CITY FUNDS

It was past midnight, but Aila couldn't sleep.  She had tossed and turned approximately nine hundred billion times before finally giving up.  The house was quiet.  Tonight, her parents had taken Ethan home with them.  He loved his grandparents dearly and enjoyed spending time with them.  She always seemed to sleep poorly when Ethan was gone.  She came out of bed slowly and slipped her feet into her favorite fuzzy slippers.  She walked out of her room and moved down the hallway.  Unable to help herself, she stepped up to Ethan's room and slowly entered.  What did she think she would see?  Her little boy?  Gosh damn, she was attached to that kid.  What would she do when he started pre-school in the fall?  The picture caught her attention.  She had placed it atop Ethan's toy chest.  She picked up the frame and gazed down at the photo.  Sadly enough, she remembered the day that she took it.  It was morning and she was still lounging in bed.  He had already gotten up and had himself together for his day.  She snapped the picture when he least expected.  He actually looked pretty damn sexy.  She had completely forgotten taking the picture until she found the camera shortly after Ethan's birth.  It would have been easy to throw it away or burn it, but she didn't.  She couldn't cheat Ethan like that.  He deserved to know about his father.  Doesn't his father deserve to know about him? 

Sighing, Aila shoved the thoughts aside.  She placed the photo back where she found it.  It was time to get out of here before she lost her mind.  She shut the door behind her as she exited and made her way back to her bedroom.  To my decidedly lonely bed.  God.  Where had that come from?  Why, don't you know?  It came from your decidedly stupid ass.  Okay.  It was truly time for her to go bed.  She took to her bed, but didn't immediately try to sleep.  Instead, she grabbed a book that she had been making half-assed attempts at reading.  Lately, it was getting very difficult to concentrate.  Once again, she wondered if it wasn't her guilty conscience playing a role.  With each passing year of Ethan's life, he was getting smarter and smarter.  Very soon, he would figure everything out.  And when he did, God help her.  She could already detect little things here and there that made her certain her son would have the sharp mind she found so attractive in his father.  It wouldn't take much for him to do the math.  It would break her heart if her sweet little boy grew up to hate her, but then, she certainly deserved it.  She thanked God trillions of times for the simple fact that her mother never lectured her or told her what to do.  Of course, the old lady was thrilled to have her daughter back home, and was even more thrilled than that when she discovered Aila was pregnant.  It was time to speak up.  She had kept it inside too long now.  Knowing him the way she had, she wasn't afraid to bet that he'd take his fancy semi-auto handgun and blow her away.  Part of her hoped he would shrug it off and go on with his life, but she knew better than that.  It wasn't his way.  He was very serious when it came down to his child.  Children, Aila.  Children. 

Fuck it.  She gave up on trying to sleep for the third time tonight.  She left her bed once more and began pacing about the house.  Every now and then, she would allow her eyes to rest on Ethan's bedroom door.  Goddamn that picture.  Why in the hell did I keep the fucking thing?  Angry now, she pushed her body forward until she was inside her son's room.  She took hold of the picture, intent on smashing the frame and then burning it all in the fireplace.  However, she chickened out.  She stared down at the image for a while, and then stunned herself when she realized she was tracing the outline of his face with her index finger.  She groaned aloud and slammed the picture down.  She couldn't look at his face anymore.  However, she knew there would come a time when she would look at it plenty.  Aila turned and left Ethan's room for the last time tonight. 

She went into the living room and leaned her hot forehead against the cool glass of the large picture window that was the centerpiece of the room.  "God oh God," she moaned.  "I'm sorry," she whimpered.  "I'm so damn sorry I did this to you, Frank."

*  *  *

The next morning, Aila went to work several hours earlier than her scheduled time.  Beck wasn't even there yet.  As she went toward her office, she nodded at the dispatcher, who was staring at her curiously.  Mildeen was new and had no clue that Aila always came to work at the crack of dawn when her folks had Ethan.  She bypassed the nosy dispatcher and kept on trucking toward her office.  Once inside, she closed the door and went toward her filing cabinet.  Although a few days had passed, Aila's nose was still bent out of shape regarding her budget.  She hadn't lied to Sybil when she said she was no math whiz.  However, she wasn't an idiot.  She could balance books a little, and damn it, she knew there was enough money to get Beck's cruiser.  She simply couldn't understand where or how she had made an error. 

