Hunter's Moon Rising

Chapter 1-3

SO THE LITTLE BASTARD had nothing to say. In front of that boy he talked himself right into a fist fight and three day suspension. But nothin' for his mama. Noelle looked at Derek with disgust. This was his third strike. If it wasn't for his mama, his ass would have been expelled. Another benefit of working at the Bureau. Other boys like him would be looking at juvvie and a front row seat down the school-to-prison pipeline.

“Helluva way to start my vacation.” She shook her head. “I can't with you, ya know.”

“You would make it all about you.”

Oh, the little bastard spoke. She bit back a retort. “You're grounded, so you can forget about the Javits Center. I'm putting those tickets on Craigslist as soon as we get home.”

“I don't care.”

“Yeah, you don't care about anything. Grades. Family. Tell me, honey, what do you care about? This girl you're fighting over? Proving you're a tough guy? What? Because I'm at a loss.”

“You wouldn't understand.”

“Yeah, I know. That's why you have Carlos. You treat him like s**t, too.”

“No one gets it.”

“It?”

“This guy—he's treating her bad. I—forget it.”

Hmm. Pieces of the puzzle began sorting themselves. A picture appeared. “Someone's abusing this girl? Tell a teacher or call 311. You can't fight. Not now when you're so close to getting that scholarship.”

Derek huffed. “I'm not going to college. Failing. Remember?”

Oh boy, did she. His grades were in the toilet except for chemistry. He loved that class, hence tickets to the science fair at the Javits. That old school fuddy duddy of a teacher kept him in line and motivated. How? Who cared? The woman was a saint.

“What about Ms. Barnes? You trust her, no?”

“She's old. She wouldn't understand.”

Of course. Because don't trust anyone over thirty. None of us know anything about life. We just sprang to life old and out of touch. I'm sorry I was such a shitty teen, Ma.

Once they got home, Noelle set about whipping up chicken stir fry for dinner. Derek sat at the table, head buried in a world history book. An all-too-common uneasy silence hung between them.

She put the rice on, then opened two family-size packs of pre-sliced chicken strips and tossed them in soy sauce and Ma's special Asian spice blend. Along with a growing anger problem, Derek's appetite had skyrocketed in the past month. She'd been expecting it since he was a teenager, but damn. Costco was gonna run out of product if he kept this up.

She put the chicken in a hot pan. As the meat sizzled and browned, she ran through a list of others she could call on to talk to D. He'd already gotten the talk from immediate family. Her partner, Carlos, treated him like his own son. Bunch of good that did. What about the counselor from this afternoon? He was young enough that D might listen. He wasn't family, so his secrets wouldn't be spread through the family gossip vine.

When the meat was nearly done, she added a gallon size ziplock bag of pre-sliced peppers and onions. Please don't be a perv. As soon as she sold those science fair tickets, she'd work on finding out everything on Mr. Warren Franklin. Let someone else feed his ass for a change.

She made an extra large serving and placed it in front of him. “I love you, honey. You didn't ruin my vacation. We're going to use this suspension time to get you back on track.” She hugged him tight. He was stiff in her arms.

After making herself a plate, she sat in the living room alcove/office space with her laptop. So, Mr. Franklin. Who are you? One point in his favor was he had predicted the meeting at the school with disturbing accuracy. More insinuations of bad parenting from the principal and the severest of side eyes from the front office staff. What was she supposed to do? Quit her job? What kind of example did that show Derek? That a woman crumpled to dust when her husband died? There was no way to win. If she did quit her job to care for Derek full time, the same people would look at her as some mooching welfare queen. The plight of the modern woman was bullshit. All this for sixty-five cents on the dollar.

By the time she finished eating, she discovered Warren was a former Marine with an honorable discharge. He'd also taken some psych classes at Howard, but didn't have a degree. He made a living as a carpenter with a workshop in Red Hook. Promising, but did he have a criminal record? Oh, stop it. Not every Black man has had a run-in with the law. Noelle shut down her inner cop. Not only had Warren never been arrested, his only fault seemed to be a lead foot. Man couldn't go six weeks without a speeding ticket. Thank God he wasn't a perv. Damn, she'd worked in law enforcement too long. We're all so jaded.

Derek packed up his books and hit the shower. A short time later, music blasted from his bedroom. Rolling Stones “Paint It Black”. Her vision blurred with tears as she realized the date. October 9th. They always went to Derek senior's grave on his birthday. No wonder D was so upset. How had she forgotten? He'd only been gone five years.

Noelle sighed with old regret as she cleaned dinner dishes and packed leftovers in a plastic container. She had met Derek Briggs at the academy as a fresh-faced recruit. He was about to graduate. She was bright-eyed and optimistic. He was jaded, but dedicated to serving his community. He knew what he wanted and when he decided he wanted Noelle, he pursued her with the same intensity. The sparks between them were undeniable and they went from casual meetings at the gun range to an inseparable couple in a month.

The day she graduated from the Academy, Derek put a ring on it and a couple of months later, they tied the knot at City Hall. Those first years were rough. Rookie cops didn't make a lot of money. The hours were s**t. Against all odds, they thrived and two years later, Derek junior arrived.

Derek loved being a dad. When he was home, he left all the police bullshit at the precinct was all about her and little D. He was her biggest supporter when she decided to leave the NYPD to go to Quantico. Everyone said she was lucky to have such a man. Two years after becoming a federal agent, her luck ran out.

As soon as the men came to the door, she knew. They said all the right words, but it didn't change a thing. Her husband was dead. Killed in a car accident while in pursuit of some asshole on the West Side Highway. The life of the best man she ever knew snuffed out by a van full of knock off handbags.

Noelle poured a glass of Malbec. Sadness and guilt churned within, but no tears fell. She took a deep drink. She hadn’t been able to cry since the funeral. Since then, work was all she had to keep it together. It wasn’t enough. Not for D. He deserved a mother who could remember his father's damn birthday. She set the glass down, then headed down the hall. She knocked on D’s door. After a few seconds the music died down and he cracked it open. Puffy eyes belied his sour look and aggressive stance.

“I’m sorry, D. I forgot.”

“Doesn’t matter. I don’t care.”

“Yes, you do. We’ll go see Dad tomorrow. I promise.”

“Whatever.”

He closed the door. Music returned louder than before. Noelle leaned against the wall and blew out a frustrated sigh. How many times had she and Derek rocked out to the Stones or made love with them on in the background? Hell, D was probably conceived during “Sympathy for the Devil”. Maybe that's why he was so much trouble.

She forgot her dead husband’s damn birthday. Christ. What kind of widow was she? A teeny voice inside told her she’d mourned enough. It was time to move on. She shoved the voice aside. It knew nothing. No one would be as good to her as Derek was. At her age, finding love was a pipe dream.

On the other hand, s*x was easy and Noelle's dance card had not remained empty in the past five years. She was an attractive woman with a healthy desire for male companionship. By choice, she stuck to men only good for the short term. No chance to fall in love. No one worth introducing to Derek. Men with enough of their s**t together to entertain her, but wouldn't become stalkers or want to play daddy. Preferably late twenties or early thirties. Yeah, she liked them young. Fewer complications that way.

She downed the rest of the wine and turned in for bed. Before she drifted to sleep, a voice inside urged her to make a play for the counselor. He was young, hot, uncomplicated. It had been a good six months since she had been on a date. Why not give Warren a try? Yeah right. Forget about him. Don't mix business with pleasure. Besides, there was no way a guy like him was single. He was probably gay.