for Simone. The two women had talked for hours. Simone had made her laugh and had let her cry. There had been no judgment and the woman’s calming presence had been exactly what she’d needed to keep from losing her mind. Shortly after midnight Simone had retired to the guest bedroom and Joanna had been grateful to have someone else there with her in her home.

Joanna moved toward the door, swinging it open eagerly. She headed down the short length of hall to the kitchen. Her eyes widened in surprise when she found Simone’s brother Mingus standing room center, a foam container of eggs in one hand and a stick of butter in the other.

He gave her a nod of his head as her gaze met his. “Good morning.”

“Hey! Good morning! I was expecting to find Simone in here making all that noise.”

“She had to leave. She has a trial starting today and needed to get to her office to prepare. She said to tell you that she will call and check on you later.” He turned to the stove, resting the eggs beside a glass bowl on the counter. He threw a glance over his shoulder, deliberately eyeing her from head to toe. A slight smirk crossed his face, something carnal seeping from his eyes.

The moment was intensely awkward as Joanna suddenly realized she was standing there in sheer panties and a tank top, her bathrobe forgotten in the bedroom. The attire hid very little, all her goodies on full display. She cussed as she spun on her heels and hurried back in the other direction. Behind her, she could hear Mingus chuckling softly.

* * *

Minutes later Mingus could hear her in the other room, still muttering under her breath. Her reaction had been priceless and he was amused. Despite his best efforts he couldn’t stop thinking about the visual she’d blessed him with. The form-fitting garment she’d been wearing had flattered the round of her buttocks and the hint of cleavage between her pert breasts. Her skin was a rich, warm, gingerbread brown and with the length of black hair that hung past her shoulders, she’d been quite the sight to behold. But it had been her bright smile pulled from ear to ear that had him still grinning. He liked seeing her happy.

He had cracked the eggs into the glass bowl and seasoned them with salt and pepper. A second trip to her fridge produced cheese and an assortment of vegetables to complete the morning meal. He was sliding omelets onto two plates when she returned. This time she was wearing denim jeans and a white-and-blue button-up shirt. Her hair had been pulled into a ponytail that hung down her back. She was still just as stunning. He ignored the rising sensation quivering for attention in his southern quadrant, instead reaching for the coffeepot to fill two cups with brew.

“I hope you’re hungry.”

“I usually don’t eat breakfast, but it smells really good.”

“It’s the most important meal of the day. I always eat breakfast in case I don’t get to eat for the rest of the day.”

Joanna moved to take a seat at the table as Mingus pointed to her plate. “Does that happen often? That you don’t get to eat?”

“Sometimes.”

Mingus suddenly reached across the table, motioning for her hands. For a brief moment the gesture caught her off guard. She eyed him questioningly, her brows raised. He waved his fingers a second time until she extended her arms toward his. He clasped her hands beneath his own and lowered his head.

“Father God, thank You for the food we are about to receive for the nourishment of our bodies. In Jesus Christ’s name we pray. Amen.”

Joanna was still eyeing him curiously as he let her go and leaned back in his seat. He reached for his fork and began to eat. She reached for hers, poking at the two-egg omelet filled with cheese, spinach, onion and tomato. She rested her fork against the plate and reached for her coffee cup. After splashing it with hazelnut-flavored creamer, she took a sip, her eyes closing as she savored the rich flavor.

“Coffee’s really not good for you,” Mingus said as he took a sip of his own brew.

Joanna smiled. “So, breakfast is good and coffee isn’t?”

“That’s what they say.”

“So why are you drinking it?”

“I never pay much attention to what they say. I do what I want, when I want.”

Joanna took another sip. “Works for me,” she said, tossing him a look of complicity.

Mingus resisted the urge to smile, his game face sliding into place. He swallowed a forkful of eggs, the melted cheese and vegetables bursting with flavor in his mouth. For a moment they both sat savoring the meal, neither saying anything until Joanna spoke.

“So, what’s on the agenda today?”

“I’m going to take you to Ellington’s office, so we can figure out his next steps. After that, you’ll come back here.”