Adrian and I grabbed another cup of coffee then headed to the school to conduct interviews with the staff and a few of the students who had lockers around the one where the drugs were found. I expected the morning to go by fast and to be rather dull; it turned out to be the exact opposite.
Our first stop was the principal’s office. It was like any other principal’s office I had visited during my misguided youth. Principal Rogers’ office had the same boring tile floor and nondescript wall coloring as I expected to find, but the person sitting behind her desk was a surprise.
“My name is Delaney Sampson and I’m the superintendent for the Blissville School District.” Her tone was very professional as was the handshake she offered before we settled down to business. Then shit got real. “I’ll be overseeing the interviews today due to Principal Rogers’ suspension.”
“Suspension?” Adrian asked. His confused tone of voice matched my thoughts.
Superintendent Sampson sat up taller, her posture looking so rigid she might break. “That’s what I said.” Her tone of voice was short, clipped, and as bitterly cold as the wind outside that day. I wondered if she was related to Deputy Dickhead when she first introduced herself. The arrogant look on her face that was identical to his negated my need to ask. Her demeanor told me that she didn’t like to be questioned or asked to repeat herself. Too damn bad.
“I think we both know that Detective Goode heard what you said. He wasn’t confused, he was questioning,” I told her. Slipping into the role of bad cop was so damn easy for me. I had no use for misplaced arrogance and stupidity. “What we want to know, and have the right to ask,” I added so that there wouldn’t be any confusion, “is why she was suspended. Don’t give me the standard lecture that investigations involving school district personnel are kept private either.”
“It’s to protect…”
“No, you’re not protecting her,” I said, interrupting the spiel she was about to give me. “What you’ve done is cast suspicion on her in the community and we’d,” I gestured between Adrian and myself, “like to know why.”
“It looks really bad for Mrs. Rogers,” Adrian added. “The largest cache of drugs in our county’s history is discovered and the principal is suspended the same day or the next.” He shook his head.
“I’m not really concerned about your approval,” she said icily. “The fact is that someone had access to our school building and tampered with our video equipment under her watch. I’m not saying she was involved, but she was careless.”
I disliked the woman immensely. I promised myself that it wasn’t personal and had nothing to do with Josh, but I wouldn’t have placed my hand on a bible and swore that it was the truth. “Couldn’t the same be said about you?”
“Well, I…” She stuttered and blustered like she’d never been challenged before meeting me.
“I think we’re getting off on the wrong foot.” Adrian held his hands up in the air, attempting to calm the situation. He was just as quick to fall into the role of good cop. “We asked, you answered. Let’s move on.” After receiving a barely perceptible nod from her, Adrian continued. “Let’s start with the students and then interview the staff who had access to the video equipment and master key to the lockers.”
The superintendent’s reply was a brittle, “Fine.” She looked at her list and rattled off the names of the two students on the list that Mrs. Rogers made. “Let’s start with Regan.”
Looking at a sullen, disinterested sixteen-year-old Regan Haines was like looking at myself twenty years ago. His insolence was plainly visible in his expression and by the way he slouched in his chair looking at his nails as if we weren’t in the room with him. Others might’ve been put out by his behavior, but not me. At his age, I was angry at the world because my older brother, my hero, had been a victim of a convenience store robbery gone bad. I grew angrier and angrier with every day that his killer wasn’t caught. I can honestly say that I don’t know what would’ve happened to me had my football coach not given me a good shake when I needed it most. I transferred my emotion to the sport I loved most and then later into my education so I could be the best cop I could be. I didn’t know Regan’s reason for his attitude, but I was willing to bet it was from more than just boredom.
While his interview answers consisted of shrugs, the student who walked in after him was completely opposite. Lily Watson came into the office shaking like a Chihuahua. She took one look at Adrian and me then burst into tears.
“I did it!” She held out her hands in front of her like she expected us to cuff her.
