Everything But

by Jade C. Jamison

  EVERYTHING BUT

  (Tangled Web)

  Jade C. Jamison

  Everything But

  High school English teacher Erin Lancaster is stuck with the unwelcome job of filling in for the injured cheerleading coach, but she wants to back out when she discovers she has to be auctioned as a date during the annual spring fundraiser. She’s horrified to find her rock star crush Riley Schultz will be playing emcee for the event, but she’s even more shocked when he also happens to be the highest bidder for her affections, and sparks fly when she discovers that maybe their attraction is mutual. Will one week together be enough for them to quell the flames, to enjoy everything but?

  “All right, can I get a bid of twenty-five dollars for Winchester High’s English maven Erin Lancaster?”

  Erin started laughing, afraid she was becoming hysterical, giggling just like the cheerleaders had moments earlier. She knew it was because everything was heightened, what with being on display and all, but it seemed like forever before anyone made a bid. Shit. That would be the ultimate humiliation. Not even a twenty-five dollar bid. But finally Ron Gill’s hand went in the air. And she wasn’t sure what to think about that. Ron was nice enough but they’d butted heads quite a few times during faculty meetings. They had different ideas. They were supposed to agree on a Shakespeare play every year. Ron was supposed to have his students study it in Drama II and she had to dissect it with her seniors in Honors English, but it was almost as if Ron just wanted to pick a fight. If she said Julius Caesar, he’d insist upon Macbeth. If one of the history teachers jumped in and asked about Henry V, he’d dig in his heels and demand Othello. If she wanted to focus on a comedy that year, he’d demand drama. He was infuriating.

  And then it hit her. He was like a boy in middle school, picking fights because…he liked her. Oh, God. Why hadn’t she ever seen it before? And…he was a nice enough guy. But he really wasn’t her type.

  And, again, just whom did she think she was kidding? The last guy she’d fallen for, a bad boy at that, had crushed her so badly she’d sworn off men forever. So…let him bid. She’d enjoy dinner with him and then go home. She just hoped she could earn at least a little more than twenty-five bucks.

  “Can we get fifty?” This question was followed again by a few moments’ silence until she heard another voice booming in the back.

  “Five-hundred.”

  Erin was certain she hadn’t heard correctly. Her eyes scanned the crowd, unable to find the face that owned the voice.

  John said into the microphone, “Was that five-hundred?”

  She saw someone step forward. “Five-hundred.”

  Fuck. It was Riley Schultz. What the hell? She felt all her composure melt away. What was that she’d been thinking about him being an arrogant dick earlier? She looked down at him as he got closer to the stage and tried to smile, but instead she knew her mouth was just hanging open, in shock.

  “Whoa, dude,” John said into the microphone. He looked back out at the crowd. “Um…can I get five-fifty?”

  And the rest was a blur. Riley Schultz won the bid, spending more money than anyone else had, and she had no idea what to say or do. But at least she’d finally managed to smile.

  BOOKS BY JADE C. JAMISON

  Tangled Web: A Steamy Heavy Metal Novella

  Stating His Case

  Fabric of Night

  Worst Mother

  MADversary

  Then Kiss Me

  Everything But (Tangled Web)

  NICKI SOSEBEE SERIES

  1 Got the Life

  2 Dead

  3 No Place to Hide

  4 Right Now

  5 One More Time

  6 Lost

  7 Innocent Bystander

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2012 by Jade C. Jamison

  Cover image © Jade C. Jamison

  All rights reserved.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Visit Jade’s website:

  http://www.jadecjamison.com

  Follow Jade on Twitter:

  http://twitter.com/@JadeCJamison

  Send Jade an email:

  jadecjamison@gmail.com

  Like Jade on Facebook:

  http://facebook.com/JadeCJamisonAuthor

  for Sorel,

  the other pea in my pod

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-one

  Chapter Forty-two

  Also by Jade C. Jamison

  Chapter One

  ERIN LANCASTER WALKED down the tiled hall as quickly as her black pumps would allow without sliding and spectacularly landing on her ass, causing the papers held to her chest to fly everywhere. She’d come close once or twice on these polished floors and had since learned to walk with caution when wearing high heels.

  She knew she had to stop the feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach, the one that was causing her to want to race down the hall. It’s only for a little while, she told herself. But while she knew the next month or two were temporary, she couldn’t help but feel mismatched for the job.

  See, Erin was a high school English teacher. There wasn’t anything fancy about it. She’d earned her bachelor’s degree in secondary ed and English, one of her first loves. So she’d come back home and applied at her local high school for a job. The first year back, there were no openings and so she worked as a substitute while working nights at the movie theater, but she got a job a year later, one of a handful of English teachers at Winchester High School. She’d enjoyed the job itself and loved being back in her hometown with family and friends, and while she’d felt lately like something was missing from her life, it was not that her secret desire was to be a cheerleading coach.

