Her Leading Man (31 page)

“
I do,” the other woman said. “I
adv’cate
violence.
An’ hitting ‘em, too. Bastards.” She subsided,
grumbling,
into a corner, and Christina lost sight of her
when she slid to the
floor.

Christina shook her head, feeling a combination
of revulsion and
pity for the woman How awful it
must be to have such a desperate addiction
to spirits.
Christina took a drink every now and then, but
she didn’t crave the
stuff as some folks did. Thank
heaven.

The jingle of keys and a heavy tread announced
the approach of a
uniformed minion. What did one
call them, anyway? Wardens? Guards?
Keepers?
Trusties? Christina rubbed her eyes, which felt
gritty
and
sore. She hadn’t slept much the night before. Jailhouse
accommodations
weren’t what she was accustomed
to. She supposed that indicated how soft
her
life had
been.

Even so, she didn’t think she could ever get used
to living as a
lawbreaker. It was too blasted uncomfortable
and—she’d never admit this to
Gran—frightening.
Being arrested, booked, and thrown into the
stammer was not
Christina’s idea of a fun way to
spend one’s weekend.

“
Mayhew.” The guard—or whatever he was—called
out
the name in a bored-sounding voice.
Christina jumped up from her
cot
.
Gran rose more
slowly, her joints creaking so loudly
Christina
could
hear them from across the crowded cell. At once she
felt a stab of
compunction for
having chided Gran
for hitting the policeman. She had to keep in
mind
that
Gran was an old
woman.

Not, of course, that being old excused her
outrageous
conduct. Still and all, Gran deserved a measure
of respect even if
she didn’t act with particular decorum
sometimes. Or even most of the
time.

“
Mayhew,” the person said again, this time
sounding
annoyed.
Christina didn’t know what she was supposed to
do, so she called
out, “Here,” as if she were in grade
school.

It worked. The guard squinted into the room full
of women and said,
“Visitor. Come this way.”

A visitor? Who could it be? Her heart screamed
out for Martin, and
she hoped it was he, but she
wouldn’t have blamed him if he dropped all
association
with her now that she was a convict. She went
to her grandmother
and took the older woman’s arm.
Since Christina was a beloved relative,
unlike yesterday’s
policeman, she could get away with offering
Gran assistance.
Which was absurd, but that was
Gran, and there was no use in fighting
facts
.

“
Who is
it?” Gran asked sharply.

Irked by this whole outlandish episode, Christina
snapped, “How the
devil should I know?” Then she
felt even guiltier than she had before. But blast
it,
she was
too tired, miserable, and uncomfortable to
be polite.

Gran chuckled. That figured. The mean old crone
liked anyone who
stood up to her. Christina sighed
heavily. She’d be so happy to get out of
here. She’d
be even happier to take a bath. Jails smelled awful.
At least this one
did. Christina assumed it was representative
of the species, and that the
foul odor was
the result of years’ worth of filth and
disinfectant.
And despair. Christina could swear she smelled
despair
in
the atmosphere.

When she spotted a man standing some way down
the grim, desolate
corridor, glancing around apprehensively
and trying not to get too close to
the barred
cages lining the hall, she didn’t know who he was.
She’d been hoping
for Martin, but this man had dark
hair, dark eyebrows, and a dark
complexion.

She did a double take when she saw his
white teeth
appear in a smile so familiar
that it made her heart
hitch. She cried, “Martin!”

It was
he!
She’d forgotten he’d had to dye
his
hair and
eyebrows in order to take over Pablo’s part.

“
Good God, is that Martin Tafft?” Gran’s
voice
sounded both incredulous and supercilious. “He looks
a pure fool like
that.”

Christina was not surprised by her grandmother’s
lack of tact or
appreciation. Gran spent her
whole
life tying to behave
badly; she was so good at it
by this time, she didn’t even need to practice
any
longer.

Overjoyed to see him, Christina took an impulsive
step toward
him
.
The guard yanked her back. “Hold
on, young lady.
You’re not out of here yet.”

“
Christina!” Martin, too, stepped forward and
then
halted, aware that they were both under
police-induced
constraints.

Although she felt like crying—indeed, her throat
was tight and her
eyes burned—Christina didn’t. She
wouldn’t break down in front of her
grandmother.
She’d never live it down if she cried. Besides,
Christina owed it to
the Mayhew name to be dignified
under all circumstances and conditions.
Even if
she
did experience a despicable and nearly overwhelming
impulse to rush down
the hall and throw
herself into Martin’s arms and cry until she was as
weak as a rag doll.
She was
so
glad to see him
.

“
How good of you to come for us, Martin.”
She
was amazed at how cool and collected she sounded.
She wanted to whoop
and scream.

“
Yes,
Mr. Tafft. Thank you.”

