I Pick You

by Jettie Woodruff

  I ran through a fast-food joint on my way home, eager to get things put away and find this beach that was so close. I knew it wasn’t far because I could hear the water lapping the sand and feel the breeze, but there was one house between mine and the waves. I was pretty sure that was the house the lady that gave me the key told me about. She told me to expect a visit from them, something about a compliance agreement I had to sign to live in Cul-De-Sac Circle. Sounded sort of dumb to me. An extremely radical party would have to be going on before any of the neighbors heard anything. That’s how big the lots were, but whatever. I didn’t plan on having any wild parties, not out of bed anyway. I would agree to the rules.

  The beach wasn’t what I expected either. It was private, not a bikinied body in sight, but still breathtakingly beautiful. I knew I could get used to it pretty quick. A set of dramatic rocks came into view on the south side, and my curiosity led me right to them. I walked through the maze of boulders in awe of the simple beauty, and then back to my lovely home. Walking back through the silence reminded me of how noisy Nashville was. No horns blew from the alley, I didn’t hear a garbage truck, or sirens, no egg roll aroma in the air. Nothing but peaceful waves and a nice evening breeze buzzing past my ears.

  Even the plush carpet in my new family room felt amazing. Maybe I didn’t even need a bed. I fell into a deep sleep seconds after I laid down, half hearing a rerun of Jimmy Kimmel Live. He played a drinking game with Allie Fletcher. I remembered that one. That’s the last thought I remembered having until I awoke the next morning.

  The alarm on my phone was set an hour earlier than it needed to be, just in case. I woke with a stiff back from sleeping on the floor, promising to spend my lunch break in a mattress store. I definitely needed a bed. Nonetheless, I felt like I was prepared to take on St. Augustine like a true warrior, armed and ready for an entire universe of second graders, and Miss Brinkley.

  I showered in my master suite, standing alone in dazed isolation while I thought about nothing but the relaxing atmosphere, wishing I had more time. The marvelous shower rained down on me like a summer storm, a blue light casting over my head and through the water.

  Surprisingly, I didn’t feel nervous at all. I felt tall, confident, and sexy as hell. Except maybe the brown leather shoes. They would take some getting used to. My feet hadn’t seen anything but cowboy boots since the day I landed in Nashville. Nonetheless, my dark blue pleated pants did exactly what I wanted them to do. They showed my prized possession and there was no way Miss Brinkley wouldn’t look. I’d bet my life on it. The light gray shirt was a little too preppy for me, and I hated having to wear the long sleeves to cover up my tats, but even I knew how good I looked. I swore a long time ago that I would never have a job that didn’t let me be an individual, yet here I was looking like a school teacher, tats covered by a button-up. All I needed was a cardigan sweater wrapped around my shoulders and I could have passed as the captain of the debate club.

  The sun was high and bright, already scorching hot with that humid Florida air I hated. At least I had my pool and a beach with all the cool water I wanted. My nerves started to prick my skin as I backed out of my three car garage. A second grade school teacher. It still didn’t sound normal. Jandt was a superstar name, not some mediocre teacher name like Miller, Smith, or Lee. Mr. Jandt didn’t sound cool like Brantley Jandt at all.

  My anxious mental strain turned to a full blown panic attack as I parked my car in a back parking lot, surrounded by a full staff. “Fuck,” I said, as I shoved the car into park and jumped out like I was running to fight a fire. I had to do it like that to keep from backing up and hitting the north bound I-75 at ninety miles an hour. Right back to Nashville where I had come from. Where I belonged.

  I gave myself a once-over in the driver’s side mirror, shaking my short hair into a messy, yet stylish fit. With every step I took, I breathed deep, taking in the onslaught of peering eyes. Voyeurs of all shapes and sizes eyed me up and down, and I regretted my choice of slacks. For whatever reason, I had pictured the whole thing in my head as me being alone in a classroom with Rydell Brinkley, my sexy partner. I didn’t expect all the attention, and again, I felt like the naked guy on the basketball court.