  Hell no.

  In fact, when she’d been in high school herself, she’d despised those girls. Well, not all of them. But most of them seemed to be preoccupied with their looks and boys instead of their educations. They’d also been the nasty girls who’d laugh at other females not as fortunate in the looks department or play mean tricks on some of the more awkward young women in the school.

  Erin tried to remind herself that maybe this would be her opportunity to make a positive impact on these impressionable souls. As she rounded the corner to the gym, her long blonde hair bobbing with every step, she took a deep breath, willing herself to believe
that she could be a good influence on these young ladies.

  “Oh, my God, Brenda. She was wearing what?”

  “Seriously. She was wearing that stupid blue floral dress that looks like a pioneer apron.”

  “Better than that gunny sack she wears at least once every other week.”

  “God. Does she not own anything else?”

  Or…not. Erin forced the breath into her lungs as she tried not to miss a beat. And there they were, all twelve of them huddled on the bleachers, oblivious to anyone who might be eavesdropping. Erin couldn’t decide if she wanted to chide them for their cattiness or pretend she hadn’t heard it.

  Well, considering she’d only been doing this since Monday and had barely learned the girls’ names, let alone their personalities, she decided she’d let it slide. For now. She wasn’t going to let that shit go once they all felt more comfortable with each other.

  “All right, ladies. Do you all have your gowns for Friday night?”

  There was some mumbling, some hands raised in the air, but Erin realized that had been a stupid way to ask her question. “If you don’t have a gown, raise your hand, please.”

  One of the girls, a sophomore who was a first-year cheerleader, raised her hand. “Miss Lancaster, I’m not sure what kind of gown to get.”

  Rainy, the loud blonde head cheerleader, swiveled on the bench and looked up at the young girl. “Haven’t you ever seen the auction?”

  The young girl shook her head. “I didn’t go last year. There was no reason to.”

  Brenda, Rainy’s dark-haired best friend, turned as well. “Think Prom or Homecoming, only not so formal.”

  “Yeah…like you can wear something strappy. In fact, the sexier it is, the more money you can earn.”

  Jesus. Erin fought to say nothing. It felt enough like slavery or prostitution as it was, this stupid auction tradition, but to hear Rainy describe it made it sound even worse…the more skin the girls bared, the more money they could “earn.” She made sure she didn’t shudder.

  And whose bright idea had this stupid auction been anyway? It hadn’t been a tradition back when she’d gone to school…had it? But once a year near the beginning of May (just after prom), the cheerleaders held an event where they were “auctioned” out for dates. The “date” was a dinner hosted by the school, catered by a local restaurant, followed by a small dance, all in the very same gym where they were talking, and it all took place the night after the auction.

  It was stupid.

  But, Erin had to admit, when she’d found out how much money the auction made, she had to admit it wasn’t a bad idea. The girls used this fundraiser to pay for their annual summer camp. “Much better than a carwash,” Rainy had said on Monday when they were briefing Erin about her new job.

  The girls started chattering again about shoes and jewelry and Erin couldn’t help but tune them out. Only two of these girls had been in her English classes, and Erin knew why. She’d been branded as a “hard” teacher, probably because she taught two honors classes, so she knew a lot of the cheerleaders had steered clear.

  Damn Mrs. Carmichael. The woman—the French teacher—had been the cheerleading coach even back when Erin had attended school here. But last weekend she’d injured herself on a ski slope. The woman had said in the staff meeting earlier that week that she was going to go skiing one last time before the slopes were closed…just had to get in one more day. And Erin still wasn’t clear about how the woman had actually injured herself, only knew that she’d fucked up one of her legs so badly, she had a cast from the top of her thigh to the toes on her right leg. Mr. Becker, the principal, had told Erin that Mrs. Carmichael wasn’t even walking yet. So he’d asked Erin if she could finish out the spring and possibly spend some time with the cheerleaders over the summer to get them ready for camp.

  Erin was reluctant, but Mr. Becker had always been good to her. She was certain he was the main reason why she’d gotten the job, and he did his best to make sure she had what she needed in the classroom. And while she hadn’t been a fan of Carmichael, the girls needed someone…and no one else seemed interested. Still, Erin considered turning him down, but he mentioned that she’d get a stipend on her checks for being the substitute cheer coach…for a month or so, maybe until August or September at the latest.

  As the girls started bickering about which girl would be auctioned first, Erin took another deep breath, preparing to tell them to all quiet down. August or September wouldn’t be soon enough.

  Chapter Two

  GODDAMN. RILEY SCHULTZ couldn’t remember the last time he’d stepped into the Winchester High School gymnasium, but he figured it had to have been sometime near the end of his senior year…so, twelve years ago, give or take, if he’d calculated it correctly. And he’d never planned to ever walk into his school again, but his life had taken some weird turns over the last few years, things he hadn’t counted on.

