Between the Lines

Between the Lines

Copyright
© 2015 by Jane Charles

Cover
Design by Lily Smith

Night
Shift Publishing

This
book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, locations and events are either a
product of the author’s imagination, fictitious or used fictitiously. Any
resemblance to any event, locale or person, living or dead, is purely
coincidental.

This
e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be
re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book
with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If
you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for
your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for
respecting the hard work of this author.

Dedication

For
all of my teachers! I’ve had some of the best teachers in the world. From my
first grade teacher who taught me to read, to my high school English teacher
who made creative writing so much fun. For the math teachers who tried to help
me understand that letters belong in equations, the science teachers who were
okay with me getting queasy when faced with a dead frog and a scalpel, and the
sociology teacher who challenged us to think beyond our small, high school
world. To the choir director, band leader and musical directors and art
teachers who touched my life from kindergarten until I accepted my high school
diploma on my 18
^th
birthday. Thank you for being so awesome. Thank
you for caring. Thank you for the encouragement and always being such a
positive influence on my life.

Preface

The
Baxter Academy of Arts is a fictional high school and a product of my
imagination, as is the city/town, which still has no name. It’s located in New
York State, has a population of roughly 20,000 people, and is within driving
distance to Poughkeepsie.

Picture a
friendly community with tree lined streets and Victorian houses. It has a town
square, complete with a gazebo in the center. This is where the adults live,
many of them working at Baxter.

As for
Baxter Academy of Arts, I’m not sure if there’s a high school like it anywhere,
though I hope there is. It serves the educational needs of teenagers with
emotional and behavioral needs. The students once lived in residential
treatment centers, group homes, half-way houses, or juvenile detention centers
and would simply be lost among the hundreds of students at any high school.
And, they are incredibly talented in the arts. They are at Baxter to prepare to
go out in the world and realize dreams when at one time, they were without
hope.

I hope
you enjoy the series.

Jane

Gabe –
1

“Who the
hell is that?” Mateo Perez, a therapist at the Baxter Academy of Arts, says
before giving a low whistle.

I’m
wondering the same thing.  A long-legged blonde, short skirt swinging behind
her most definitely fine ass is going up the steps of the Victorian house where
Mateo and I share an apartment. She’s carrying bags, as if she has been
shopping, but I don’t see a car. “If I hurry, maybe I’ll find out.” Reaching
back I grab my cane from the back seat.

“And
maybe I don’t need to get my oil changed just yet either.” Mateo is leaning
around me. We’re both watching her struggle to open the door.  Wait, she’s
unlocking the door. She has a key?

“Dude, she
lives in our house?” Mateo asks in amazement.

“Apparently,
and I think it’s time I got neighborly.” I grin at him and open the passenger
side door. “You should probably go get that oil changed. You’re already over
the mileage limit.”

“I can’t
let you face that heavenly sweetness all alone.” Mateo gets out of the car and
walks around the front of it, meeting me on the sidewalk. “Besides, she’d look
so much better with me.”

I shoot
him a look.

“You’re
blonde. She’s blonde. Boring! However, her sexy blondness with my rugged dark
looks would be a beautiful combination.” He grins. “Besides, the ladies can’t
resist a hot Latino.”

“Well, if
you see any, don’t send them around here, okay.”

“Hey!”

He may
act insulted but I know he’s not. The one thing Mateo has never lacked is
confidence. “Go get your oil changed. I got this.” I limp toward the house and
Mateo rushes past me. Damn him for being able to move quicker than me. I
haven’t cursed my injury in a long time, but I do today.

“Let me
help you,” Mateo is saying as he takes the bags from the beauty, just as I
reach the steps.

She
smiles and it’s brilliant. Straight, white teeth, lush lips, blushing skin.
“Thank you.” She turns back to the door. “My key seems to be sticking.”