  On a positive note, I only watched one set of eyes wander to my pleated pants and the careful way I situated myself off to the side. Wendi held the gate open for me with an amused look. I’m not sure if she meant to be discrete or not, but if so, she sucked at it. Her eyebrows raised up as her eyes looked down.

  “Thank you. Miss Ferguson, right?” I questioned with my best charming smile as the smirk across her lips turned into a straight line, eyes matching the sudden seriousness.

  Her body moved in front of mine, keeping me from entering and her laser-like eyes stopped me in my tracks. She was the hawk, I was the poor mouse, prey, and she was ready to attack. “Stay away from Rydell. You keep it professional, or you’ll have to answer to me.”

  “And me,” a voice said from behind.

  My head bobbed up and down in agreement while my eyes moved past her to a man way more preppie than I. His cantaloupe colored shirt looked like a pumpkin monster and his squeaky voice fit perfectly with his attire, exactly what I would expect. My eyes did the same thing that Wendi’s did, scanning his body all the way down to his white pants.

  White pants? For real? “Yeah, I mean. I wasn’t.”

  “I’m not a bitch. I’m the easiest person on the planet to get along with, but I’m serious. Dead serious. I know your type, and Rydell doesn’t need to get mixed up with you right now. Keep this between us, and know your place.”

  I watched Miss Ferguson walk away, raising my hand to stop the gate from slamming in my face, a terrified expression not easy to hide. Jesus. What the hell? The gay guy wearing the pumpkin costume bounced away, following behind her with more attitude than even she portrayed. I swallowed away a watery mouth, wondering what the hell that was all about.

  Shaking it off as best I could, I tapped my knuckles on Miss Brinkley’s door, knowing how much trouble I was in as soon as I saw her. She looked up from a laptop on her desk, dark framed glasses covering mocha colored eyes and hair falling around her face. Unlike the first time I met her, she didn’t have a messy bun on top of her head. She had long dark hair that hung in strands, curling at the ends. Her eyes were darkened with black eyeliner, but not too much, just enough to call it sexy. Her lips were painted with a clear shine, a hint of red color, and enough makeup to make her pretty, not trashy.

  “What?” she asked with a snappy tone when I stood there, looking at her like an idiot.

  My head and eyes shook in unison, side to side, when I realized I was staring, trying like hell not to notice the lace bra behind the white shirt. “Nothing, sorry, I’m just a little flustered.”

  Her hard face softened and she smiled, shaking her own head and standing. “Of course you are. I didn’t mean to snap at you. This is probably a little overwhelming for you, I just, I mean, I’m a—.”

  I cut her off with my own warm smile, fighting with everything in me not to look down at her cleavage. My peripheral vision screamed for me to look down at her short skirt, but I managed to keep it in check. “You’re fine. Don’t worry about it. Just tell me what to expect from this Father Don guy.”

  Her glistening lips formed into a pucker as she pondered a description, duck lips. “Well, I don’t know. You know how most priests are. He’s kind of like that only younger.”

  I frowned with a fixed expression, having no clue what most priests were like. I knew at that moment I would never be able to pull it off and how stupid I was for trying. “I don’t know any priest. I’m not really a Catholic,” I confessed. I never was one to hold shit in, especially when I didn’t have a chance in hell of pulling it off. No sense prolonging it and dealing with the lies if it was all for nothing anyway.

  Rydell leaned on her desk, crossing one foot over the other with an open hand to a chair in front of her desk. I sat, taking the o
pportunity to look at her body while she hid a smile. “You just won me twenty bucks.”

  I tried to keep my expressions lazy while hiding an attraction that I didn’t normally have. Reverse psychology told me it was the warning to stay away from her. Human nature forced mankind to want what he couldn’t have, only I didn’t know why I couldn’t have her. I mean, other than the fact that I didn’t want, want her. I just wanted to play with her. “Twenty bucks?”