For an hour or more, Aila worked her expenditures.  Time after time, she came up with the same numbers.  Damn it.  What was she missing?  Every dime out had been accounted for.  Her list matched Sybil's item per item.  Typically, she would simply let it go, and then try to beg the mayor for enough funds.  How the hell did he expect them to do their jobs without a working cruiser?  Yet, today, Aila couldn't let anything go.  As soon as Mayor Allred showed his face at City Hall, she would ask to see the books.  It was the only way for her to reconcile the differences.  She had a key to the office and wondered if Allred would pitch a fit if she decided to visit it without his presence.  Until then, she was left stuck to brood about the errors and…other things.

*  *  *

Frank Donovan wasn't normally a careless man, but later, he would definitely make a careless mistake due to thoughts best left in the past.  Yet, he couldn't fight them away no matter how hard he tried.  He had gone to bed early one evening, the space beside him vacant.  The blonde had called him repeatedly, but he had no time to deal with her.  Thankfully for him, she had given up after four tries.  With thoughts of the blonde immediately came those of Aila.  Damn his sister for bringing her up again.  Damn him for finding the trench coat so well hidden in his closet.  After several hours, he finally gave up on sleep.  He glanced at his bedside clock.  It was after three in the morning and he normally awakened at five.  Taking on the credo that it was better to have no sleep at all than just a few hours, he dragged his weary body out of bed.  Not bothering to change out of his ratty pajama bottoms [when they were married, Logan constantly nagged him to buy a new pair…to hell with that…they were just 'broken in'], he grabbed his robe and shrugged into it.  The laundry room in his building stayed opened around the clock and he had enough dirty clothing for a load.  He went to the closet and dug out his laundry bag, ensuring that he didn't look for the damnable trench coat again.  He stuffed the clothes in the bag, and grabbed another smaller one that held detergent and softener.  On his way out, he grabbed his work cell and stuffed it into the pocket of his robe.  Looking like a decidedly haggard, but sexy Santa Claus, he threw the bag over his shoulder and disappeared down the side stairwell a few feet to the left of his apartment.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he noticed that the laundry room was vacant.  God forbid if he ran into "Cassi" down here this morning.  During one of her chatty moments, she had told him that when she spent the night with the redhead, she often did her laundry in the wee hours of the morning.  As if I care.  Making a face, he drove thoughts of the blonde out of his mind and began unloading the contents of the bag into a machine.  His phone made a harsh chirping noise and he nearly jumped.  The chirp was overly loud in the peaceful stillness of the room.  Surely his daughter wasn't up at this hour sending text messages…  He dug the phone out of his pocket and flipped it open.  The message was bizarre.  Louie needs a new pair of socks.  What the hell?  Wrong number.  He deleted the message and laid the phone atop a machine next to his.  As he waited for the washer to work through its cycle, he began pacing.  Go away, Aila.  Go away.  I don't know why you're in my head right now, but I want you out.  After his laundry was done [folded and stacked neatly within the laundry bag, of course], he left to prepare for his day, unknowingly leaving his cell phone behind for an unscrupulous character to find.

*  *  *

Although most people thought Cassiopeia a beautiful woman put together in all the right places, she was also idiotic, empty-headed, and downright mean.  She had also been described as a heartless lying bitch as well.  However, she didn't lie when she said she did her laundry in the wee hours of the morning.  Frank had been absent a total of thirty minutes when Cassi entered the laundry room.  As fate would have it, she chose the exact machine Frank had used earlier.  She saw the cell phone immediately.  Helplessly nosy and a hopeless thief, she grabbed the phone with every intention of selling it.  Her lifestyle demanded a lot from her and the phone would bring a pretty penny.  She just hoped that its owner wouldn't come looking for it until she was long gone.  Of course, the ditz didn't notice that there was a security camera in the laundry room.  She moved to slip the phone into her robe pocket, but it rang just before it touched the fabric.  Jumping about nine feet off the ground, she checked the caller ID screen.  Instead of allowing the phone to ring, she stupidly opened the phone and put it up to her ear.

"Hello?"

