The Do-Over (The Rooftop Crew Book 5) Read online

  I scoff, but Patrice is right. Leilani isn’t one for inhibitions, and she’s as comfortable with her sexuality as she is with her place in this world. I’d never met someone without any insecurities, and I always felt like I fell short. Because growing up poor as shit with people thinking you’re dumb as rocks leaves a mark. But I kept those parts of me hidden from Leilani and only showed her the strong personality people tend to expect from a police officer.

  “Anyway, I think we dated for, like, three months that first time. I guess maybe I wouldn’t even call it dating. More like one of us would call the other when we wanted to have sex. Then she left for some march or something in DC. Never returned. Came back six months later or so, and that time we actually started dating.” I shake my head, not wanting to relive this memory. “She came and went multiple times. The last time she stayed longer than she ever had before and I thought she’d settled down, but I was wrong.”

  “Man, you really screwed that up.” Patrice balls up her Snickers wrapper and tosses it in the trash can.

  I straighten in my chair and roll up to my desk. “She left me, not the other way around.”

  “I’m talking about the waitress. You should’ve dated her. She seems more your speed.”

  “Actually, wanna know something strange? Leilani came in that night to see the waitress, but in all the times I met her friends, I never saw that waitress again. That’s odd, right?”

  “Everything about the chick is odd,” Patrice says.

  Another good point. I can’t help but wonder whatever happened to that waitress and if she’s even still friends with Leilani.

  An hour later, we’ve finished our report on Leilani’s arrest and Patrice has gone home, but I pretend I have a million things to do just so I can find out what’s going to happen to Leilani. I shouldn’t give a shit, but I can’t help myself.

  I head to the men’s room only to see the giant yellow sign saying it’s closed.

  “Milliken clogged it again,” DuPont says as he passes by. “Hey, what’s going on with your girlfriend? Maybe they’ll let you fingerprint her.”

  “Damn Milliken,” I mutter, heading out to the lobby.

  As soon as I step through the door from the back, a woman rushes through the front doors of the station and over to our desk clerk, Mac. “My friend was arrested. I think she’s here. She called me and told me to come down.”

  My hand stills on the men’s bathroom door. I haven’t heard that voice in many years, but for whatever reason, I recognize it. It’s that waitress from the night I met Leilani.

  Instead of eavesdropping, I go into the bathroom, but the entire time I take a piss and wash my hands, my mind is on what’s happening on the other side of the doors. When I emerge, she’s still there. She turns as the men’s room door shuts, and our gazes meet.

  Damn, one thing I forgot was how beautiful she is. How did I forget that? Probably because Leilani’s like a hurricane and all you remember is how she careened into your life.

  “You,” she says, walking across the old linoleum to me. “You’re Leilani’s guy, no?”

  What lies has Leilani been spouting?

  “No.” I shake my head.

  Her hands raise and she squints one eye as she thinks of my name. Finally, her vision lands on my nameplate. “Whelan. Um…”

  “Knox.”

  She snaps her fingers. “Yes. So are you going to help her?”

  “No.”

  Her shoulders fall. “Why not? She called me and said she’d probably need bail money.”

  “Do you know what she did?”

  “She said she didn’t do anything. That it’s all a misunderstanding.”

  I laugh. “The desk clerk can help you.” I slide by her to disappear into the back, but before I open the door, I turn around to give the girl some advice. “I wouldn’t bail her out. You’ll never see that money again.”

  She tucks her long dark hair behind her ears. She’s wearing yoga pants and a waist-length, tight-fitting sweatshirt that shows off her curves. This woman looks better than good, but she also has another look about her. The one that says, “I’m the savior, the helper, the mother hen of all my friends.”

  “She’s innocent. She said she was.”

  “I wouldn’t believe her.”

  Mac’s head swivels in my direction. “Whelan, I’ve got this.”

  I raise my hands. “By all means.” I square my gaze on the waitress one last time. “You might as well take that money and rip it into shreds right here. She’s never going to change.”

