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One
WILLOW DAVENPORT
“We’ve got a new volunteer coming in this week,” Francine states, walking into the tiny office we share in the rundown community center. We are weeks away from breaking ground on the new community center we’ve been trying to make happen for the last three years.
“Now, when you say volunteer…” I trail off, watching as she plants herself in the only other chair, which is the metal kind you can fold.
“I mean a court-ordered-here-against-my-will kind of volunteer.” She hands me a crisp folder, sent over via courier from the court building.
“Oh, great, my favorite kind.” The words come out robot-like, as I try to summon any hint of optimism in the situation. “I don’t understand how helping the community is used as punishment.”
“I think it’s supposed to teach the offender to stop shitting on the community they live in. Maybe inspire them to do better. To be better.” Franny crosses her legs and places her clipboard on her lap.
“If only it did that,” I murmur, thinking about all the repeat offenders we’ve seen come and go through the doors of this building. I open the folder and read the name of our next volunteer.
Maverik Steele.
Hollywood heartthrob, party boy and self-proclaimed panty-thief.
My heart seizes in my chest, and anxiety seeps into my bones, making my limbs feel rubbery. This can’t be. Not him.
“No freaking way,” I breathe, unable to believe my eyes and praying there’s been a mistake.
“Who is it?”
I close the folder and hold it out to Franny. She takes it, gasping when she sees the name.
“Well, I’ll be, if it ain’t the newest Hollywood heartthrob.” Franny clucks her tongue, her wide eyes running up and down the information page. “Why in the hell would they assign him here? He doesn’t live anywhere in this neck of the woods.”
“I don’t know,” I answer, picking up my phone to place a call with the court clerk because there’s no way this is right. “I’ll call down there and find out what is going on.”
“Damn, is this really his personal cell phone number?” Franny asks, and I see the wheels turning in her head. It would go for a pretty penny on the street, especially in today’s world of scammers. Francine was, once upon a time, an offender, but she’s also one of the rare ones who found a purpose in the time spent within these walls.
“Don’t even think about it,” I chuckle because the thought is tempting, but my reasons would be for something unrelated. I finish dialing the number to the clerk’s office, but it goes to a full voicemail box. Checking the time on my watch, I groan. It’s after five on Friday, meaning the entire building has gone home for the weekend. “Damn it.”
“Woah,” Franny looks up in shock. “Did you just… swear?”
“I would never,” I reply coolly, ignoring the panic setting in. “Looks like I’m going to need that number. I’ll let Mr. Steele know of the court’s mistake of assigning him here. Maybe his lawyer has a contact they can use to fix everything by Monday.”
“Wait…” Franny frowns before shaking her head. “You don’t think he chose this location, do you?”
“Why would he choose here? It’s an hour commute for him,” I explain knowingly, because until eighteen months ago, I was making the drive from my parents’ home in Beverly Hills.
“Davenport.”
“What?”
“You’re last name. Maybe he thinks there’s a connection.”
Crap on a cracker. I hadn’t thought of that.
“Did he attend that fancy gala your pops hosted for the center last year?”
Of course, she’s referring to the charity event my parents hosted to help raise money for the new community center. Arthur Davenport, my father, owns a prominent production company, and he knows many people with money to donate to places like Kingman Heights. My parents have always been supportive of my work. It was a simple decision when they offered to help raise the money.
I close my eyes and drag in a deep breath, as the memories from that night prickle in the back of my mind. Memories I’ve refused to think about, locking them away in a stone box and tucking that box in the darkest part of my mind. But now the lock is open, and the box is threatening to burst open.
My father’s insistence I meet Maverik…
