Running On Empty (Fleur de Lis Book 2)

by A. L. Vincent

  “I took this and made you a charm. Whenever you feel like you need a little faith in yourself, remember Semper Fi. Always faithful.”

  Grace took a final drag off the cigarette and stubbed it out.

  “I don’t know what to say,” she said. “I can’t imagine what you’ve been through. But thank you. For everything.”

  “You’re welcome. I don’t talk about it much,” he said. “Maybe this will help you.”

  After that they fell into the comfortable silence that was now their morning habit. A little bit of conversation, then a lot of silence. Grace reopened the journal, hoping the words would continue to flow. She would sing again, and she would sing the words she had written.

  ***

  Grace nursed a cup of coffee and looked at the clock on the classroom wall. The clock was the only adornment on the beige walls. She still had not done anything to make the room her own.

  She had about five minutes before her first class came in. She needed the extra caffeine, as that class was something else. She was glad she was off first hour, then started with them and got them out of the way. They had been more unruly than usual. Homecoming was fast approaching. The big parade float competition had all the classes talking trash to each other. Grace wanted to see her kids win. They were the constant underdogs, the smallest class, the misfits, but they had the biggest heart. Grace was always a sucker for the underdog.

  They had been working tirelessly after school to get the float ready. Grace had helped as much as she could, but really the sponsors weren’t supposed to help. They had chosen an ’80s theme, which she loved. She had heard most of the other classes had chosen fishing and hunting themes. Or themes based on popular shows. She was glad that her class had chosen something different.

  The bell rang, and soon the students began taking their seats.

  “Ms. Delchamp, are you staying after school again today so we can work on our float?” one student asked as he walked in.

  “Yes. I have a faculty meeting, but I’ll be there when we finish.” Grace wanted to see them win so badly that she didn’t even mind staying an extra hour or two after work.

  “Awesome.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Jean Wayne said. “We’re not going to win anyway.”

  Jean Wayne was one of the few seniors in English III. He always had to stir the pot and put his two cents in.

  Grace rolled her eyes before adding, “We’ll see about that, won’t we?”

  “It’s how it is. We’re not seniors, and seniors always win. It’s tradition.”

  “So, what you’re saying is the seniors could take a float out with absolutely nothing on it but people, and you guys would still win?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  “That’s stupid,” Grace said. “You guys should do something to change that.”

  “That’s the way it is.”

  “Some things need to change.” She smiled. “You guys are the rebels.”

  “We are. But still, you can’t fight tradition,” another student spoke up.

  Grace shook her head. This was exactly why she had not been a big participant in high school functions. She did what she had to do to get by and played gigs on the weekend. The announcements ended the conversation.

  “So, Ms. Delchamp,” Jean Wayne said when the announcements were over, “I read on Twitter that you used to be a lead singer for a band in New Orleans on Bourbon Street!”

  “Is that right?” Grace asked.

  “That’s what I heard.”

  “Ah, the lovely Twitter Queens,” Grace said, resisting the urge to roll her eyes again. “I’m not going to lie. Yes, my background is music, and yes, I sing and play bass. And yes, I did play on Bourbon Street.”

  “That’s badass!” another student exclaimed. “You should sing for us sometime. You could sing on our float for the homecoming parade! It would be epic! Something Pointe Shade has never seen!”

  Grace’s stomach tightened. If she hadn’t lost her voice, she would volunteer to sing on the float. Wouldn’t that turn some heads? She could do a medley. Some Joan Jett, Pat Benatar, Lita Ford. A little song from Footloose. That would be hilarious.

  “Watch your mouth,” Grace said. “And no. I’m out of the band business for now. Speaking of bands, let’s talk big bands and the 1920s. If you’ll open your Gatsby books, we’ll get started. We will be reading about bands and booze today.”

  “Ms. Delchamp,” a student said, “are you sure we should be reading this? My grandma said it’s putting ideas in our heads about drinking and promiscuity.”

  “These ideas were in the twenties. It’s history. I don’t see the problem,” Grace said. “Now let’s get started.”

  ***

  “And that’s it for today, guys and girls,” Grace told the last class after they had finished their reading for the day. Her last class was the girly girls. Complete opposites from Grace, except for their drive. They finished their work early daily. She was convinced if she gave them a lesson plan and book, they could teach themselves.

  As always when they were finished, the talk turned to the most important event for high school students that time of year. Homecoming. Who was going to be on the court this year? Who was going to be queen and ride in that convertible wearing the white dress and crown?

  Again, they were complete opposites from Grace, who would rather die than be put in heels and a flouncy dress. Grace shook her head and grabbed her phone. She leaned back in her chair and put her booted feet up on the desk.