  Her dark eyes narrow and she glances at Mac before stomping over to me. She pokes her finger into my chest. “What is your problem? Are you always such an asshole?”

  I’ll make this easy on both of us. “Yes.”

  I open the door and leave her behind like the first time I met her.

  Chapter Three

  Kamea

  Leilani comes out of the police station mid-afternoon and falls into me, wrapping me in a hug. “Thank you so much, Kam. I can’t believe my ex-boyfriend arrested me. I mean seriously, right?”

  “Yeah, the guy’s an asshole. I ran into him in the lobby.”

  “He’s a different person at work.” She waves off the topic of her ex. “Mind if we grab some food? I’m starved.”

  How can she be worried about eating? She was just arrested. “Leilani, what’s happening? Do you need a lawyer?”

  I don’t want to be insensitive, but I want to ask her when she plans on paying me back like she said she would during her one phone call. She called me out of the blue two nights ago, asking for a place to stay. Then she showed up with two men in tow. Who knows when their brilliant plan to shoot paintballs at women wearing fur coats while coming out of the country club came to mind. Though the idea probably came from when they met me at the country club on my last day of work before it closed for six months for renovations.

  “No. They have no proof. It’s all circumstantial.”

  “What about Wade and Paul? Did they get caught too?”

  She glances back at the police station and clings to my arm tighter, turning us around the corner. “No, and you can’t tell anyone that we were planning on doing it, okay?”

  “I don’t want to be involved in this.” I really should’ve listened to my gut two nights ago when she called. What was I thinking? I was thinking I owed her.

  I sure regret that decision now. Especially since things with Leilani always end disastrously. I don’t have enough fingers to count how many times I’ve been uncomfortable with her ideas of fun. She’s a do-good girl fighting for climate control, animal rights, and many causes I hold dear to my heart too, but I don’t point a paintball gun at the people who disagree.

  “Did you hear about the guy?” She snickers. “He ended up in the hospital. His balls are like melons.” She leans forward, giggling as if she can hardly contain herself.

  And again, I wonder how I got here. How I just spent the money I saved over two years for my T-shirt company on a bulk order to send to the screen-printer. Now it’s in the government’s bank account until she shows up to court for her hearing. And I don’t even have my part time job at the country club anymore to subsidize my T-shirt endeavor.

  “When do you see the judge again?” I ask as she opens the door of Los Tacos.

  “Can we please talk about this after we eat? The food is shit in there. I couldn’t even force myself to eat it.” She tells the hostess that there’s only two of us and soon we’re seated. “Hey, you don’t mind spotting me for lunch, do you?”

  “Leilani, I love you, but—”

  “You’re the best. Thanks.” She picks up her menu and looks it over. “I promise I’ll pay you back.”

  “Hey.” I put my finger on the edge of the menu and push it down so I can see her face. “I need the money I posted for your bail. Remember last night before your escapade when you came into my room, asking what I was doing? Remember the T-shirt company I run? Remember all
the cute sayings we came up with?”

  “Oh yeah, that was fun. I miss times like that with you.” Her hand extends over the free chips and salsa, and she pats my arm.

  “Yeah, and I can’t place my bulk T-shirt order unless I have the money that I just used for your bail.”

  She places her menu down and takes a chip, dipping it in the salsa. “Don’t even worry about it. Wade owes me money. And after me taking the blame, he’ll pay you back.”

  The waitress comes over and we order.

  “Okay, because—”

  “I said I’ve got you. What? You don’t trust me?” She looks deeply offended.

  My face heats for questioning her, guilt weighing heavy on my shoulders. “No, I do. It’s just—”

  “Then can we please talk about how my ex-boyfriend—the guy who begged me to marry him—arrested me this morning? How could he do that?” She dips a chip, this time bowling the salsa inside her chip. The waitress brings over her margarita. “Oh, you’re an angel.”