Her confession took us off guard. She would’ve been the last person I suspected with her sweater set, pearls, and gray slacks. She looked like she was going to a church luncheon, not high school. I reminded myself that looks were often deceiving and my skills in that department were a bit rusty. I mean, a seventy-year-old woman got the drop on me and scrambled my brains. I once judged Josh as feminine because he had extra sway in his hips and wore vibrant clothes.
“You’re confessing to putting the drugs in the locker next to yours, Lily?” Superintendent Sampson’s voice was as doubtful as my initial reaction to her confession.
“Drugs? What?” Lily sounded as confused as the rest of us.
“What exactly are you confessing to?” Sampson spoke slowly, enunciating every word carefully.
“Well, not that,” Lily answered. She began fiddling with her pearl necklace and chewing on her lower lip. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.” Had she been living under a rock? Josh heard about it before I arrived on the scene, yet a student didn’t know it was going on in her own building.
Superintendent Sampson asked, “How could you not know?”
“Um… you see…”
“Lily!” The superintendent’s loud, harsh voice was enough to scare me into a confession.
“I played hooky yesterday, ma’am. I stayed up too late watching Netflix the night before instead of studying for the biology exam. It counts for thirty percent of my grade and I just couldn’t take the chance I’d fail it.” Lily began to cry again. “My mom doesn’t know I missed school yesterday. I called in and pretended to be her when I left a message on the student absentee voicemail box.”
Superintendent Sampson let out a frustrated breath before she said, “We’ll deal with that later. These detectives are here to ask you questions about the locker between you and Regan Haines.”
“Oh.”
“Lily, have you seen anyone accessing that locker? Students or faculty?” Adrian asked.
“No, sir.”
“What about anyone selling drugs in the school?” I asked her.
“I’m not very social. I only care about getting good enough grades to get a scholarship so I can get the hell out of here.” She raised her chin and looked at the superintendent. “I’ll gladly take whatever punishment you deem necessary for my actions yesterday, but I’d appreciate it if you don’t put that in my transcripts. I’ve had an exemplary record thus far.”
“I’ll consider it,” Sampson said. Lily’s plea must’ve struck a chord because she sounded less like a battle ax and more like a human.
The staff interviews were a lot less eventful and not nearly as entertaining. Each faculty member seemed to be shocked about the drugs, had no idea who was involved, and couldn’t believe that any student had connections to someone who could move that volume of drugs around. I thought the morning was a complete bust until the final two minutes of the last interview with the geometry teacher.
“But you know,” Doug Baxter said, almost as a second thought. “There was a band concert the night before the bust so the whole town had access to the building. And if the office was unlocked, then anyone who’s gone to school here in the last twenty-five years knows where the school secretary keeps spare keys in her desk.”
I looked over at Adrian who fell into that category. “Middle drawer on the right-hand side,” he answered without being asked.
&nbs
p; “Great! The whole damn town is a suspect,” I told Adrian when we were on our way back to the police station.
“Including the secretary. She’s about Wanda Honeycutt’s age.” Adrian didn’t bother to hide the smile in his voice when he brought up the name of the woman who clobbered me.
“I don’t know why you’re so damn smug,” I told him. “She hit you too.”
“Yeah, but not as hard.” Adrian laughed for a minute and then said, “Probably because you went all bad cop on her while I was nice.”
“Fuck you, Adrian.” My ire only made him laugh harder. I was glad I could give him something to laugh about after a morning of interviews that gave us more questions and suspects than what we started with. “Just for that, you get to tell Cap that we’ve got nothing to go on.”
It was my turn to laugh at Adrian’s misery, even more so when he returned from his solo trip to the captain’s office with his tail between his legs. “I was going to name my firstborn child after you, but you can fucking forget it now. I thought Gabriel or Gabriella Goode sounded like sweet names for a baby, but not anymore.”
I suspected that Adrian was just teasing me, but just the thought that I could possibly mean that much to him moved me more than I could say. Adrian had become more than just a partner to me, he was my best friend and my brother. “Nah, Sally Ann likes Josh better and we all know who the boss is in your home. You’ll be having a Josh or a Josephine.”