Both Christina and Martin stared at Gran, who
glowered back at
them. Christina had never heard her
grandmother sound so gracious.

“
Don’t thank me yet,” Martin said after
gathering
his wits together. “I don’t know if I can get you
out
today or
if you’ll have to wait until Monday
.
”

Oh, no. Christina’s heart gave such a powerful
lunge, it hurt.
Salvaging the remaining
shreds of her
composure, she said, “Oh?” Then, because it was
true
and
because it
wasn’t really much of a sniveling thing
to say—after all, who would want
to remain
languishing in prison?—she said, “I hope we can get out
today?

Gran looked at her keenly for a moment, then nodded,
and Christina felt
as though she’d passed some
crucial Mayhew character test. She didn’t reach
for
Martin
when they met in the hall, and he didn’t reach
for her. She wondered if that
indicated he was disgusted
with her, and a remnant of yesterday’s
indignation
bolstered her courage.

Straightening, she said, “Thank you for coming for
us, Martin. I’m
sorry you had to come to this awful
place.”

“
For heaven’s sake, Christina. I couldn’t leave
you
in
the clink once I got your telegram.”

Had he sounded angry? Considering his tone for
a moment, Christina
decided he’d sounded rather
more bewildered than angry. She took that as
an
encouraging
sign.

“
If the government of the United States would
stop
shilly-shallying and give women the same rights
guaranteed
to
men, things like this wouldn’t happen.”

Martin glanced down at Gran. He appeared resigned.
Christina admired
him for
his attitude
. It generally took
people—especially
men—much longer to come to
grips with Gran’s prickly personality than it had
taken
Martin.

Their institutional escort snorted. Christina
immediately
gripped her
grandmother’s
right arm, in case
she got the bright idea to hit another
policeman.
They’d never get out of here if Gran kept attacking
people.

“
Stop squeezing me, Christina. I won’t hit
the
fool.”

Martin’s head whipped around, and he stared at
Gran. Christina said
quickly, “Not you, Martin. She’s
not referring to you.”

“
No, I’m not,” affirmed Mrs. Mayhew. “I’m
talking
about this jackass.” She jerked her head in the
other man’s
direction.

He didn’t care for being called a fool and a
jackass.
Christina could tell as much when he opened a
door at the end of
the corridor and growled, “Go in
there, ladies.”

Leaning over so that she could reach her
grandmother’s
ear, Christina whispered furiously, “Gran,
will you stop
provoking these people? Martin was
kind enough to come here to help us.
Please don’t
spoil all his good efforts.”

Her grandmother said, “Heh.” But except for a few
glares, which she
distributed liberally among the people
seated at various desks and counters,
she didn’t
do
or say anything else of an incendiary nature.
The now-grouchy guard who’d
brought Martin to
them and led them out of the holding cell, gestured
to several chairs
lined up against a wall. “Sit over
there, ladies.” He said the last word with
a wealth
of
irony. “Someone will be with you shortly.”

Without more verbal sparring, Gran sat. Christina
heaved a sigh of
relief. She didn’t trust her grandmother
to exhibit good sense even under
these circumstances,
which seemed mighty precarious to
Christina. Then again, Gran had been
arrested before.
This was Christina’s first experience on the wrong
side of the law.
She
devoutly
hoped it would be her
last.

After settling her grandmother, Christina decided
it was safe to
remove her attention from Gran and
focus on Martin. “It was truly wonderful
of you to
come for us, Martin. Um, do you know what’s going
to happen
now?”

She was gratified when he took her hand and lifted
it to his lips. Her
heart swelled with love for him
and a tear almost leaked past her rigid
guard. He
was
so sweet. So kind. So—so—not judgmental. She
couldn’t think of the word for
it, but he was whatever
it was, and she loved him for it.

“
I’m hoping they’ll let both of you out on
bond,”
he said, smiling at her.

She had to swallow the lump of emotions that
seemed determined to
spoil her dignity. “Thank you.
This is so good of you.”

“
I won’t
leave here unless all of us do.”

They both stared at Mrs. Mayhew. Gran sat like
a statue, her chin
high, her expression fierce.
Christina’s heart sank. “
Um
,
Gran, I don’t think it’s
fair to expect Martin to bail everyone
out.”

“
I won’t leave here without my fellow victims
of
male oppression and injustice.”

Oh Lord, she meant it. Christina cast a desperate
glance at Martin,
who looked back at her as if he
didn’t have any idea in the world what to
say or do
in
the face of the old lady’s avowed determination.
Neither did
Christina.

Martin found his voice first. “Ah, Mrs. Mayhew,
I imagine these
other ladies have families who will
be coming to their aid. Don’t you think
so?”

“
I have no idea.” Gran didn’t look at him or
at
Christina, but maintained her air of icy rigidity,
gazing
off
into space as if she were witnessing a holy
vision.