  Leilani wastes no time putting her lips over the small straw and sucking in so much, I’m surprised the cup isn’t dry once she’s finished.

  “He proposed to you?” This is the first I’m hearing of this.

  I’d never bring this up to Leilani, but years ago when she first met Knox, I’d thought maybe I’d be going home with him that night. But just like every guy we went to high school with, as soon as he saw Leilani, I was old news. A crazy “I’m up for anything and live on the edge” kind of girl is hard for most guys to resist.

  She nods while chewing a chip. “How did he ever think I’d wanna be married? I mean, I like the guy but…”

  “Like? Didn’t you date him for a long time?”

  She shrugs, and I decide I don’t really want to talk about Knox or her relationship with him. The whole situation reminds me of that night we first met him and brings my insecurities to the surface.

  Without giving her an opportunity to answer—from the way she’s shoving chips in her mouth, she didn’t plan on responding to my question anyway—I return to my original question. “When is your court date?”

  Her lips purse. “I think next month or something.”

  I roll my eyes as the waitress brings over our meals. “Do you think your parents could pay me the money back?”

  She stops the fork filled with enchilada from entering her mouth and gives me the death stare of all death stares. I’m sure she’s wondering how I could suggest involving her parents.

  “I need the money,” I say, almost pleading. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I’ve been saving for two years for this opportunity.”

  “Is this the T-shirt thing again? I mean, come on. Are you really going to make a living selling a few T-shirts?”

  She has no idea how much I’ve been selling with print-on-demand, but to get my cost per unit down and get orders out faster, I have to be in control of my inventory. And for that to happen, I have to have the actual shirts.

  I push away my tacos and grab my water. My appetite’s gone sour now. “I get that you’re willing to just live out of a suitcase, but I’m not.”

  She wipes her mouth and looks into her lap for a moment. “Kam, I totally appreciate you fronting the money. I’d never expect you to go without. I’ll talk to Wade and get it for you. Don’t worry. And I live out of a suitcase because I choose to. I’m always up for anything.”

  I nod because I get it. Guilt still lives inside me over what caused her to run away in the first place, but I think she enjoys her life now. No strings, no complications.

  We finish eating, me more picking while Leilani cleans her plate. I pay the check and her attitude does a one-eighty as she thanks me profusely. It isn’t until we’re outside my small studio apartment in the neighboring town of Peekskil that the real ramifications of Leilani coming back into my life hits me.

  “You can’t just kick her out,” Leilani screams at my landlord as I stare at all my belongings sitting on the sidewalk outside my building. If it weren’t a furnished apartment I was renting, would my couch and mattress be out here too?

  “Can and did. She violated the lease and the property owner doesn’t give second chances.” She crosses her arms over her large chest.

  “A noise complaint?” Leilani asks. “Come on.”

  Wade and Paul stand on the corner, smoking cigarettes and looking completely unfazed that they got me kicked out of my apartment.

  According to Sally, my building manager—who I thought had my back—Paul and Wade had an afternoon party, and Paul and his other delinquent buddies decided to skateboard down the handrails of the stairway, one of them falling right through the glass-paned door.

  I run my hand down my face. “Sally, you know it wasn’t me.”

  “You’re just a spiteful bitch!” Leilani screams.

  I put my hands on her shoulders and shove her toward Wade and Paul. She goes reluctantly, spitting out more names at Sally.

  Sally’s a hard nut and it took me at least six months before she even gave me more than a nod when we ran into one another. Over the two years I’ve lived here, I thought we had established a mutual respect for one another.

  “I’m sorry. They’re gone, and I won’t allow them to come back,” I say.

  Sally looks down the sidewalk toward them and shakes her head. “I wish I could give you a second chance, but Mr. Henderson already wanted to call the police. This is a quiet building, Kamea, and I can’t afford to lose this managerial position. It’s out of my hands.”

