Diamonds & Hearts Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1 – The Crappy Boss

  Chapter 2 – Mommy Dearest & Daddy Warbucks

  Chapter 3 – Doctors and prognoses

  Chapter 4 – You Must Not Know About Me

  Chapter 5 – Under Pressure Like Coal

  Chapter 6 – An Unexpected Proposal

  Chapter 7 – An Ambush in Sleek Dining

  Chapter 8 – Second Thoughts

  Chapter 9 – Preparing for Success on the Suicide Mission

  Chapter 10 – Eighteen Hours of Fun Flight

  Chapter 11 – Homeland

  Chapter 12 – Lovers

  Chapter 13 – PJs and chatter

  Chapter 14 – A Meeting Abandoned

  Chapter 15 – Becoming Accomplices

  Chapter 16 – A Tour to Di-amond For

  Chapter 17 – Diamond Mountain High

  Chapter 18 – One Sweet Day

  Chapter 19 – If Only the Plan was as Flawless as the Diamonds

  Chapter 20 - Technology Upgrades Suck

  Chapter 21 – When the Mobster gets Mad...

  Chapter 22 – The Smackdown No One Saw Coming

  Chapter 23 – Growing Up is Hard to Do

  Chapter 24 – Shine Bright, Polished Diamond

  Diamonds & Hearts

  By Rosetta Bloom

  Will a mission to steal diamonds succeed at stealing hearts?

  Copyright Rosetta Bloom 2017

  All rights reserved.

  Version:DH170916

  Table of Contents

  Table of Contents

  Get a FREE eBook

  Chapter 1 – The Crappy Boss

  Chapter 2 – Mommy Dearest & Daddy Warbucks

  Chapter 3 – Doctors and prognoses

  Chapter 4 – You Must Not Know About Me

  Chapter 5 - Under Pressure Like Coal

  Chapter 6 – An Unexpected Proposal

  Chapter 7 – An Ambush in Sleek Dining

  Chapter 8 - Second Thoughts

  Chapter 9 – Preparing for Success on the Suicide Mission

  Chapter 10 – Eighteen Hours of Fun Flight

  Chapter 11 - Homeland

  Chapter 12 - Lovers

  Chapter 13 - PJs and chatter

  Chapter 14 – A Meeting Abandoned

  Chapter 15 – Becoming Accomplices

  Chapter 16 – A Tour to Diamond For

  Chapter 17 – Diamond Mountain High

  Chapter 18 - One Sweet Day

  Chapter 19 – If Only the Plan were as Flawless as the Diamonds

  Chapter 20 - Technology Upgrades Suck

  Chapter 21 – When the Mobster gets Mad...

  Chapter 22 – The Smackdown No One Saw Coming

  Chapter 23 – Growing Up is Hard to Do

  Chapter 24 – Shine Bright, Polished Diamond

  Also by Rosetta Bloom

  Get a FREE eBook

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  “Diamonds are pieces of charcoal that handle stress exceptionally well.”

  -Unknown

  Chapter 1 – The Crappy Boss

  The principal stared at me skeptically, still. She was the new principal. Not the woman who hired me. So, I’m not sure what I should have expected. The woman who hired me was on the same page as me and understood my passion for working in the same community I grew up in.

  But Dr. Dodson, the new principal, held my background against me. Attended Harvard on scholarship, was a Fulbright scholar, and am fiercely independent. And of course, smarter than her. That was my real sin, the real reason she stood there, stiff as a statue, with her manicured nails, a fancy scarf nestled around her neck and a pants suit that would make Hillary Clinton jealous. She was a tall woman of Latina descent with reddish brown hair, tawny skin a shade or two lighter than mine and a true dislike for me. Though I couldn’t say the feeling wasn’t mutual. Dr. Dodson eyed me with a sneer, keen to find anything wrong with my teaching. She wouldn’t. I loved science, and I have a degree in geology. Mostly, I’ve worked to help the world. I spent one year abroad in India, working with impoverished girls in Mumbai. Their education matters to me. As does the education of these children.

