The Lovely Reckless Read Free Page A

in the process.
    â€œHow’s it going, Lex?” Dad asks.
    â€œPretty good.” She yawns. “Please tell me you have coffee, Frankie. The line at Starbucks was insane.”
    â€œThere’s a pot in the kitchen,” Dad offers.
    â€œThanks, Mr. Devereux.” If she keeps acting this cheerful, Dad will think she’s high. We’ve known each other forever, but when Lex developed a gross crush on my dad in seventh grade, it almost resulted in best friend excommunication.
    â€œDon’t thank him yet,” I whisper. “His signature blend is burnt Maxwell House.”
    â€œI’d rather go without food for a week than caffeine for a day.” Lex pours herself a cup of liquid coffee grounds.
    Dad fishes a Velcro wallet out of his back pocket and lays two twenties on the table next to me. “Swing by the store after school and pick up some Diet Coke and anything else you want.”
    I leave the crumpled bills on the table. “I won’t have time. Community service starts at three thirty, right after classes let out.” Thanks to King Richard, I already have a probation officer and a community service assignment. He called in a favor at the district attorney’s office, and my case was bumped to the top of the pile. “Lex is dropping me off at the rec center and picking me up when I’m done.”
    I told Dad all this last night.
    â€œYou don’t mind?” he asks Lex. “You’re already driving Frankie to school in the mornings. I would take her myself—”
    â€œBut you can’t blow your cover. I totally get it.” She takes a sip of her coffee and cringes, but Dad doesn’t notice.
    â€œYou can’t slip and make a comment like that at school.” Dad gives us his serious cop look. “You both understand that, right?”
    I ignore the question.
    â€œAbsolutely,” Lex says. “I mean … I absolutely won’t say anything.”
    â€œGood.” Dad nods and looks over at me. “I would never send you to Monroe if I thought it would be an issue. The high school and the rec center are in the Third District—the nicer part of the Downs. It’s nothing like the war zone where I work in the First District.”
    It’s weird to hear him describe any part of the Downs as nice . I guess it seems that way if you compare the run-down projects, abandoned buildings, and streets lined with liquor stores in Dad’s district with the neighborhoods near Monroe.
    â€œPeople in one-D think I’m a car thief. If anyone finds out I’m a cop, I’ll have to walk away from my open cases and transfer to a district outside the Downs.”
    Most people hear the word undercover and automatically think of DEA agents in movies—the ones who have to disappear without telling anyone where they’re going and move into crappy apartments so they can infiltrate the mob or the Hells Angels. But that’s not the way it works for regular undercover cops like Dad.
    Obviously, he doesn’t wear a T-shirt that says I’M A COP . But he also doesn’t have to lie to the whole world about his job—just people who hang out in, or near, his district.
    â€œFrankie? You understand, too, right?” He sounds irritated. That’s what I get for ignoring his question the first time.
    â€œI’ve never told anyone about your job except Lex, Abel, and Noah. Why would I start now? Maybe you should lecture Mom. She still bitches about it to all her friends.”
    Dad sighs. “I’m not trying to give you a hard time. I’m just reminding you to be careful what you say.”
    â€œConsider me reminded.” I glare at him, and Dad turns to Lex.
    â€œYour parents don’t mind you driving Frankie to the rec center?”
    â€œThey’re fine with it.” They probably have no idea. Lex’s parents are never around unless they need her to pose for press