Susan Crosby - His Most Scandalous Secret

“You might be tempted to carry a weapon of some sort, but remember—a weapon can be taken away and used against you. So, you need to use weapons that they can’t take. Your fingers. Hands. Elbows. Your feet and knees. I’ll show you later.”

She looked up at Chase, mentally measuring his height. He stared back, his eyes almost silver in hue. “You’re what, six inches—” She stopped, realizing how he might inteipret her question. “Um—”

“Seven,” he said under his breath.

“Um, Mr. Ryan is, um, six or seven inches taller than me—” she emphasized the word taller, and ignored his eyes, sparkling with what she strongly suspected was laughter “—and outweighs me by probably fifty or sixty pounds. Yet, if I’d used full force against him, he’d be on the floor right now. And I wasn’t even mad. When you add anger and fear to your strength, there’s little you can’t do, at least one-on-one.”

“Okay, let’s recap,” Tessa said two hours later. “What’s the best way to get yourself out of trouble?”

“Practice,” someone called out.

“How?”

“In your head, every day. And with your friends. It makes you be prepared for anything.”

“Good. What’s your best weapon?”

“Havin’ you along, Miss Rose,” Luis said.

“Your hands and feet,” one of the girls said when the laughter died.

“Screaming,” said another.

“Biting.”

“All correct answers,” Tessa said. “Make a lot of noise, fight as hard as you can and just as dirty.”

“Don’t believe anything your attacker tells you, ’cause he’s lying,” the quietest girl in the class said. She hadn’t spoken during the entire two hours. “Get hurt fighting back, if you have to, instead of getting raped or—or worse.”

“Exactly. Thanks for reminding us, Sherry.”

“Don’t ever let ’em take you somewhere. Crash the car, or make them crash it somehow,” Luis added.

“Good. What’s your primary goal?”

“To get away.”

“Right. Everybody say that together, loud.”

“To get away!” they yelled.

“Nobody tries to be a hero, right?”

“Right!”

“Mr. Ryan, do you want to add anything?” Tessa asked.

Chase approached the podium. “I think that at least once a month we should practice what we’ve learned today. And I say ‘we’ because I’ve been as much a student as you today. Miss Rose, that was an excellent program. I’m sure I speak for everyone when I say that we all feel more prepared. Thank you very much.”

She scooted the teenagers out of the room, embarrassed at the applause, happy to have everything she’d learned in the past twenty years or so be received with such enthusiasm.

“There’s someone I’d like you to meet.” Chase indicated the man standing, posture perfect, at the back of the room, as he had been for the two hours of the program.

She judged him to be in his seventies, although his solid body could have passed for a lot younger. His buzz-cut gray hair seemed perfect for his almost military demeanor.

“Tessa, this is Wilson Buckley, the man the Center is named for. Sarge, meet Tessa Rose.”

They shook hands. His was a firm handshake, not bone-crushing. Straightforward. Undoubtedly just like the man.

“I don’t think I’ve been witness to a better program,” Sarge said directly. “You oughta take your show on the road. Run this at all the middle schools and high schools in the city.”

“We had a hard enough time getting some of the parents here to sign permission slips,” Chase said. “I had to call a lot of them personally. They live in denial of the dangers their children face today that they didn’t.”

“With any luck,” Tessa said, “the kids will share their knowledge with their siblings and friends, maybe even their parents. Mr. Buckley, I’m really happy to meet you. Chase speaks so highly of you.”

“Call me Sarge.”

Chase excused himself to go change for dinner, leaving the two alone. They sat at a nearby table.

“How do you like working here?” Sarge asked.

“It’s the best job I’ve had, the best people I’ve worked with. You must be proud.”

“To have the Center named after me? Embarrassing, to tell you the truth. Seems like a person should be dead before they name something after ’em.”

Tessa smiled. “I think it’s nice to be recognized while you can enjoy the notoriety.”

“I couldn’t talk Chase out of it.” He rested his arms on the table and clasped his hands. “He’s single-minded about most things.”

“I’ve kind of noticed that about him. He works too hard, too.”

“You thinkin’ about changin’ that, Miss Tessa Rose?”

The way he said her name made her pause. “You don’t approve?”

He waited a few beats before he answered. “How is your family?”

Her heart rate escalated. “My family?”

“Yeah, family. Father, mother, brother...”

“You know them?”

“Used to know pretty much everybody hereabouts. Lost track of some.”

“I see.”

He leaned toward her. “I don’t know what your motives are, but I’m tellin’ you, don’t you hurt that boy.”

Tessa swallowed. “It’s the last thing I want.”

“I can see you’re a decent person, Tessa Rose, and I don’t think you’d want to hurt him. But you could and likely will. Whatever he did, he’s paid for it. Long ago.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

“I just wanted to meet him. Then when I met him, I wanted to know him. The more I know him, the more I like him.” She leaned forward. “Are you going to tell him?”

Sarge pushed himself upright and stared hard at her. “That should come from you. But have a care, Miss Tessa Rose. Some people who seem strongest on the outside are the most fragile inside.”

Tessa nodded, unable to utter a sound. She sat motionless until Chase rejoined her a little later.

“Sarge gone?” he asked.

“Yes.”

He bent to capture her gaze. “Are you all right?”

She made herself smile as she stood. “I’m starving.”

“Let’s go, then.”

Chase realized he was more aware of his surroundings than he’d ever been as they walked to the restaurant. It wouldn’t be dark for a couple of hours yet, making it easier to be on the lookout for Stone Man, reminding Chase that Les hadn’t gotten back to him with information on the teenager or on Dodger yet.

He let the thought go. The cool summer evening seemed made for holding hands and strolling. But strolling was a bad idea, according to Tessa’s lecture, and he’d also promised himself no hand-holding. He was trying hard to remember why.

They walked several blocks without speaking. “Are you worn out?” he asked finally, curious about her silence.

“Kind of. The kids were great, though, weren’t they? I loved the way the girls wouldn’t let the boys joke about anything. As soon as the boys got as serious as the girls, they really accomplished a lot.”

“It’s a good group.”

“Thanks to you.”

“These kids weren’t hopeless to start with. My goal has always been to hook them in before they get involved in things they shouldn’t And some of the best counselors we’ve had are gang members who’ve matured out of the gangs. They don’t pull any punches when they describe what the life is really like. But kids who don’t have much of a family life are the most vulnerable, because they’re searching for a connection, and they’ll settle for what they can get. We have to catch them at the right moment.” They stopped at a traffic signal. He found himself eyeing the drivers as each car passed.

“Tell me about Sarge. How did you meet him?” she asked.

“I was assigned to his foster care.”