  The bell signaling the end of class rang right as I was about to call on a student, Keisha. She’s been quiet most of the year, but I finally think I’ve gotten her to believe in herself more. I can tell by the way she watches me when I talk that she’s interested in everything I say. The way her eyes track me. The way she smiles when she gets it. I can almost see the light bulb dinging in her head. But, she almost never speaks in class, and today she had her hand up.

  I smiled at her and said, “Next time, Keisha.” The students gathered their things to transition to the final class of the day. I was lucky enough to have a planning period on paper. But we were so short staffed, I tended to get roped into subbing for other teachers. A couple of students walked up to ask a quick question. I answered them and sent them on. “You can’t be late for your next class,” I tell them. Dr. Dodson edged her way over as the last student filed out.

  “Can I help you, Dr. Dodson?” I force out with a smile. We were required to call her Dr. Dodson or she raised a holy shit storm. My mother was a reporter, and when I was a kid, she told me you only called people doctors if they had medical degrees. Now, having spent four years in college, two years in graduate school and having hung out with lots of academics, I knew educators with Ph.D.’s preferred to be called doctor, but the word always stuck in my throat with her.

  “I was just doing an observation,” she said.

  I sat down at my desk and tapped a key on my laptop to kill the screen saver. I looked up briefly and said, “I noticed.” I wasn’t sure what else there was to say. Well, I was smart enough to know what she wanted said. She wanted me to grovel, to be deferential, to treat her like her shit didn’t stink. Only it did. Her shit stank a lot, which is why she and I were having problems. The former principal, the one snapped away by the Bill & Melinda Gates Education Foundation right before school started, had her shit together and wanted to work to turn this school around. She wanted children to learn, regardless of any turmoil in their home life. School was supposed to be a safe haven for them. The way it had been for me growing up. But this woman, this supposed doctor, was all about the status quo, which was a heaping pile of just barely getting by and teaching to the test.

  She cleared her throat. I looked up at her, as she was clearly annoyed by my attempts to ignore her. I took a deep breath and tried to find my happy place. The place that reminded me that she was not the reason I was here. Girls like Keisha were. I offered her my winning smile.

  She glanced back to the closed door, then leaned closer to me and said in almost a whisper. “Swallow your fake-ass, bougie smile along with whatever nastiness you think about me,” she said.

  I was taken aback by her sudden turn, so I didn’t speak.

  “Ever since I’ve been here you’ve had an uppity attitude, and I’ve had enough of you, honey. You’ve given me attitude because you know it’s hard as hell to fire a New York school teacher without blatant cause, but even if I don’t fire you, I can make your life hell.”

  I’d held my tongue as long as I could. “I have done right
by these kids,” I said, and not in a whisper, because I really didn’t give a damn who heard. “I have stayed after school to help with the geology club and I’ve worked hard to make interesting, relatable lesson plans and gain their trusts and desire for the crap that no one could make interesting and I have done well. My students, almost all of them, have made tremendous progress already this year, based on pre- and post-testing.”

  She held up a hand and shook her head. “You think you’re so brilliant, that your book smarts will get you everything you need,” she said. “Yeah, your scores are good, but you’ve got reasonable students. Next year, you will get every rotten kid with a behavior problem I can find. The worst of the worst will be in your class. And we don’t have to wait until next year, even. I know you organized that summer program with the former principal. I still get to staff it, and I don’t have to choose you. Not if you can’t figure out how to respect the hierarchy.”

  Respect the hierarchy! She meant her. She was awful. I’d just as soon respect a turd on the ground. I opened my mouth, but then shut it, realizing no good would come from anything that would leave my lips at this moment.