“Here,
let me.” The door’s been touchy since we moved in. Depending on the weather,
sometimes it’s impossible to open and we have to go through the back. It’s just
a small inconvenience for living in an old house with cheap rent. Mateo and I
snatched up the two bedroom apartment right after we started working at Baxter
last summer. It’s roomy enough that we don’t feel like we are on top of each
other. He’s saving every penny so he can to send money to his mom and siblings,
and I’m all about building my bank account to pay off school loans since I lost
my scholarship when I could no longer play football.

I grab
the handle, lift up on the door and turn the key. The deadbolt slides out of
place, and I open the door.

“Thank
you so much,” the blonde says gratefully.

Mateo may
have got to her first, but I got the door open. Score one for me. “Hi, I’m Gabe
Kent. Did you just move in?”

“Ellen
West.” She returns my smile. Damn she’s beautiful. “Moved in a few days ago.”

Mateo
steps between us. “Mateo Perez,” he says. “I’d be happy to carry these upstairs
for you.”

She
laughs. “That’s okay, I got it.” And she takes the bags from him.

Mateo and
I just stand there staring after her as she goes up the stairs. My eyes are on
those legs that go on forever until she disappears. “She is near perfection.”

“You got
that right.” Mateo whistles. “And, she’d still look better on my arm.”

I ignore
him and unlock the door to our apartment. “Beer?”

“Sure.”
He follows me inside. “Shit. I forgot. I’m on call. None for me.”

“Your
loss.” I toss the keys on the table and limp into the kitchen. As I grab a
beer, I also take the icepack from the freezer. My knee could use the cold. It
hasn’t been this bad for a while but I slipped on the wet floor at the
hospital. The last thing I needed was to fucking twist this knee and can only
hope it was a small irritation and nothing else.

Mateo
grabs a soda and plops down in his favorite chair. “So, who do you think she
is?

I shrug.
“It can’t be Jesse’s replacement. She was here before he was hurt.”

“That
must be her red Audi in the parking lot,” he says. “Beautiful car for a
beautiful lady.”

“More
like a sexy car for a sexier lady.”

“She’d
still look better with me,” Mateo insists.

I know
he’s only trying to goad me because I didn’t respond last time. “In your
dreams.” I twist the top off the bottle and take a swig. “What do you think’s
going to happen to Jesse?” Jesse Tinley, one of the art teachers at Baxter, was
arrested this weekend, only four days ago. He was accused of having intimate
relations with a sixteen-year-old girl, then beat up in jail, which included
his right hand being crushed beneath the boot of a thug before being put in the
ICU. The girl recanted two days later, admitting she made the whole thing up.
We just got back from visiting him in the hospital, where I slipped on the wet
floor. He’s going to be okay, but it’s going to take a lot of time to heal and
I’m not even sure he’ll be able to sculpt again.

“I don’t
know, but at least he’s been cleared of any charges,” Mateo answers. “She has
no idea the world of hurt she could have caused Jesse. If she’d stuck to her
story, he could have gone to jail and then labeled as a sex offender after he
got out. It pisses me off.”

“This
coming from a youth therapist.” I laugh. “You deal with troubled kids every
day. Nothing should surprise you.”

“I know I
shouldn’t be pissed, but her making this shit up because she had some romantic
notion about Jesse is just fucking wrong.” He takes a drink and sets the can
down on the table. “I just hope she gets the help she needs because something
isn’t right and it needs to be fixed before it spirals further out of control.”
Mateo glances over at me. “They let me see the video of her by Jesse’s bed. She
needs help. A lot of it.” He’s shaking his head.

“Do you
think Jesse will be back at Baxter?” It’s a question I’ve been wondering about.

Mateo
shakes his head. “I doubt it. He may have been cleared, but people will always
wonder. I can’t imagine that Baxter wants that kind of speculation, especially
with the kids we deal with.”