Adrian chuckled good-naturedly and I was glad to see the sting of the captain’s bite didn’t linger. “What do you have planned for tonight? Big date?”
“Not tonight,” I replied. “Josh is taking Meredith to see Phantom of the Opera in Cincinnati for her birthday.”
I didn’t want to think about how much I was going to miss him or examine the reasons why too closely. Things had been going great with us, but there was still the lingering worry that Josh would slip away from me somehow. I had always known that someone had hurt him badly in his past and I was starting to get bits and pieces from him–both intentionally and by accident when he let little things slip. I had to remind myself daily that he was skittish and needed to take things slow.
I finished out my day at work and went home to Buddy. I fixed a big pot of spaghetti so that I’d have enough for leftovers that weekend. I kicked up my feet and watched college basketball until I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer. Of course, I was wide awake once I got in bed. At first I was irritated, but that disappeared the second I received a text from Josh asking if I was still awake.
Yep! I doubted he was coming over because that would be three overnight visits in a row.
Good. I’ll meet you at the back door.
I moved faster than I thought I was still capable of in my haste to get to him. Play it cool. Don’t just rip his clothes off. Ask about his night. I had good intentions, I really did. But he reached down and cupped my crotch and it was game on. I ripped the buttons off another dress shirt, probably the replacement one I bought him for Christmas, right there in my kitchen. It wasn’t until the next morning that I even remembered to ask about his evening, but my dick was in his mouth and it was just rude to ask questions when someone had their mouth full.
Of course, I had to return the favor. I forgot about everything except making him curl his toes and yank my hair while I blew him. By the time I remembered again to have some fucking manners, Josh was already on his way home to get his day at the salon started. It might not have bothered a lot of guys, but it did me. From everything I had learned about his past so far, all he knew were men who wanted sex with him. I wasn’t that guy. I wanted more from Josh, so much more. The only way he would believe it was if I started acting like it. I needed a plan.
Saturdays at a salon are balls or tits–whatever you possess–to the wall. It’s the only day a lot of clients can get in and I rarely have cancellations. Of course, there’s always the one client you wish would cancel. It was just my luck that I had that particular client the morning after I stayed out late with my best girl then fooled around with my best guy for another hour or longer before I got to sleep. I might have been tired, but the gritty eyes and sore body were worth it.
Then she walked into my salon and I could feel all my happiness fading. Delaney “The Dragon” Sampson, as she was known to any kid who had her as a high school teacher, was a force to be reckoned with. She looked down her nose at my flamboyant style during my teenage years and I often got a homophobic vibe from her. Of course, she never said anything to me because my mother would have destroyed her, but that didn’t mean she kept her opinions to herself at home in front of her family. I had often wondered if she was the reason why Billy hated himself and the attraction he felt for me. It took me a long time before I could look at her without seeing Billy, but I did it.
Over the years, Delaney moved up the ranks to principal and then later superintendent. She still had that watchful eye that didn’t miss a single thing. Her disdain for me had faded, but I felt it was more because I held her hair in my hands rather than any enlightenment on her part. She reminded me of people who mistrusted, or just flat out didn’t like, African Americans unless they played sports or sang songs that they liked. In the same vein, gay men were okay if they were helping decorate a house, baking goods, or styling hair, but open-mindedness often disappeared when the same gay men starting demanding things like equal rights. Gasp! It didn’t make them any less racist or homophobic, but they convinced themselves otherwise. Maybe I was being too harsh, but I’d seen enough shit slung my way because of who I was attracted to and at Meredith for the color of her skin.
“Good morning, Mrs. Sampson,” I said with a cheerfulness I didn’t feel. She wasn’t the only one who could fake it, unless we were talking about sex. I didn’t have to waste energy on phony orgasms because my man knew what he was doing, but I’d bet the same couldn’t be said about Mr. Sampson. He had Missionary Position Only and Two-Minute Man stamped all over his forehead. Oops, look at me with all my judgment.