  She smiled, realizing she’d won this battle. “You made some sort of snap decision about me early on, pegged me as not what you signed on for and have been swimming against stream ever since. I need you to stop,” she said, pausing. “I do want to turn this school around, and you’re a good teacher. You can help.”

  “I thought being a good teacher was helping.” I couldn’t help myself and regretted it as her eyes flashed cold.

  “Onyx,” she said, using my first name to try to soften her tone. I almost chose not to have it, almost opened my mouth to tell her to call me, Ms. Neel. But I did have some sense of how far I could push things. This wasn’t the battle. She continued, “Spring Break starts in three days. Why don’t you take the time to reflect on your attitude?”

  I wasn’t sure there was much to reflect on. I had calculated the risk of being fired, as well as the risk of shitty assignments. And neither bothered me. I’d never had things easy in my life, and the notion that she would somehow make things harder than they’d been before was half laughable. Before I could say anything to Doctor Dodson, there’s a knock at my door. I look past her and said loudly, “Come in.”

  It was Keisha, the silent girl whose brightness shone through. Tagging along beside her was another girl, one I’d seen around the school, but who wasn’t in any of my classes. She was bleached blonde, rail thin, and wore clothing she thought was cute but that made her look too much like a 15-year-old girl trying to look 20. Her outfit just barely skirted the school’s acceptable dress policy. I watched Dr. Dodson eye her and worried the girl was in for an earful. Luckily, Dodson used all her I’m-going-to-chew-people-out energy on me, and simply turns to Keisha and gives her an expectant look, a clear indication that she should talk.

  “Ms. Neel,” she said. “This is my friend Roxy. She’s got Mr. Bowman for chemistry and she doesn’t understand redox reactions. I told her you’d explain it to her. I hope that’s OK.”

  Bowman was a nice guy and based on what I’d heard from other kids, was pretty decent in the classroom. But he was also pretty one note when it came to explanations. If the kids didn’t get it, he was at a loss to help them. I smiled at Roxy. “I can give it a try. Everyone learns concepts differently,” I turned to Keisha to rope her into this, too. “I’ll explain it first, and maybe you can explain it the way you understand it, and hopefully something will click. Come on over girls.”

  Dodson took that as her cue to leave. She headed out, leaving the door open when she exited. Doors always had to be open when teachers are alone with students I enjoyed helping kids learn, but I hated that pedophiles entering our profession had made simple things hard. Not that I needed time alone with kids, but some kids preferred others not know they were getting tutoring. They’d like some modicum of privacy from passersby. But, oh well, welcome to the 21st century public school.

  Dr. Dodson smiled at the girls and walked out.

  AT THE VERY LEAST, I had been able to help Roxy, and she said she’d try to take my session of chemistry next year. Well, that made all the other crap from the day melt away. Almost. There was one more thing on my mind.

  My cell phone chirped. That was probably my brother, Lynx. I’d been anxious to hear from him all day. I struggled to avoid checking the phone during class. He’d had multiple myeloma as a teenager. It’s a type of blood cancer that could be deadly, but his doctors managed to get it under control after a bone marrow transplant. For nine years, he’d been cancer free, but he required regular checkups. Today was results day. He’d done bloodwork earlier, and was expected to go in and see the doctor at 2:00. I looked at my watch. It was already 2:30. He should have had answers by now. Good answers, like every other time he’d gone in.

  I kept telling myself the good news would continue. Another great blood test and soon we’d be celebrating ten years cancer free. Though, ten years wasn’t even that long, when it came to an entire life. I needed to look at the time as a blessing, because it was, but it felt like too little, like I needed more. Like it wasn’t fair for him to suffer this. And it wasn’t fair that I could lose him. He was the only family I had left. And he hadn’t even lived as long as I had. At 25, he was two years younger than me. I needed him to be alright.

  I blew out, lifted the phone that had alerted me to some type of incoming message, and saw the text message notification bar. My mouth popped open as I read Lynx’s three-word text: It came back.