On the other end of the line, a very startled Aila Blane jerked the phone away from her ear the moment she heard a female's voice.  This phone, she knew, was Frank's work cell.  He protected that phone with his life and only trusted those very close to him access to it.  Her heart seemed to stop and her mouth grew very dry.  He's not single, Aila.  Are you surprised?  Are you really?  "Uh…hello," she uttered, hating the weak sound of her voice.  "I need to speak to Frank Donovan."

Cassi's eyes brightened and then a snotty little smile came to her lips.  This was Frank's phone and the woman on the other end of the line was very disappointed to hear her voice.  "Frank's not available right now," she said.  "May I ask who you are?"

Aila swallowed hard.  The other woman's voice was chirpy and irritating.  She was the kind of girl she thought Frank would go for.  In fact, she was the kind of girl her old boyfriend, Howie, had chosen over her.  What did she expect?  Their dicks ruled them.  Still, she had to tell him about Ethan.  It could wait no longer.  "I'm an old friend of Frank's, Aila Blane.  It's very important that I speak to him.  Could you please tell him I called and give him my number?"

Cassi carried the phone over to a vacant machine and leaned down on her elbows.  She would love this.  "Oh sure, honey.  I don't mind passing along a message.  As soon as he gets out of the shower, I'll tell him.  Your number is on the caller ID, so you won't have to repeat it.  Bye now."

Aila was about to protest when the other woman hung up on her.  Damn it.  She needed to speak to him in the privacy of her own home, not in the damn sheriff's office.  She sighed.  What did it matter?  Frank had another woman.  Goddamn.  What am I doing?  Her purpose in making contact was to tell him about their son, not to reconcile with him.  Yet, wasn't she hoping in the back of her mind that he would take her back?  I'm such a fucking idiot.  She placed the phone receiver back in its cradle and glanced at the clock.  She had a long time to wait for Mayor Allred.  She couldn't wait any longer. 

The moment Aila stepped outside, the tears came in a horrid downfall.  Why did it hurt so much?  She expected it, but she didn't expect it at the same time.  If she looked at it another way, what did she expect?  What if he hadn't had another woman?  Did she simply expect him to welcome her within his open arms?  Was that what she thought Frank would do?  Once he learned the truth about Ethan, he would hate her.  She learned quickly that Frank was a loving, devoted father.  In one of his rare moments, he shared his desire for more children.  When he was still married to Logan, he said he had approached her with this wish time and time again, but she didn't want to have another baby.  It was a point of contention in their marriage.  Darien had been a difficult birth for her and she didn't want to experience it again.  Frank spoke of having another child wistfully, as if he would never have that chance again.  Aila would laugh off his attempts at such serious conversation.  She was afraid.  She was afraid to love him so freely, afraid to admit that she would have fifty children with him if that was his desire, because it was her desire as well.  They both wanted the same things, but could never voice it to the other.  The day Frank came to her in the hospital, she had known of her pregnancy for approximately two hours.  Part of her wanted to tell Frank immediately, especially after he poured his heart out to her.  She would have his baby.  How could he be angry?  Another part also remembered the many, many times he told her he wasn't ready to marry again.  They were both so very careful and took every precaution necessary to prevent unexpected surprises.  But she was an idiot.  She was in the process of popping her pill one morning when she lost her grip on it.  It slipped down the drain and fell out of sight.  How was she to know that skipping one pill would change her life forever?  If she had told him about the baby right at that moment, what would have happened to them?  Of course, she didn't give Frank a chance to hear anything.  Instead, she made the decision for him, and ran home to her parents.  Now the 'baby' was a hearty three-year-old.  How many milestones had Frank missed?  He hadn't heard Ethan's first word, hadn't seen him taking his first step, and hadn't seen him run, jump, or play.  He would never recoup those.  With all that swirling in her mind, she knew that whatever love had was lost forever.

Aila quickly wiped the tears out of her eyes.  If she didn't, someone was sure to see her and start asking questions.  She turned to her right and made her way toward City Hall.  It was time to find her mistake in her figures.  Aila didn't know that her actions were being observed.

