Read Online Color of Love by Sandra Kitt - Free Book Online

declined Jason’s offer of a cigarette and sat quietly while he smoked. She thought the afternoon over. None of the mystery of that earlier September night had been solved or even much discussed. None of her questions had been answered. On the other hand, she’d felt too shy to be specific. Maybe there was no need to be. Jason Horn seemed fine now. Back to normal, whatever that might be for him. Still, it had been a surprisingly pleasant day, Leah conceded. Soon they’d say good night and wish each other well. Fini.
    Leah was disappointed, and she hadn’t expected that. But after all, what more was there? She’d learned that he lived somewhere on the border of Sunset Park. He’d mentioned his sister, so he had family. He could be a killer for all she really knew, although this was a terrible time to suddenly think of that. She didn’t believe that, anyway. Leah pulled her sweater coat closer about her and hunched her shoulders.
    “Are you cold?” Jason asked, noticing.
    “No, I’m fine.” She turned to look at him but couldn’t see the details of his face in the dark. She could see the cigarette smoke curling over his head, an occasional flash in his eyes.
    “What do you do?” he asked suddenly, as if the question had only just occurred to him.
    “I do design work. Book jackets and ads. Promotion, some illustrations. I work for a publishing house in Manhattan.”
    “An artist,” he commented, nodding.
    “Not really. I’m a graphic designer.”
    “You’re an artist,” he repeated firmly.
    She shrugged. “I like what I do. It’s easy for me. What about you? I already know you used to work with a scout troop, and you work twenty-four hours a day.”
    He looked sharply at her.
    Leah grinned. “I’m a good listener.”
    Jason hesitated, taking another puff of the cigarette, almost nervously. “Me? I work with kids.”
    “Are you a teacher? I bet you teach something like gym and health ed, or coach a team sport. Right? You know, you don’t look like a teacher.”
    He smiled at her quizzically. “What does a teacher look like?”
    “Oh … harried. Overweight. Resigned. Orthopedic.”
    He chuckled in amusement and then grew silent. “No, I’m not a teacher.”
    Jason paused for so long that Leah knew he didn’t want to answer and was hoping that the subject would just drop. But the long pause made her all the more interested.
    “Well?” she coaxed impatiently.
    Jason was looking away, across the street, down the block. Almost anywhere but at Leah. He began to crack the knuckles of his left hand. “I’m a cop.”
    If Jason was trying to shock her, he succeeded. She could sense that he hadn’t wanted to tell her at all because he probably knew what the reaction would be. About that he had been right.
    In Jason Horn’s experience people reacted a certain way to the police. The reactions were never good. Except in an emergency. People see grim-looking men, mostly white, with guns and handcuffs. Even out of uniform something about them was a dead giveaway as to what they did every day. The police were seen as different. Police were “them” against “us.”
    Leah had never spoken to a cop in her life. They were people you approached if there was a crisis; you didn’t have coffee with them. She felt herself withdrawing. She couldn’t help it.
    “Surprised?” Jason asked, still not looking at her. Perhaps he knew the look on her face would put them astronomical distances apart.
    “Yes,” she murmured tightly and felt uncharacteristic anger building. Some of it was unidentifiable and nebulous, but the rest was very clear. She knew how cops treated black folks.
    “What are you thinking now?” Jason asked.
    For a moment Leah couldn’t answer. She just sat stiffly, not looking at him. “The truth? I’m thinking, what the hell am I doing here with you?” She turned to regard him openly. “And I’m thinking about a lot of young black men killed senselessly by police. White