Page 26 of Dancing in the Dark

Plus Archer’s heated stare. “Well?” He slaps his desk, too impatient to wait a single second longer. “What happened?”

“She asked to pick Mia up from school so they could spend a few hours together.” Don’t be jealous, dickhead. After the mother she had, don’t even fucking think about being jealous about her redo. My phone vibrates with an incoming text, so I drop my gaze and scan the screen.

I need you on the corner of Posen and 33rd this afternoon. Keep your badge and gun visible, but you don’t have to talk to anyone. Be there between 4 and 5, and there’s $5k in it for you. Stay until 6, and I’ll double it. Don’t get your panties in a twist, Detective. I’m not asking you to do anything illegal. It’s not even unethical. It’s just standing.

“So no ice-cream,” Archer rumbles. “Maybe we could head over to the George Stanley instead. Aubree had her first baby appointment this morning, so we could pile into Mayet’s office and get the gossip. Plus, it’s the morgue, and we’re homicide detectives, so Fabian won’t even get pissy about it.”

“Yeah.” I type out a fast “I’ll be there” and hit send, scoring myself another fat money injection that’ll come in damn handy when I want to send my baby to college. It’s not illegal to stand on a corner with my badge hanging around my neck. “Let’s go now.” I lock my phone and stand. “I have an hour to get all the gossip, then I’ve got somewhere else I need to be.”

“An hour?” He shoves his shiny black rock back into his pocket and pushes up with a frown. “You just said⁠—”

“Don’t be mad that my social life is more exciting than yours. I had a free block of time, now I don’t.” I step around my desk and clap him on the shoulder. “I understand you can’t relate. Not everyone can be the most popular guy on campus, bud.”

11

SERAPHINA

I sign in at the front office of Mia’s school and follow protocol, filling out a form that lets the state know someone other than her parent is picking her up. It’s not entirely necessary that I do this, since I could wait outside and let her walk to me. But… I don’t know. I want to follow the rules. I want to do everything exactly right, so I scribble my signature and the time I’ve arrived, then I smile for the receptionist and accept the small slip of paper with Mia’s smiling face right in the center.

Her name is below it.

Her classroom beneath that.

Turning on my heels with anticipation swelling in my veins, I head along the halls I’ve walked a few times already, however, this is a new school year, which means a new classroom for Mia, so I turn right where I used to turn left, and absorb the screeching, shrilling, formerly cringe-worthy ruckus of dozens of overexcited children at the end of their school day.

It wasn’t so long ago that I swore I never wanted children. I didn’t want to know them. Didn’t want to be near them. I certainly had no plans to get involved with a man who had one of his own, and I would’ve laughed at anyone who suggested I trade a free afternoon for hours with a five-year-old whose only two volumes are extremely loud, or extremely quiet.

Yet, here I am, willingly walking toward the piercing screeches of a bunch of children barely beyond their toddler years, and though there’s still a small, naïve voice living somewhere in the back of my psyche demanding I turn my ass around and leave, it silences again as I stop at Mia’s classroom door and peek through the small glass pane.

Our eyes lock, and my world makes sense once more.

“Fifi!” She screams so loud, her voice penetrates the door, the wall, even the blaring school bell playing through the hall speakers as the day officially comes to an end. Fearlessly, she scrambles onto her table, kicking things to the floor in her haste and taking off like a shot as she jumps from one desk to the next. She sprints across unstable surfaces with the agility only cats possess, then she dives off the desk closest to the door, tucks and rolls and pops up again until her face smooshes against the glass pane. “Fifi’s here!” Her racing breath fogs up the glass between us. A bit of booger joins it, I think. But I’m too much of a girl’s girl to point it out and embarrass her.

Mia’s teacher shakes her head, her lips curled with a good-natured grin. As parents crowd behind me and children spill from other classrooms, the woman I know as Mrs. Greene hooks an arm around Mia’s belly and un-glues her from her gravity-defying grip, then she steps back with a cackling, flailing little girl in her arms and pries the door open.

“Fiifiiiiiii!” The instant her feet touch the floor again, Mia gallops forward and monkeys her way up my legs. “Oh my gosh, it’s Fifi! I’m so happy!” She slams a noisy, slightly wet kiss to my cheek, then, throwing her arms around my neck, she squeezes and repeats, but quieter this time, “I’m so happy.”

This is why. This. Her.

How can anyone look into the eyes of a child who loves so freely and not crave more?

“I’m happy you’re happy, because I was coming to see if you’d like to spend your afternoon with me?” I bury my nose amongst her messy locks of hair and inhale the scent of sweat, dirt, and maybe a little glue. “I was supposed to be working for aaaaages more, but my boss changed the schedule at the last minute.”

“That scoundrel,” she grunts. “He’s always being a scoundrel.”

“Yeah, but that scoundrel gave me the rest of the day off. So I called your dad right away and asked if it would be alright if we could hang out.”

She pulls back and reveals slightly panicked eyes. “What did he say?”

I snicker. “He said it was absolutely, completely cool.”

“Yesssssss!” She throws her hands in the air and almost pitches herself clear out of my arms, but then her wild limbs collide with someone’s poor dad, so she drops them again and blushes. “Sorry!”

“Come on. Let’s get your things.” And move out of the doorway. I carry her in and set her on her feet halfway across the room. “Don’t forget your bag. Are these your pencils?” I stop by her desk and collect a rainbow stack of varying lengths. “Moo? Do these belong to you or to the classroom?”

“They’re mine. Daddy bought them for me.” She sprints to the hooks on the wall and snatches down her bag, then charging back again, she sweeps everything from her desk—pencil shavings and eraser crumbs included—into the open zipper. “Oh my gosh, my whole body is shivering, Fifi! My tummy feels funny, cos I’m so happy.” Throwing her head back, she announces, unapologetically loud, “Fifi picked me up today! Isn’t she the most beautiful?”

Amused, Mia’s bordering-on-middle-aged teacher wanders closer. “Hi. I’m Mrs. Greene. I wondered when I’d meet the infamous Fifi. Mia speaks very highly of you.”