*  *  *

Frank had just returned from his morning workout and was looking forward to a long, hot shower when his doorbell rang.  Grumbling incoherently, he rubbed the back of his sweaty neck with a hand towel as he approached the door.  He groaned inwardly the moment he swung it open.  The blonde.  When the hell would she leave him alone?  He should have felt like shit treating her like he did, but he couldn't help it.  There was something about her that he didn't like, and it wasn't just her stinky perfume. 

"I found this in the laundry room," she said with a smile.  "I think it's yours."

His work cell was dangling precariously between her thumb and index finger.  He grew even more irritated.  How in the hell had he been careless enough to leave his phone in the laundry room?  "Yes," he said.  "It is."  He took the phone from her before it could drop onto the floor and shatter into a billion pieces.  "Thank you."

"My pleasure," she purred.  "Listen, if you're interested, my friend is loaning me her apartment overnight, and I can cook dinner for you."

He shook his head.  "Sorry.  I'll be out of town.  If you'll excuse me?"

"Oh, of course," she said.  "I'll call you."

"That won't be necessary," he told her. 

Without waiting for her response, he closed his door and locked it behind him.  He cursed himself for being so damn stupid to take her home with him that night.  He carried the phone into his bedroom and laid it on his nightstand.  After a shower, he would feel all right.  Or at least I hope I will.  When he came out of the bathroom, Frank put himself together for the day, and then reached down for the phone.  He checked it and noticed that he had received one call.  He didn't recognize the number:  1-316-555-5510.  He did, however, recognize the area code.  Kansas.  Frank scrolled down to dial and hit the select button.  He waited as the phone on the other end began to ring.  A decidedly nasal male voice answered with a brusque:  "Sheriff's Office."

"Sheriff's Office," he repeated stupidly.  "Sheriff's Office where?"

"Linker County, Kansas, buddy," the man answered indignantly.  "This is Deputy Beck speaking.  Can I help you?"

Kansas.  Aila was from Kansas.  His heart began beating hard in his chest.  "I'm Frank Donovan and your number was on my phone.  The question is how can I help you?"    

"Not sure 'bout that, buddy," Beck said.  "I didn't call you."

Frank licked his lips and swallowed hard.  His heart was beating double time.  "Do you know a woman named Aila Blane?"

"I ought to, buddy.  She's my boss.  Does she know you?"

Aila.  Aila called me.  But why?  "Yes, she does."  She used to.  "May I speak to her?"

"Nope, you can't.  The sheriff is not here right now, but I can tell her you called.  Would you like that?"

Frank didn't like this man.  He could almost see him sitting back with his feet propped up on his desk.  "Of course I would," he snapped.  "She has my number."  Without waiting for the man to answer, he snapped his phone shut and clipped it onto his belt.

*  *  *

Aila came back to the office around seven in the morning.  She had spent a good two hours with Sybil's books.  The figures she had made less sense than her own.  Sybil was like a sister to her, but Aila was close to approaching the other woman.  What the hell had happened to the money?  Had Sybil done something to it?  She passed by Beck's office and he shouted at her.

"You bellowed, Beck," she said.

"Yeah.  I got some call for you real early this morning.  Said his name was Frank something or other," he told her.

He called.  Oh my dear God, he called.  What would she do?  "What did he say?"

"Nothin' much.  Man's a real smart ass, though," he said.  "He wants you to call him back.  Said you had his number."

"Thanks, Beck."

Aila slipped into her office and shut the door behind her.  She went to her desk and sat down.  Burying her face into her hands, she began to cry again.  It's got to be PMS.  Yep.  That's it.  What the hell would she say?  She didn't know it yet, but she wouldn't get the chance to call back.

*  *  *

Cassi opened the door and smiled.  It was Frank.  "Changed your mind?"

She stepped back and turned around, allowing him entrance to the room.  He approached her slowly from behind.  She could sense his presence and feel his body heat radiating toward her.  Her nipples had begun to harden already and she felt shaky all over.  His hand came up to her shoulder and he squeezed it gently.  He brought his lips down to her ear and she shivered when she felt his breath blowing into it.  She brought her hand to her throat and closed her eyes tightly.  She couldn't wait for him to strip her naked.

"I do not make idle threats.  If you ever touch my phone again," he began softly, his teeth clenched, "I'll personally see to it that you spend twenty years in federal prison."

He turned and left her standing stunned and speechless.

_____________________

To be continued…