  “Yeah, I bet Wendi and Crystal you were about as Catholic as Jonas. They were certain you were. I called their bluff.”

  I chose to revert my response away from the lie to the remark about the names I hadn’t heard yet. “Crystal? Jonas?”

  “He’s the other first grade teacher. He works with Wendi, and you haven’t met Crystal yet. She’s stuck in Cancún, swears she missed her flight. I’m sure you’ll get along great with her.”

  Something told me not to ask for elaboration on why Crystal and I would get along so well. I listened to my gut and steered clear of that one. As hard as it was, I did keep it professional. Other than the hidden glances to her breasts, her ass, or those damn long legs, I was on cue, adapting to my surroundings like a pro.

  Rydell was very good at explaining all the political bullshit that came with my new job. Stupid shit that made no sense to me, and she even went above and beyond coaching me with what to say to Father Don.

  Every time I relaxed and settled into something nicely, I got hit with something else. First, my unexpected lunch with Father Don, alone in his car, and then a seafood restaurant. I tried reading him through Rydell’s eyes, wondering what her quirky definition of him was. He was different for sure, but I had seen a lot stranger than that in my short time on earth. I laughed at things that weren’t really funny to me because he did. Maybe that’s what she meant. I made it halfway through a cheap fish dinner before he asked about my faith.

  “Can I expect to see you in services on Sunday?”

  “Services for what? Oh, church,” I said, when I realized what services he wanted me to attend on Sunday. “I mean, maybe. We’ll see,” I lied. No way. I dodged the rest of the religious questions with silly little comebacks that made no sense at all, yet he laughed. When he asked me about communion, I said something about being nice to everyone and not knowing where people come from. When he asked me about mass I replied like I had just read it out of a dictionary. The central act of worship in the life of a Catholic. That’s how I responded, and thank God he didn’t want more. I had no idea what the act entailed. He laughed at me, and I had a pretty good hunch he could care less whether or not I was Catholic. Maybe he hoped to convert me. Whatever it was, I made it through lunch without losing my job, feeling a little better about the crazy mess I had gotten myself into.

  The next adrenaline rush came in the afternoon when I mentioned leaving at four and heading straight to a mattress store and then a bar.

  Rydell told me otherwise. “Um, word of advice. Check your school email regularly. We’re here until seven. Orientation with the parents tonight. Remember?”

  I didn’t really hear what came out of her mouth because I was too busy observing the way she coated her lips with slippery gloss, a hint of red mixed with shiny clear. “That’s why you look so nice.” My words were soft and my stare into her eyes was even softer. Not only were they not my words, that wasn’t my tone either. I had no idea where that even came from.

  Rydell’s face instantly went from relaxed to strained, eyebrows darting quickly to the bridge of her nose. “You want to go to the hub? I’ll show you a few things we’re required to do.”

  I’m sure had I read the tedious email Miss Day had sent two days before, I would have known about the hub and the orientation with parents and kids. We trained on where to put in grades, notes to parents, schedules, and yet more political bullshit that made zero sense to me, like signing all emails with, ‘We the people of St. Augustine.’ What the fuck was that even supposed to mean?

  I didn’t even make it through a whole day without flirting with her, crossing a line I was warned not to cross, and I couldn’t help it. It was all Wendi’s fault. Had she not instantly made her off limits, I wouldn’t have felt so drawn to her. I couldn’t help it. She was so pretty, plain pretty with a sexy, yet subtle style and a body. Woah, that body.

  The next two hours were spent in meetings, the first one about the importance of values, and during the second I was fighting with my eyes to stay open. Wendi and my orange friend, Jonas, joined us in Rydell’s class after that, and we waited for parents and their kids. My kids. My kids for the entire school year.

