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By the afternoon, Keaton and Brenda were tired of her. Basketball, video games, and board games only went so far to keep teenage minds busy, and they were ready to mingle with their own again. Harry yawned and stretched, then got out of her chair and walked toward Sanura's office. She stopped herself right outside the hallway.
What are you thinking? She turned on her heel. No matter how much she wanted to spend time getting to know the seductive, educated woman, she knew it would end one of two ways. Either Sanura wouldn't be interested, or she would, and if she was, they would end up sleeping together. It wasn't on Harry's To Do list to sleep around while she was trying to figure out what to do with her pseudo-girlfriend situation.
She hadn't meant for Busy to think they were exclusive, though if she was honest with herself, they had been for nearly a full month. To most people, a month was nothing, but to two hard-working lesbians over 21, a month was a long courtship. Busy was ready to change everything that Harry had worked so hard to achieve in her life. Harry had already cost herself a good job. She wouldn't take back saving the life of Ruby Isles, or arresting the men responsible for her kidnapping and torture, but it stung that her off-kilter methods had taken so much from her. She didn't want everything else to change, too.
Harry walked to David's office and knocked on the half-shut door. She could hear him mumbling into the phone quietly, and when she knocked, he stopped and brought his voice back up to normal.
"Let me call you back," he said, and hung up the phone. "Come in," he called.
Harry walked in and David asked her to sit. "You must be slammed."
David took off his glasses and cleaned them on his shirt, avoiding her eyes. He cleared his throat, and his Adam’s apple worked overtime. "Yeah, you have no idea. Trying to get donations into this place is almost a lost cause. Homeless youth cause themselves as many problems as society does, because they make themselves look like a nuisance to be gotten rid of, not a bunch of kids without support from their families. Break-ins, drugs, prostitution, vandalism... Take those angry teenage years everyone experiences, and turn the dial up to the danger zone, and you've got these... kids." He put his glasses back on, smiled weakly, and finally made eye contact with her. "What can I do for you?"
"How else can I help? I'm trying to build some sort of relationship with these kids, but it's slow going. I think I have a few on board for art projects, though, so if you want to have some supplies out tomorrow..."
David groaned and dropped his head to his desk. "Supplies. I knew I was forgetting something."
"I could get them out tomorrow if you just tell me where they're kept."
David pulled his keyboard onto his lap and started typing slowly and methodically. He dropped the keyboard back onto his desk with a thump, then leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. "As far as I can tell, we don't have any left. Probably a box of crayons and a couple of coloring books somewhere, because these kids have all seen too much to be caught doing something so juvenile."
Harry stood. "You need donations."
"We need donations. And more volunteers." He bounced back in the chair, but didn’t stand up to walk her out.
Harry reached across the desk to shake his hand. She was shocked again at how clammy his palms were, and made an effort not to wipe her hand off on her jeans when they had finished. "Let me see what I can do."
Outside David's office, she pulled out her cell phone and started going through her contacts list. The precinct might be willing to run some kind of donation drive, she thought, but that would take a while to organize. She put the idea on the back burner. Cal and Cynthia were too strapped for cash trying to save his paycheck and live off her small server salary while he found a new calling, but he might get a couple of hours out of them for volunteer time. No, she needed bigger fish.
Aisling Neuman. The last time Harry had seen her had been at Aisling’s sister's funeral. There had only been a few mourners present, but every one of them had recognized her face. Dancers from Wet, the strip club frequented by her twin, Lee Barsten, had been there in surprisingly sterile form. Harry had chided herself for thinking they would be in skimpy clothes just because of their job description, and made a point to give them each her condolences as they left.
Every eye had soon turned from the familiar face of Aisling to the woman beside her. Ruby Isles, tissue in hand, had been right up front, clad in a tailored black dress that showed just how much weight she had lost on the run from her sadistic ex-husband and his slimy friends. Her short hair had been dyed back to its natural shade of medium brown, and she had covered her remaining bruises with makeup that left only a shadow of her abuse visible. After it was all over, she and Aisling had walked together to speak to Harry.
"Thank you for everything you did for us," Ruby had said, then broke down and leaned into Aisling's jacketed shoulder.
For her part, Aisling had been strong. She stood, her suit a beautiful shade of charcoal gray amidst the sea of black around her, silent tears running down her face that barely reddened the rims of eyes that were such a dark shade of brown they might as well have been black. Losing a sibling would hurt anyone, but losing the twin sister you never knew had to be devastating, Harry thought. For Aisling to be stoic at a time when most would be distraught had told Harry a lot about the well-groomed woman's character.
"You finished what Lee couldn't," she told Harry. "You saved the woman she loved, and put those scumbags behind bars where they belong. I owe you."
"We both do," Ruby said, her eyes puffy and shot through with bright red from crying. "If you ever need anything..."
Harry had tried to wave it off, but Aisling had caught her eye. "If you ever need anything at all, call me."
"Call us," Ruby had finished, and linked her arm with Aisling's.
It hadn't been long enough for them to mourn their lost loved one, but Harry knew they had been sincere in offering a free favor. She dialed Aisling's number.
She answered on the second ring. "This is Ash."
"Aisling Neuman?"
"The very one. Detective, how are you?" She didn't miss a beat. Harry could tell, even over the phone, that she was smirking. The separated sisters were a lot alike.
"Not a detective anymore, at least for now, but that's not why I'm calling." She hadn't really thought it through before she called, and now she cursed herself for failing to go over the request in her mind before she dialed. Too ready to jump into action without thinking, she heard Briggs’ voice chide in her head.
"Is there something I can do for you?" Ash prompted.
Harry pulled the phone away from her face for a moment to let out a breath, then pulled it back to speak in what she hoped was a cheerful tone. "I was wondering if I could call in that favor."
The silence on the line spoke volumes, and just as Harry was opening her mouth to say never mind, Ash spoke. "Of course. Anything you need."
"It's a two-fold request," Harry said, and launched into the story of coming to the shelter, the same shelter that once was all a younger Lee Barsten had for a home, and what was required to keep the place running. She talked for almost a two-minute block. When she was done, she took a deep breath, and asked, "Is that something you would be interested in?"
"I'll be there tomorrow morning," Ash answered. "What's the address?"
She gave her the information, they said their goodbyes, and Harry hung up the phone, unable to believe her luck. She was still staring at the face on the phone that looked so much like Lee Barsten when she felt a presence close behind her. She whirled around and stopped herself just in time from striking Sanura Johnson.
She didn’t flinch. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you," Sanura said. "I was just on my way to an appointment across town, and thought I would check in." She looked Harry up and down as she was wont to do. She took her time, her eyes lingering, until she got to Harry's face. "Good news?"
Harry nodded, feeling suddenly oafish and stupid. "I think I got a donor and volunteer all in one."
Sanura stepped forward so close that Harry could smell the spiced rum cider on her breath, then reached a hand up, brushing against Harry's chest as it passed, and straightened Harry's collar. "You certainly are handy, aren't you?"
Before Harry could respond, the counselor turned and walked across the open area toward the front door. She pulled the door closed behind her, but not before Harry got an eye full of her luscious figure; next to wiry, muscled Harry, Sanura's thick physique was gluttonous with sensuality. Heat built in Harry’s chest. She turned and walked out of the hallway, through the large open area in the front, and toward the door. She waved her goodbye to Keaton and Brenda as she left. She knew she had to do something about Busy before she inevitably tried to take Sanura Johnson to bed. She deserved at least to be let off gently.
