would be dead soon if he didn’t change his path. Then his father’s spirit, John said, laid hands on him and cured him. When John came to hours later, he discovered he had “died” for a full two minutes, only to be paddled and brought back by the trauma team. His young heart had apparently stopped beating and the doctors found a clot they had missed.
John, nearly sixteen, returned to his grandmother’s apartment a changed young man. He left the gang, got a job sweeping a Harlem store for minimum wage and worked his ass off to graduate high school on time. Eventually, he started college, applied for grants and got better and better jobs, his disarming good looks and smile winning him fans wherever he went. He had jet-black hair that he wore just a touch long, letting it curl at his collar. His cocoa-colored skin was smooth, and his eyes were so dark you couldn’t see his pupils in the black sea of his irises. Full lips, a strong nose and high cheekbones completed his look. Then there was his body, which Maddie decided was perfect, right down to the cross tattoo on his huge left biceps, which she’d spied once when he wore a polo shirt.
Eventually, John Hernandez worked his way up from the mailroom to a clerical position at Wade and Gonzalez, Attorneys-at-Law. Hector Gonzalez, a partner there, was impressed at the drive John had and mentored him, helping to put John through college with a loan with generous payback terms. Gonzalez always assumed John would perhaps become an attorney, but when he instead went back into his community to make a difference, Gonzalez couldn’t argue with himand admired his commitment.
All Maddie knew was when, at the end of each Monday, he climbed on his Harley and drove away, she felt something inside that Ryan Greene and the other men who could discuss the bull or bear market, the fluctuation of the dollar and the impact of the Pacific Rim’s downturned economy on the American economy just didn’t do for her. She’d return to the office to workoften until midnightbut uncharacteristically her mind would often wander and replay each word of their conversations.
Maddie and John spent all afternoon with the kids. Every once in a while, he would come over to her and lean over the same student, his shoulder touching hers or his hand leaning on hers as they both held on to the back of the student’s chair. The kids would occasionally exchange giggles. Mr. Hernandez’s crush on Ms. Taylor was getting harder and harder to hide.
After they had sent the last student home, straightened the desks, shut down all the computers and tidied the room, John said, “Maddie, you’re an angel, you really are. You never say why you do this, really, but I’m just grateful you make it here each Monday. I couldn’t do this without you. One of me…twenty-five of them. Not a great ratio.” He laughed, pulling on a leather jacket. “Um…want to go for a drink?…I mean…I’m sorry. I don’t even know if you have plans. Or a boyfriend.” He looked at her intently.
“Drinks would be great.” Finally, she thought. Okay the timing wasn’t perfect, but she’d felt something between them for months.
He broke out into an easy grin. “I know the best Tex-Mex place about five blocks from here. Margaritas sound okay?”
“They sound better than okay.” Hell, she needed a respite from this last week.
“I was hoping you’d say yes,” he said sheepishly, pulling a spare helmet out of his storage closet. “I didn’t want to assume, but I brought a helmet. Mind if we take my ride?”
She shook her head and reached up into her hair and pulled out the bobby pins holding her chignon in place. Her hair fell to about three inches below her shoulders. She ran her fingers through it and thought she heard him sigha good kind of sigh.
They walked out to the faculty parking lot, climbed on his bike and headed the few blocks to the Tex-Mex place called Tequila Sunrise. Riding there,
John, nearly sixteen, returned to his grandmother’s apartment a changed young man. He left the gang, got a job sweeping a Harlem store for minimum wage and worked his ass off to graduate high school on time. Eventually, he started college, applied for grants and got better and better jobs, his disarming good looks and smile winning him fans wherever he went. He had jet-black hair that he wore just a touch long, letting it curl at his collar. His cocoa-colored skin was smooth, and his eyes were so dark you couldn’t see his pupils in the black sea of his irises. Full lips, a strong nose and high cheekbones completed his look. Then there was his body, which Maddie decided was perfect, right down to the cross tattoo on his huge left biceps, which she’d spied once when he wore a polo shirt.
Eventually, John Hernandez worked his way up from the mailroom to a clerical position at Wade and Gonzalez, Attorneys-at-Law. Hector Gonzalez, a partner there, was impressed at the drive John had and mentored him, helping to put John through college with a loan with generous payback terms. Gonzalez always assumed John would perhaps become an attorney, but when he instead went back into his community to make a difference, Gonzalez couldn’t argue with himand admired his commitment.
All Maddie knew was when, at the end of each Monday, he climbed on his Harley and drove away, she felt something inside that Ryan Greene and the other men who could discuss the bull or bear market, the fluctuation of the dollar and the impact of the Pacific Rim’s downturned economy on the American economy just didn’t do for her. She’d return to the office to workoften until midnightbut uncharacteristically her mind would often wander and replay each word of their conversations.
Maddie and John spent all afternoon with the kids. Every once in a while, he would come over to her and lean over the same student, his shoulder touching hers or his hand leaning on hers as they both held on to the back of the student’s chair. The kids would occasionally exchange giggles. Mr. Hernandez’s crush on Ms. Taylor was getting harder and harder to hide.
After they had sent the last student home, straightened the desks, shut down all the computers and tidied the room, John said, “Maddie, you’re an angel, you really are. You never say why you do this, really, but I’m just grateful you make it here each Monday. I couldn’t do this without you. One of me…twenty-five of them. Not a great ratio.” He laughed, pulling on a leather jacket. “Um…want to go for a drink?…I mean…I’m sorry. I don’t even know if you have plans. Or a boyfriend.” He looked at her intently.
“Drinks would be great.” Finally, she thought. Okay the timing wasn’t perfect, but she’d felt something between them for months.
He broke out into an easy grin. “I know the best Tex-Mex place about five blocks from here. Margaritas sound okay?”
“They sound better than okay.” Hell, she needed a respite from this last week.
“I was hoping you’d say yes,” he said sheepishly, pulling a spare helmet out of his storage closet. “I didn’t want to assume, but I brought a helmet. Mind if we take my ride?”
She shook her head and reached up into her hair and pulled out the bobby pins holding her chignon in place. Her hair fell to about three inches below her shoulders. She ran her fingers through it and thought she heard him sigha good kind of sigh.
They walked out to the faculty parking lot, climbed on his bike and headed the few blocks to the Tex-Mex place called Tequila Sunrise. Riding there,
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