“Joshua.” She was the only person on the planet who called me that. It was only slightly better than the Joshy my mom still used sometimes. “I’m thinking about doing something different with my hair.”
“Really?” I asked, playing along. We went through this routine every eight weeks. She’d look at shorter hairstyles in my magazines and books while I talked about subtle changes she could make with her hair color. Each time she’d leave my salon with the same blonde football-helmet style that she arrived with. You could lead a bad hair case to the chair but you couldn’t make them change their hairstyle.
“What do you think about this one?” She held up the same picture she chose every visit.
As I always did, I said… Nope! I no longer feared veering away from my expected routine and responses. Instead, I was honest. “I don’t like that cut for you. It does nothing to show off your heart-shaped face or the pretty shape of your eyes.” Her gaze locked with mine in the mirror and I saw the surprise in her bright blue eyes. “I suspect you don’t really like your current style either or you would not have talked about changing it every visit for the last five years. You’re the kind of woman who knows what she wants and sets out to get it everywhere except when it comes to your hair. Can I show you which cut would look best with your features and shape of your face?”
She stared blankly at me in the mirror for a few minutes before she nodded imperceptibly. I turned the page and showed her a haircut that was similar to the one she chose, but the layers were longer and subtler. She flipped back and forth between the pages to carefully study the two different styles. I was prepared for her to tell me to just do the usual color and trim, but she shocked me when she said, “Let’s do it.” She pointed to the picture of the cut I suggested. “I also want to do that thing you suggested with the colors.”
“Dimensional coloring?” I stood up straighter and felt a little perkier at the thought of doing something new for her. I loved clients who were all like “fuck it, le
t’s try something new.” I clapped my hands when she nodded. “Let me show you all the various colors I have so you can tell me what you’re comfortable with.” Interior designers had swatches of fabrics and carpets, I had hair samples for every dye color I offered.
“Is this too dark?” Delany asked. She ran her finger over a sample several shades darker than her current color.
“I will only be using it to make the blonde pop more.” I found the exact colors the model used in the picture she liked then pointed out where the darker colors were used and how natural it looked.
“I love it, Joshua. You’ve been telling me this for years, but I’m not good with change anywhere but my career.” It was the most human response and reaction I had ever seen from her.
“Most people aren’t,” I replied honestly.
Delaney settled herself in the chair while I went and mixed the dye for her hair. I was thankful that she wasn’t one for a lot of small talk because I honestly didn’t want to talk about her son. I could go the rest of my life without seeing or talking to him and be perfectly happy. When I returned to my station, I saw that Delaney was talking on her cellphone.
“I’m at the salon right now, but I’d love to watch the kids for you when I get home. I’m sure you and Laura could use a night out.” My stomach sank because I knew who she was talking to. I just crossed my fingers that my name wouldn’t be brought up. “Maybe you can drop them off to me when I’m done.” Her eyes connected with mine in the mirror. “How long would you say before we’re finished, Joshua?”
Damn it! “Two hours, give or take fifteen minutes or so.”
Delaney broke eye contact with me as I started to work on her hair. “I should be done around four o’clock. Where are you two lovebirds heading?” I tried not to let her words make me sick. I wasn’t sure who I felt worse for–Billy or his wife. It didn’t take much thinking for me to choose Laura. “Yes, Joshua from high school. He has his own salon. It’s lovely and he’s wildly successful.” There was a pause as she listened. “He’s been doing my hair for years. In fact, he’s finally convinced me to do something different with my hair. We’re thinking red!” Delaney busted into laughter at whatever reaction Billy had. “Just kidding. We’re just changing up the color a bit and I’ve chosen a new hairstyle.” She paused again to listen. “I love you too, son. Yes, I’ll tell Joshua hello from you.”
Welcome to Blissville Page 29
