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“Jazzy is a macaw,” Polly said. “Some of you heard him speak earlier. He has an uncanny knack of saying things that fit the moment, making a person believe, at times, that he’s carrying on a conversation. That, of course, is impossible. Anyway, I took extra classes in the care of exotic birds after the Dogwoods hired me, because they board an amazing number of them during the year.”
“Give me a kiss, hot stuff,” Jazzy squawked.
“How much does one of those fancy birds cost?” a girl asked.
Uh-oh, Joe thought.
“Jazzy comes from a long line of champion macaws,” Polly said pleasantly. “He’s worth...”
Don’t say it, Polly, Joe silently begged. Tell them you have no idea what the stupid bird is valued at.
“...I’d say,” Polly said, “probably several thousands of dollars.”
Oh, hell, Joe thought.
Polly blinked in surprise as the students erupted in boos, whistles and thumbs-down gestures.
What was going on? she thought frantically. The students had been listening to her; she knew they had. They’d been sincerely interested in what she had been saying. What had suddenly gone wrong?
Joe stepped in front of the table and raised his hands.
“Quiet down,” he shouted. “Knock it off. I understand where you’re coming from, but there’s no excuse for being rude.”
Well, she was glad Joe understood where the now angry and obviously upset students were “coming from,” Polly thought, wrapping her hands around her elbows in a protective gesture. She didn’t have a clue.
“You’re pushing me,” Joe hollered. “Knock...it... off.”
Then Polly watched in wide-eyed horror as Jazzy waddled to the edge of the front of the table, ruffled his feathers, then proceeded to bite Joe Dillon on the right side of his oh-so-gorgeous tush!
Two
It was bedlam.
Joe roared as the message of a sudden, sharp pain reached his brain, then he spun around, fury very evident on his face. Jazzy made a beeline for the cage and hustled inside. Polly quickly shut and locked the door.
The students went wild; laughing, hooting, pointing at Joe in obvious delight at what had transpired. The pounding of feet on the bleachers began again and three cheers of hip, hip, hooray were executed in Jazzy’s honor.
I want to go home, Polly thought frantically.
Mark Jackson left his chair and came to the table.
“I’ll take over,” he told Joe. “You’d better exit stage left with Ms. Chapman and the felon.” He grinned. “Do you need to see a doctor about your wound?”
“No,” Joe said, his jaw tight. “I need to find a recipe for barbecued macaw.”
“That’s not fair,” Polly said. “Jazzy was upset by the noise and acted out of character. He has never bitten anyone before. He was shook-up and your...your posterior was right in front of him and...”
“Save it,” Joe said gruffly.
He snatched up the cage, then came around the table to grip Polly’s upper arm.
“We’re outta here,” he said.
“Bye, Bird Lady,” a chorus of students sang out. “Bye, Jazzy.”
Polly smiled and waggled the fingers of her free hand in farewell. In the next instant she was nearly lifted off her feet as Joe began to haul her toward the side entrance to the building. Mark Jackson stepped up to the microphone.
“Okay, we’ve had some fun,” the principal said, “but it’s time to get serious. Quiet down. Our next speaker is...”
Before Polly knew the identity of the next speaker, she was propelled outside, the door clanging shut behind her, Jazzy and Joe. Joe set the cage on the ground, then rubbed the area of his anatomy that had been attacked.
“Damn it, that really hurt,” he said, glowering at Polly. “Not only that, but your stupid bird made me look like a fool in front of the students.”
“It wasn’t Jazzy’s fault.” Polly poked her nose in the air and folded her arms beneath her breasts. “He was frightened. I mean, heavens, so was I. One minute I was giving my nifty little speech and the next thing I knew the students went berserk. What did I do wrong?”
Joe sighed and picked up the cage.
“Come on, Polly,” he said. “I’ll walk you to your car. I purposely invited men to be the speakers today. I know there’s limited parking around the school, and it wasn’t my intention to have a woman wandering alone in this section of town.”
