His Brother's Keeper

A few minutes later, a white van with the district logo on the door pulled up and Felicity jumped down from the driver’s seat. She headed over, her mouth an angry line. “I got pulled out of a district meeting to take a police call. You organized this?”

“Just got here myself. This is on your guy. Dave told the kids they were being evicted, so they got understandably upset.”

“I did not authorize him to do that. I asked him to call the district to find out if the waivers you’re having the kids sign would suffice.”

“Hell, no, we won’t go!” was the current chant.

Tyrell, from North Central, waved his sign: STRIKE a Blow for STRIKE. Beside him Devin waved a piece of notebook paper that said Defend Our Right to Fight. The kid had a way with words, at least.

“This is not good,” Felicity said. She was maintaining her cool, but was clearly flipped out. Maybe he had some leverage here.

“It’s about to get worse. The TV 6 investigative team should be here any minute. I believe the police will be back, too.”

Felicity’s eyes went wide, but she kept her voice calm. “You need to stop this right now.”

“I’m not sure I can.”

“Come on. You can’t control these boys?”

“Maybe I shouldn’t. Aren’t you impressed with their initiative? This is democracy in action. Don’t you teach kids to stand up for their rights? Isn’t that a lesson these poor barrio kids need to learn?”

“You think sarcasm helps?”

“Probably not,” he said. “Couldn’t resist.”

Anger made her eyes flash in the fading light. He doubted she’d appreciate him telling her she looked pretty when she was pissed.

She glanced over his shoulder. “Damn it.”

He turned to see a TV 6 van turning the corner. “Looks like the media circus is about to raise a tent.”

“You’re an ass, you know that?”

“No doubt.” He fought a grin.

“What do you want, Gabe?”

“What the kids want. The gym back.”

She glared at him, then glanced nervously past him.

“Getting closer?”

“All right. You can stay four weeks, but you’ll have to split the space with my after-school program, fifty-fifty.”

He considered that. They could condense the equipment, he supposed. Clear out a few mats. “Make it eight weeks and then we negotiate.”

She glared at him. “This is not over.” She went to the gym entrance. “Attention, please,” she said. The boys stopped marching and looked her way.

“I need to speak to your leader.”

Silence. They glanced at each other, not sure who to name.

“Okay, who called the TV station?”

“I did,” Alex said.

“Then it’s you. The rest of you go in and take your signs with you. Alex and I will finalize an agreement on your behalf.” She unlocked the door and pushed it open for them. The boys ran into the gym yelling in triumph.

Alex stared at Felicity, a look of mild awe on his face. Good God. He had a crush on her. Gabe hoped to hell the kid wouldn’t fold at her first demand.

“Your coach and I agreed that we’ll keep the gym open for eight weeks, Alex, but only if you and I can keep the protest out of the news.”

“But the TV people are already here.”

“That won’t matter if you tell them we’ve worked out our differences.”

“But I want to explain about our rights and fighting for them and all.”

“If you want your gym back, you need to shut down the story. That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”

“Shit.” Alex cringed over the swearword. “Sorry.”

They all watched as a guy in a golf shirt with the station’s logo began unloading a camera from the back of the SUV.

“Do we have a deal?” Felicity held out her hand, looking at him steadily.

“I wanted to be on TV so bad.”

“When you’re a leader you have to look out for the group’s interests, not just your own.”

Alex nodded and squared his shoulders, as if taking on a heavy burden. He shook her hand.

“Great. Let’s go straighten this out.” She looked over her shoulder at Gabe. “After this, we need to talk.”

He watched her walk away, her hand on Alex’s shoulder. She wore another designer business suit, this one pale yellow, tailored to fit every dip and swell of her figure. She looked fresh for this late in the day. He could watch her hair float around her head for hours. Not to mention her hips, the way they swayed. And those legs, striding fast on swanky heels. For the first time, he saw why women got obsessed with shoes. The ones she had on made her legs look great. Mm-mm-mm.

She reminded him of an actress. Who? Cameron Diaz. Yeah, in her early films. No doubt men tried to take care of Felicity, though he’d bet she shut them down right quick. She was soft, but steely. The girl next door with a shotgun under her bed she could strip and clean blindfolded.

He’d bet she got underestimated a lot.

He’d be sure not to.

CHAPTER THREE

AT©SIX©O’CLOCK, Gabe headed for Felicity’s office, hoping to talk her out of however pissy she still was from the afternoon’s incident.

The media situation turned out fine. The guy had been sent only to get footage of the protest. With nothing to shoot, he got into his truck and drove off, no problem.