  She means the situation has already been addressed by the owner of the property, Dick Jagoff, otherwise known as Richard Geoff. The man is a complete narcissist with no empathy. I called once to say I would be late with the rent but that I’d have it in two days. He put an eviction sticker on my door. According to him, it was his way of embarrassing me into never being late with my rent again. He’s a bully in a velvet tracksuit. I could fight this, I’m sure he’s violated my lease himself not giving me any notice before evicting me but that all takes time and money—neither of which I have.

  “If you want to keep your stuff at my place until you find somewhere permanent”—she looks around as though Dick will turn the corner any minute—“you can.”

  I look at my television. I don’t have a ton of stuff, but enough that I can’t transport it by myself.

  “Thanks. I appreciate that. I’ll stay with a friend, but as soon as I land a new place, I’ll grab everything.”

  Glancing over my shoulder at Leilani and the guys, I see the corner where they were standing is now vacant. I sigh and collect everything but a suitcase that Sally packed for me with all my clothes, and my laptop bag. I’d pawn it for money if I didn’t need it for the T-shirt business.

  After I load all of my belongings into Sally’s apartment, I say, “Thanks again.”

  She nods and touches my upper arm. “That girl is bad news. You need to cut ties because she’s only gonna drag you down.”

  I offer a smile because her heart is in the right place. It’s not the first time I’ve heard that about Leilani, but she’s my friend. And she saved me once. Maybe I’m trying to repay her by saving her in turn. I’m also aware that I’m the reason she ran to begin with. If it hadn’t been for that horrible night, she might not be who she is now.

  “I’ll be in touch.”

  Sally scowls and shakes her head as though I didn’t really hear her warning.

  With my suitcase heavy in my hand and my laptop bag swung over my shoulder, I walk toward the corner where Leilani was. I need that money from Wade now more than I did an hour ago. He owes me for getting me evicted.

  But I don’t see the three of them anywhere nearby. I pull my phone out of my purse and dial Leilani’s number, but it goes to voicemail after only one ring. Maybe it’s dead. I leave a message for her to call me as soon as she gets it.

  Realizing I can’t stand here forever, I dial up my only other friend, who happens to be my b
oss from the country club. A train ride later, I’m back in Cliffton Heights and my boss, Chris, is waiting for me with his four boys running on the sidewalk, trying to beat the train.

  “It’ll only be one night,” I grumble.

  He nods. “Didn’t think I’d see you until the spring when the renovations are complete.” He smiles. “And don’t worry about it. You can stay as long as you need to.”

  “Thanks.”

  One of the boys jumps on my back and another attaches to my leg. Another one can’t stop telling me about the booger he just pulled out of his nose before I arrived.

  When will I ever learn my lesson when it comes to Leilani?

  Chapter Four

  Knox

  I walk out of the locker room and into the station at the start of my shift, cracking my neck back and forth, shutting and opening my eyes. This overnight shift is kicking my ass lately and just another reminder why I want that detective position.

  Patrice is already at her desk. We’ll have to go into the call room in five minutes, but I sit down anyway. Leilani’s mugshot is taped to my computer with a big heart drawn in red Sharpie around her face. I tear off the photo and throw it in the trash. Surprisingly, Patrice says nothing.

  “Fucking hell,” I say.

  “You know that’s not the last of it?” Patrice says.

  “I know.” I run my hands down my face.

  Having Leilani show up here two days ago has spurred a clusterfuck in my brain, but it’s also solidified that I’m done with her for good. A reckless person who would go after someone with a paint gun just because the woman wore a fur coat is not the woman for me, among other reasons.

  Although I’d prefer to be getting a good night’s sleep, at least I’m processing how different we are.

  Patrice stands, tucks in her chair, and the two of us head to the call room before we’ll head out to the squad cars. The captain talks about the two male suspects who have yet to be picked up from the Bruce Floyd attack. Apparently, Floyd wants their heads on a platter. A man like Bruce Floyd is used to getting what he wants when he wants it, and I’m sure the captain is getting a shit-ton of pressure to get it done. I’m not sure I ever want to get that high up the ranks.