water streaming off her body and lilac scented suds rising from her loofah. Her hair hung in a long sheet down her back, filled with the scent of lavender and honey. Despite all of that she could still smell Blake on her flesh, and over that there was another set of smells: cheap hamburger meat and marijuana, vodka and cigarettes.
The smells of her childhood.
Looking back as an adult Jenna knew that none of it had really been her fault. Her entire family was made up of thieves, whore, pimps and hustlers. They had a network of others just as bad, and visits to her cousins usually entailed long nights spent boasting of the money they had made, the schemes they had helped to carry out and the even bigger things their respective parents were planning.
Jenna had been taught that lying was not only necessary but a good thing, all of her cousins and siblings practiced that art on each other and their parents and everyone else that came across their path. They were commended when they lied well enough to fool a parent—the biggest reward given was a trip to a Dairy Queen for a hot fudge sundae and Jenna had craved ice cream, mostly because most of her meals were made up of stale potato chips, unheated cans of ravioli or beefaroni or spaghetti, and jerky—all things that were cheap and fast. She had needed something sweet, and not just because of the food she was given but because her life had so little sweetness to it.
Like all children she had needed love and affection and the only way the grownups around her gave it to her was if she did well. The first time her mother had told her she loved her was after Jenna managed to lift a purse from a cafeteria counter and get away with it. Her father had told her he loved her as he was leaving her behind—running out on her and leaving her to take the blame for the drugs he had been holding.
That had been the charge that had landed her in juvie for three years. The first few months that she had been there had been hell, a hell she was not able to withstand. Then a miracle showed up, in the form of a tough and fast talking woman whose past was as checkered as Jenna’s, but who had learned how to make something of herself anyway.
Leslie Koppel had been a teacher at the facility and she had seen something in Jenna, and had nurtured it when Jenna herself had not wanted to, or known where to begin. They had slowly began to like each other, and Jenna had begun to trust the older woman enough to listen to her and to begin to think of a life after juvie, a life away from her family and its criminal proclivities.
Turning off the shower she got out and went into her bedroom to put on a pair of pajamas before going to the kitchen to make some green tea. She could not stop thinking about Blake, and her family, and the two things made her feel both depressed and angry. She had work to do and plenty of it yet there she was, mooning over her past and a man she had no future with.
Maybe that was what wrong, she thought as she put her cup in the microwave and set it. Maybe she was starting to worry about her life because she was getting older and she spent far too much time working and far too little time playing. Maybe she was starting to hear the ticking of her biological clock or something.
She took her tea and went to bed. Five am came early, and she knew it but still she lay awake, her mind reliving every moment of the encounter she had shared with Blake in her office.
* * * *
“Put that gun by his body, and make sure you get the position of it right because this is going to matter when Internal Affairs comes down on us.”
Blake looked over at Kevin; sure he had not heard him correctly. He looked at the body of the man at his feet and then back at his partner. “He did not have a gun.”
“No, but he does now. Dammit Lewis do it!”
Kevin had been his partner for a decade, and longer. They had joined the Army together at eighteen, doing their duty to their country in a three year
The smells of her childhood.
Looking back as an adult Jenna knew that none of it had really been her fault. Her entire family was made up of thieves, whore, pimps and hustlers. They had a network of others just as bad, and visits to her cousins usually entailed long nights spent boasting of the money they had made, the schemes they had helped to carry out and the even bigger things their respective parents were planning.
Jenna had been taught that lying was not only necessary but a good thing, all of her cousins and siblings practiced that art on each other and their parents and everyone else that came across their path. They were commended when they lied well enough to fool a parent—the biggest reward given was a trip to a Dairy Queen for a hot fudge sundae and Jenna had craved ice cream, mostly because most of her meals were made up of stale potato chips, unheated cans of ravioli or beefaroni or spaghetti, and jerky—all things that were cheap and fast. She had needed something sweet, and not just because of the food she was given but because her life had so little sweetness to it.
Like all children she had needed love and affection and the only way the grownups around her gave it to her was if she did well. The first time her mother had told her she loved her was after Jenna managed to lift a purse from a cafeteria counter and get away with it. Her father had told her he loved her as he was leaving her behind—running out on her and leaving her to take the blame for the drugs he had been holding.
That had been the charge that had landed her in juvie for three years. The first few months that she had been there had been hell, a hell she was not able to withstand. Then a miracle showed up, in the form of a tough and fast talking woman whose past was as checkered as Jenna’s, but who had learned how to make something of herself anyway.
Leslie Koppel had been a teacher at the facility and she had seen something in Jenna, and had nurtured it when Jenna herself had not wanted to, or known where to begin. They had slowly began to like each other, and Jenna had begun to trust the older woman enough to listen to her and to begin to think of a life after juvie, a life away from her family and its criminal proclivities.
Turning off the shower she got out and went into her bedroom to put on a pair of pajamas before going to the kitchen to make some green tea. She could not stop thinking about Blake, and her family, and the two things made her feel both depressed and angry. She had work to do and plenty of it yet there she was, mooning over her past and a man she had no future with.
Maybe that was what wrong, she thought as she put her cup in the microwave and set it. Maybe she was starting to worry about her life because she was getting older and she spent far too much time working and far too little time playing. Maybe she was starting to hear the ticking of her biological clock or something.
She took her tea and went to bed. Five am came early, and she knew it but still she lay awake, her mind reliving every moment of the encounter she had shared with Blake in her office.
* * * *
“Put that gun by his body, and make sure you get the position of it right because this is going to matter when Internal Affairs comes down on us.”
Blake looked over at Kevin; sure he had not heard him correctly. He looked at the body of the man at his feet and then back at his partner. “He did not have a gun.”
“No, but he does now. Dammit Lewis do it!”
Kevin had been his partner for a decade, and longer. They had joined the Army together at eighteen, doing their duty to their country in a three year
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