“That
sucks,” I say before taking another swig of my beer. “I just hope it all works
out for him.” Even if he had a job to come back to, I doubt Jesse will be in
any condition for a long time. More surgeries are scheduled for the hand and
then intense therapy. I know what that’s like and wouldn’t wish it on my worst
enemy.

There’s a
tentative knock at the door and Mateo and I look at each other. I’m hoping it’s
the blonde coming for a visit, even though she can’t know which apartment is
ours. There are two on the first floor, two on the second and one in the former
attic.

Mateo
jumps up and opens it. It is her and my day just got better. She’s standing at
the threshold with a tentative smile.

“Well,
helllloooo?” Mateo greets her.

“I know
this is lame and cliché, but by chance, do you have a cup of milk?”

Ellen

I knew I
recognized them and it was confirmed as soon as I looked at the Baxter website
when I got to my apartment. Mateo Perez is a counselor and the blond hunk with
piercing blue eyes is the English teacher, Gabe Kent.

I can’t
believe my luck.  I thought I’d have to waste the rest of spring break finding
some kind of entertainment before I could begin my interviews at the school.
Even though the appointment isn’t until Monday, I wanted to get here a week
early and get settled. I just didn’t anticipate how small the town was and that
there’s hardly anything to do here. If I can get these two to talk I can begin
working on my story now.

“Sure,”
Mateo says, opening the door wider. Normally, I wouldn’t just go to a strange
man’s apartment, especially one containing two strange men, but since they work
at Baxter, I don’t feel overly threatened.

The
conversation I heard in the emergency department at Bellevue Hospital replays
in my head. Maybe this isn’t wise, but I have a school to investigate and a
story to write, and I’ve been in far more dangerous situations.

“Come
in,” Gabe says. “Want a beer, soda?”

I bite my
lip. Now’s my chance. “A beer would be nice. Thanks.”

Mateo
goes to the fridge and grabs a beer. “So, where did you come from, Ellen?” He
twists off the top and hands it to me.

“New
York.”

“Why are
you
here
?” Gabe asks in surprise.

I get it.
This is a small, quaint town, from what I’ve seen of it. The complete opposite
of New York City. “I’m working on a story and this seemed like a good place to
be.”

“Have a
seat,” Mateo says as he hands me the beer.

There’s
one chair and a couch where Gabe is sitting. As he’s more in the center than on
one end, I sit in the chair because I don’t want to jostle his injured knee.

“So,
you’re an author.” Mateo grins. “What do you write?”

It’s on
the tip of my tongue to lie, but I don’t. This one is too easy to confirm, but
I hope it doesn’t put them off. “More of a journalist.”

Gabe
frowns and takes a swig of his beer.

“What newspaper,
or is it a magazine?” Mateo asks.

“Neither,”
I admit. “I thought I wanted to work for a major newspaper but quickly learned
after an internship that I wasn’t cut out for working for big companies. I
don’t like being told what to do and what to write.” That’s why I started my
blog. It was the only thing I could think of to use my investigative reporting
degree for the purpose I got it in the first place. I have scores to settle and
people to save. Newspapers and magazines may report on politics, but they have
a whole political system of their own that I don’t want any part of. It’s the
same with any corporation. You can only rise as far as you’re willing to kiss
ass, and I don’t kiss anyone’s ass. “I do freelance work sometimes.” Which is
the truth. I just don’t do it real often. I shrug. “And, I have a blog.” They
don’t need to know that the blog is my job, and my purpose in life. And my
current assignment, which I gave to myself as soon as it came on my radar, was
to investigate the Baxter Academy of Arts. Not that these two need to know
that, just yet.

Mateo’s
phone beeps and he pulls it out of his pocket and answers.

“Okay,
got it. Be there in a bit.”

He hangs
up and puts it back in his pocket as he stands. “Mag needs me. Gotta go.”

Gabe
simply nods.

If I
hadn’t researched Baxter, I’d assume Mag is a friend or something, but Mag is
an Administrator of some sort at Baxter. Why would she need Mateo during Spring
Break?