  Rydell helped me out with the first few sets of families, but then ducked into her own class, wanting to get the hell out of there as well. It was okay though, I did just fine, and the kids loved me. It was actually rather easy. I was more intimidated by the parents than the kids, but nothing major. I ended up telling the kids they could call me Mr. J when not one of them understood how to pronounce the D in my last name, other than that, I adapted. Oh, and the stupid pants I chose to wear. I either stood with my hands in front of me, or seated, sure they were going in the trash as soon as I got home.

  “All done?” Rydell asked, as her head popped through the door between our rooms.

  “One more, you?”

  “I’m done, but I’ll wait around.”

  I didn’t have time to protest, and I guess I didn’t really want her to leave. I liked her, everything about her, and she was pretty to look at. I greeted the family of five as they entered my class. “Hello, I’m Mr. Jandt, but you can call me Mr. J. You must be Rowan,” I said, extending a hand to my student, then her parents - her hot mother first. Damn…I followed the chain down to the next two little ones, positively sure the blonde girl in my class was adopted. She looked nothing like her younger brother and sister. Nonetheless, they were a nice looking family with money. Their Monday evening attire was a dead giveaway. Rowan and I hit it off right off the bat, and I knew we’d be cool together. She was so pleasant and smart. I presumed that’s why she skipped the first grade, but I wasn’t surprised once she read to me. Definitely a third or fourth grade reader. Like I knew what third and fourth graders read.

  The kids played in a corner for a few minutes while the dad drilled me like a staff sergeant, asking me questions about my education, my experience, past jobs, marital status. I didn’t lie, and he didn’t like me. That much was evident. I told him how I had been busking on Third and Broadway since I had graduated from Vanderbilt, but this was my first job since I had earned my degree. That didn’t impress him either. Just when I thought he would ask about the balance in my bank account the mom stopped him. Finally.

  “Oh, my God, Pax, leave the poor guy alone. Don’t mind him. He’s just a little over protective sometimes. I’m sure you’ll get along fine with Rowan, she’s a sweetheart, and I’m sure you won’t have any problems with her.”

  “I’m sure of that, too. We’re going to have loads of fun, right, Rowan?”

  “How about some teaching and learning? Let’s focus on that before the fun,” Mr. Pierce suggested with a sharp tone, and I stared at him with no words, unsure of how to respond.

  Again, Mrs. Pierce put him in his place. My eyes glanced to the shadow in the door and to Rydell’s eyes, smiling a reassuring smile, letting me know I was okay with a simple look and barely noticeable nod.

  “Don’t mind him. He works out in the elements. I think the sun got to him today. Let’s go. Come on, kids,” the wife commanded, daggers shooting through her husband’s head and a backhand to his chest.

  I thanked them for coming and assured Mr. Pierce that his daughter was in good hands. He shook my hand with a nod, but I could tell he wasn’t pleased. Not even a little. I watched the kids run out excited for school while the parents followed behind, the mom’s ass in perfect view. She frowned up at him, giving the dad hell with a low tone as they walked down the sidewalk.

  Rydell clapped her hands, pulling my atte
ntion back inside. “What a day. Don’t worry about him. You’re not going to please every parent. Guaranteed. I’m out of here.”

  “Me, too. I bet that guy isn’t getting any tonight,” I said with half a chuckle, a thumb pointing to the Pierce family.

  Rydell shook her head and looked over my shoulder with an unreadable expression. “That’s real nice.”

  “What? It’s true. That guy definitely won’t be hitting that tonight. She’s pissed.”

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Pierce. He’s still being house trained.”

  My body spun back to the door and to Mrs. Pierce, standing right there. I never heard her at all, but Rydell did. Stupid bitch.

  Bypassing red, I knew my face had to be gray, maybe even white; regardless, I was monumentally fucked. “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry, Mrs. Pierce. I didn’t know you were there, and my partner here, well, she sucks.”

  She laughed, not a little, but a lot, walking to the back of the room with bouncing shoulders. I think she may have even wiped a tear or two from her eyes. “You’re fine, and you’re right. Rowan left her little purse in here.”