  Chapter 2 – Mommy Dearest & Daddy Warbucks

  Time to shine,” I whispered to myself, as I put on my game face and prepared to talk to my parents. I glanced out the window of this penthouse bedroom, my old bedroom, took a deep breath, and then hopped up and down a couple of times. A million dollars isn’t that much to ask for, I said to myself, tilting my neck to the side to work out some of the tightness.

  I breathed out, and strode across the marble floor, barely glancing at the $50,000 paintings I passed as I exited the room. I walked through the luxury apartment where I’d grown up with my parents and sister. I swallowed the lump in my throat as I tried to ignore certain things, those that reminded me of Lily.

  I reached the living room and found my father thumbing through The Wall Street Journal, while my mother perused a Hammecher Schlemmer catalog. She once paid nearly $200,000 for one of their hovercrafts, because she’d always loved the Jetsons as a child. But she never used it.

  I tried to look relaxed, and cleared my throat. “Mom, Dad,” I said. “You mentioned last night that you wanted to talk today.”

  When I’d come home from my trip to Greece last week, my father had said he wanted to speak to me. I knew he wanted to lecture me, some conversation that was going to start in a serious tone with, “Ryan, I know...” And then he was going to tell me he’d been young and foolish at one time but that we all had to settle down. I hadn’t wanted to hear the talk, so I’d avoided my parents. But now, time had run out and I had to listen to the lecture and then pull my father aside to ask for the money.

  I tried to look serious, more responsible, as I waited for my father to begin. I knew he wanted me to take my job at the family firm more seriously. Dad owned a shipping business, and I had a mid-level job where I was supposed to prepare marketing reports, but it was really just a place for me to go during the day. My father didn’t want me living on the streets, and would have gladly funded me. However, my mother felt I needed to be more self-sufficient, hence the forced employment. I wasn’t sure what her deal was. She always seemed to have it in for me, always seemed to claim I was being lazy and letting my potential falter by enjoying the privileges they’d worked so hard to give me. Why the hell had they supposedly put in all the “work” in keeping our family rolling in dough if no one was going to enjoy the benefits. They had both come from money. They had both been happy children of New York socialites, so I didn’t get why she gave a damn whet
her I lived up to potential, or just lived it up.

  “Have a seat son,” my father, the illustrious Richard Harper II, said, pointing toward an Eames chair. I remembered seeing the chair in a magazine with a price of $20,000, back when I was little. The low-slung black leather chair with a flared back wasn’t even particularly comfortable. But it was the rage with people who spent money like it was water. People like my parents.

  I had a seat, amiably.

  My mother, who was on a sleek leather sofa, set her catalog down and looked over at me, her blue eyes, scrutinizing. I looked back to my father. I had no desire to see those eyes. They were the exact same as Lily’s, and it hurt to look at them, sometimes. I’m not sure how my father stomached it. Maybe because he viewed them as Laura’s eyes, and it was just that Lily had them, too.

  “I’m not sure there’s a lot of ways to say this, son,” he said, his voice sounding grim, his face tight. He raked a hand through his smoothly coiffed hair, maintained with dye via a stylist who came every week to shampoo, condition and otherwise keep it looking like it belonged to a man of 30, not a man of 55.

  “Is this about my vacation?” I asked. I hadn’t gotten approval from the guy who was technically my supervisor, but I’d floated it by dad, and he’d said it was fine. That tight-ass boss could kick rocks.

  “You didn’t have approval, and Tim has reported other problems.”

  I considered opening my mouth to complain that Tim was a littlekins who just liked to boss other people around. And I would have, if I didn’t need to borrow the million dollars. My father had spent a hundred grand on our last family vacation, flying in cousins that I couldn’t have cared less about. Trying to ignore the fact that Lily was dead by surrounding ourselves with strangers had been stupid and I’d hated every fucking minute of that trip. “I’ll do better with Tom,” I said.