Polly laughed. “No one would dare bother me. I have an attack bird for protection.” She glanced up at Joe’s stormy expression. “Sorry. I was just trying to lighten the mood here. Look at the bright side, Joe. Jazzy could have clamped on to your...your person and refused to let go. Now that would have been very embarrassing.” She nodded decisively.
“Your car, Polly?” Joe said, no hint of a smile on his face.
Polly moved around him. “Okay, fine. It’s two blocks away.”
Joe fell in step beside Polly as they left the school grounds. Jazzy was blessedly silent.
“Well?” Polly asked finally, after they’d gone a half a block without speaking. “Are you going to tell me what giant mistake I made during my speech?”
“You don’t have even the slightest clue, do you?” Joe glared at Polly, then shook his head. “You just don’t get it.”
“Obviously not.”
“Look, you started out just fine, really great, in fact. You hit those kids where they live with your story of having a dream, but realizing you didn’t have the financial resources to achieve it. You definitely had their interest and full attention.”
“Hooray for me,” Polly said dryly. “It sure didn’t last long.”
“You were stopped short of your goal, your dream,” Joe continued, “but found a way to be connected to the field you wanted to be in. Then? Hell, you blew it.”
“What did I do?” Polly said, nearly yelling.
“Jazzy’s owners are in Europe for six months? This stupid bird cost thousands of dollars? Come on, Polly, get real.”
“What I said was true.”
“And that’s the problem. Don’t you see?” Joe said, none too quietly. “In the eyes of those kids you sold out. You struggled, you settled for less than you originally dreamed of, then you ran, did not walk, into the world of the idle rich.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Polly said. “The Dogwoods offered me a job and I took it. That’s what most people do when they need to pay the rent and buy food. What difference does it make where I’m employed to enable me to use the skills I worked so hard to obtain?”
“It makes a very big difference, Ms. Chapman. You could be with an open veterinary clinic in a low-income neighborhood. Or the Humane Society. Or be the veterinary technician for one of those organizations that finds families for homeless animals.
“But, oh, no, not you. You’re baby-sitting idiot birds that cost more than some of those kids’ parents make in six months. You copped out on your roots, on who you are, and those students knew it.”
“Call the cops,” Jazzy said. “Call the cops.”
Polly stopped walking, causing Joe to halt his step. She looked up at him, her blue eyes flashing with anger.
“Wait just a minute here,” she said. “You agree with those kids, don’t you? You’re expressing your own views about me, as well as theirs. Right? Isn’t that right, Joe? You’re standing in judgment of me, just like those students did.”
“Damn straight I am. You were in a position to give something back to the world you came from. Instead? You’re hobnobbing with the rich and famous, who go to Europe for six months and think spending thousands of dollars on a bird is chump change. Yeah, I agree with the students of Abraham Lincoln High School. You sold out, Polly Chapman.”
“And you’re certifiably insane, Joe Dillon.”
Polly spun around and started off again. Joe strode after her.
“Totally nuts, that’s what you are,” Polly raged on. “Oh-h-h, you’re infuriating. How dare you pass judgment on me? You’ve got a lot of nerve, do you know that? I work very hard for my paycheck and... No, forget it. I’m not justifying myself and my existence to you. You don’t know the first thing about me.”
“I know every word you said in your crummy speech, lady.”
“Well, excuse me to hell and back for making a living, Mr. Dillon, for keeping a roof over my head and food on my table.”
“Hell, I can’t get through to you, make you understand. I’m wasting my breath.”
“Oh, yes, do save your breath. I’m sure it takes an extra dose to be so full of hot air.” Polly executed an indignant little sniff. “You talk the talk, but do you walk the walk?”
“Meaning?”
“Does the lack of a wedding ring on your hand indicate that you’re single?”
“Yes.”
“So, you’re a single man, who has probably been teaching for a dozen years, or more. I imagine that adds up to what would be considered a sizable salary in this particular neighborhood.