  He’d made sure to dress the part. They were expecting the big bad rock star, so that’s what they’d get. He had on his black Ray-Bans, tight leather pants, and a red sleeveless t-shirt designed to expose the tattoos on his arms. He couldn’t spike his reddish-brown hair the way he knew his fans would expect it to look because he’d been growing it out. It was just past his chin now and lots of girls had told him it was sexy, so he was keeping it longer and messy for now until he got sick of it. But he put on his trademark, the dog tags he’d worn ever since his first photo shoot. He’d even shaved off the two or three days’ accumulation of facial hair, redefining the soul patch on his lower lip that seemed to drive the women wild.

  But while he dressed the part, he didn’t feel it. Not at all.

  And he really didn’t want to go through with the plan, either, but he’d promised. Besides, his new band’s CD had several months before release. They’d just finished recording and now it was being mixed. Riley wanted no part of that bullshit. Their manager was putting together a touring schedule and, sometime this week, their new single would be on the radio. So, for now, he was in a lull and had time.

  But why had he agreed to do this? Why? Because his mother had asked him, and he’d wanted to make her happy. She hadn’t demanded it, had instead mentioned that the school was “doing” its annual cheerleader auction. Riley hadn’t remembered them doing that that back when he’d gone to school, but then again he’d been too busy drinking, smoking weed, and sniffing out pussy to have participated in lame events like that. But she’d said the auction probably wasn’t going to do as well as it had in the past because the coach had injured herself the week before. Apparently, she’d been the perfect emcee, and the school was convinced that her talents were what had led to the auction being a great fundraiser. The school had a substitute coach, but the poor girl had no clue what she was doing and had never participated in the auction before. Riley’s mother was on the school board and suggested maybe her famous son, charismatic on stage, could lead the proceedings. And then she asked Riley if he’d do it…after she’d made the principal excited about the prospect.

  Riley’s career as a heavy metal vocalist had left his parents beyond disappointed, so when he’d first agreed to it, he thought it was nice that his mother could find something to appreciate about his career, even if she never would like his music.

  But now he saw that it had just been a knee-jerk reaction to what he’d perceived as acceptance. After all, it wasn’t like he was going to be performing at the auction.

  Well, he would be, but it would be as an actor.

  So he walked into the gym, looking for a man in a beige suit as his mother had advised. That person would be the theater guy, the one who’d set up the stage and lights. Riley spotted him and, as he closed the gap, he forced his brain to pull up the guy’s name…Gill, Gall? He couldn’t remember. Or maybe it started with a D. The guy saw him coming and smiled, starting to extend a hand in greeting when Riley heard to the left, “Oh, my God! It’s true! It’s Riley Schultz. Oh, my God, I love Spawn!” Three girls ran up t
o him and he knew it was just the beginning of a swarm.

  Nothing new. Riley had grown used to it. He’d learned to disguise himself when he needed to—baseball caps to hide the hair, long-sleeved shirts to cover the tattoos, no jewelry, and sunglasses would allow him to walk around unnoticed most times. But, of course, they’d been banking on his name tonight, so he hadn’t covered himself at all.

  Riley knew how to charm the girls. He spent a couple of minutes chatting them up and signing autographs while more and more people started to gather around. The theater guy finally intervened. “All right, gang, break it up. You can talk to Mr. Schultz later.”

  Riley almost laughed. Mister…if this guy only knew how anti-authority Riley was, he’d know Riley never wanted to have that sort of title. He much preferred Metal God.

  Now, though, he wasn’t sure he even wanted that. He shook hands with the theater teacher, avoiding calling him by name, thereby announcing he’d forgotten. One of the kids on his tech crew called him Mr. Gill, so Riley wouldn’t have to worry anymore. Better yet, Mr. Gill insisted that Riley call him Ron. Basically, Riley would be reading off note cards to introduce each of the girls, but even beforehand, the co-captains of the football team were giving a PowerPoint presentation full of pictures of the cheerleading squad together, along with separate pictures of each young woman. Then Riley would take over, playing emcee-slash-auctioneer.

  Gill was bending his ear, trying to impress Riley with his stage, lights, and sound setup, but Riley just kind of wished he was curled up on his mom’s couch, riding a high, watching DVDs. Hell, if he’d been smart, he would’ve smoked a bowl before attending this shindig. Too late now. Gill finally showed Riley where he could hang out next to the stage until it was his time to shine. Riley sat in a chair next to the platform and looked out over the audience. And then it hit him. It was in this same fuckin’ place he’d begun the path he was on now. He and four of his buddies had participated in a Battle of the Bands during his senior year in high school. Looking out over the audience now, he wondered why he hadn’t been freaked out. But then he remembered. Part of his calmness was thanks to his overwhelming confidence; part of it was because of several swigs from a bottle of Jack Daniel’s, his drink of choice back in the day.