“You arrive at Abraham Lincoln high every morning with your holier-than-thou attitude. But at day’s end? What part of town do you drive home to, Joe? What cushy, comfortable section of Tucson do you live in?”
Polly stomped off the curb and around to the driver’s side of her van, pulling her keys from her pocket as she went
“Well, that question is easy enough to answer,” Joe said, coming up behind her.
Polly unlocked the door. “Do tell.”
“What a convenient coincidence. You’re parked in front of the house I rent. This is the cushy part of Tucson where I reside, Ms. Chapman. I talk the talk and, by damn, I walk the walk.”
Polly opened her mouth with every intention of telling Joe that his sense of humor left a lot to be desired. She snapped her mouth closed again in the next instant, as the thought struck her that maybe he wasn’t kidding about her being parked in front of his house.
She moved to the left to enable her to see the structure in question clearly, her eyes widening.
The house was a small wood frame with several different-colored shingles on the roof. It was obviously old, but appeared well cared for. It was painted beige with dark brown trim, had a narrow porch that held two lawn chairs, and the minuscule front yard was covered in dark brown-colored gravel.
It was, without a doubt, Polly decided, the most tended-to looking house on the block, but that still didn’t mean it was where Joe Dillon lived. It just didn’t make one iota of sense for a man with his income to live in this high-crime part of town.
“You don’t believe me, do you?” Joe said.
“I’m thinking it over,” Polly said, still staring at the house. “I simply can’t get a grip on why you would choose to live...well, in the ghetto if you don’t have to.”
She looked at Joe, a puzzled expression on her face.
“The career day you organized at the school,” she continued, “is proof that you want your students to have hopes and dreams of a better life. You were attempting to show them that there are ways to get out of this environment. Why, Joe? Why would you intentionally remain here if you aren’t forced to?”
Polly shifted her gaze back to the house. “No, I’m not certain I believe that you live here. There’s no rhyme or reason for it.”
“Come on,” Joe said. “I’ll prove it to you.”
“Don’t you have classes to teach?”
“The career day assembly will last all morning. I’ll be back at the school in time for my next scheduled class. Are you coming?”
“Why not?” Polly said, throwing up her hands. “So far my day has been totally bizarre. What’s one more layer on the cake?”
“Cake and ice cream,” Jazzy said, “and a bottle of beer.”
“That’s a gross combination, Jazzy,” Polly said.
“Polly want a cracker?” the bird said.
“Oh, hush,” she said.
“I suppose I’d better hold on to this cage and not put it in the van,” Joe said. “After all, this mound of feathers is worth thousands of dollars.”
“Don’t start that again,” Polly said, frowning. “I’m not the one who determined the monetary worth of champion-line macaws.”
“No, you’re just the one who baby-sits them while the owners are in Europe for six months.” Joe moved past her and started toward the house. “What a terrific contribution to society you make, Ms. Chapman.”
Polly sighed and followed Joe up the cracked, cement sidewalk leading to the little house.
On the porch, Joe raised one eyebrow and cocked his head toward the black metal mailbox mounted next to the door. The name Dillon was spelled out on the front of the mailbox in white, stick-on letters. He removed some keys from his pocket.
“All right,” Polly said. “That’s enough. I believe that you live here. I can’t fathom why you do, but I’ll concede that this is your house.”
“Don’t you want a tour of the mansion?”
“I’m not in the habit of entering the homes of strange men I don’t even know,” she said, with a little sniff. “And you, sir, are very strange.”
Joe chuckled despite his determination not to. A funny shiver Buttered down Polly’s spine at the sound of the deep, masculine rumble. The smile that had touched Joe’s lips disappeared in the next second.
“Like I said, you just don’t get it,” he said. “How can I relate to my students, really understand them, if I don’t live in the reality of their world?”
He narrowed his eyes as he looked directly at Polly.