  Grace: They’re talking about homecoming again.

  Gabe: Lol. I can see you rolling your eyes.

  Grace: Yes.

  One of the girls said, “I heard Precious bought the vote, if you know what I mean.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me,” said another with a raise of one perfectly contoured eyebrow.

  Grace shook her head again. Precious Mouton was the local preacher’s daughter. She fit the stereotype well. She posted on social media regularly about God, religion, and overall general damnation, but had the offline reputation of a Bourbon Street hooker. Grace had heard that Precious had mentioned her on Twitter on more than one occasion. She had also heard that Ms. Benoit had made a few comments about her as well about being a proper role model and rebellious tendencies. Grace didn’t give a damn about any of it.

  All homecoming talk ended as the final bell rang. After the students filed out, Grace grabbed her backpack and keys. It was time to go to the school library for the faculty meeting. She took her normal spot in the back of the room. Being a new teacher, she hadn’t become part of a group yet. As most of the faculty had been here for years, there was a definite grouping of people. The coaches sat at one table, reading the paper and talking sports. There was another group of teachers at another table who had grown up in the town. Grace’s table in the back consisted of the odds and ends, the people who hadn’t graduated from the school or been there long enough to be accepted as one of their own. The only thing new was the presentation projected on the board behind the principal that read Homecoming.

  Thank goodness it was Thursday and the week was almost over, she thought. She just had to make it one more day.

  Grace grabbed her journal and earbuds out of the backpack, deciding to doodle and go over lyrics she had written and brainstorm other lines while she waited for the meeting to begin. She put one bud in so she could hear what was going on, and she continued to scribble in the notebook.

  Mr. Comeaux walked in and took his normal faculty meeting place at the front of the room, and the quiet chitchat in the room ceased.

  “Good afternoon,” he said. He continued with a few general announcements about homecoming scheduling and other school business. “Now, Ms. Benoit would like to make a presentation.”

  She took the place in the front of the room. “Thank you Mr. Comeaux. As you all know, the students are gearing up for homecoming.”

  She pointed the remote to start the slideshow
. The first slide was a picture of Leonardo DiCaprio playing Jay Gatsby in The Great Gatsby movie holding a glass of champagne in a toast. Grace had seen the pic all over social media. What she’d never seen before, however, was the big red circle with a slash on it. Like a no smoking sign, but this symbolized no fun.

  Ms. Benoit looked at Grace. “As I said, homecoming is coming up, and we all know what that means for our young adults. It is our job to instruct them and guide them to proper behavior.”

  All eyes in the room turned to look at Grace as well. Grace shrugged. She leaned back in the chair. Still looking Ms. Benoit in the eye, she raised her water bottle in a toast. She smiled and shook her head.

  It’s going to be one long year, Grace thought again.

  Chapter Twenty

  The spotlight was on Grace, the heat and the light surrounding her in a warm glow. Her head lowered, she waited for her cue as the music began playing.

  It was time. She opened her mouth to sing but no words would come out. Her eyes widened as she looked out at the expectant crowd. She tried again. Still nothing. Her heart pounded and pulse raced as she tried in vain to make some kind of sound.

  Nothing.

  “I told you, you will never sing again,” Brent said from behind her.

  Grace broke out in a cold sweat at the sound of his voice. He moved closer. Grace could feel his body pressed against her back.

  Grace turned, his presence so close it made her want to run out the nearest door, but she didn’t. She looked him in the eye.

  “Yes, Brent. I will sing again, I promise you that. I promise me that.” She shoved the microphone at him and walked away, leaving him alone on the stage in silence.

  ***

  Grace walked into Snapper’s after work. Ryder had sent a text earlier to meet him to celebrate. He hadn’t said what the celebration was for, but apparently it was good news because Noah was there, along with Glinda and Daniel. Gabe was there too. She returned his smile before sitting down beside him, despite the funky mood she found herself in that night.

  “How was your day?” he asked.

  “I survived and so did the others,” she said. Fridays were always interesting, especially with pep rallies and class rivalry. The faculty meeting with Ms. Benoit, her nightmare, and the kids asking that morning again for her to sing had left her nerves fragile and raw.

  “That doesn’t sound good,” Gabe said.

  She shook her head. “I just need a couple of drinks and to forget about it for a while.” She turned to Ryder. “What’s this big news?” she asked him.

  He smiled. “You’ll see.”

  Allison joined them then, Kevin behind her. Carly greeted them, then went to play DJ on the jukebox. A few of the guys grouped around the pool table, and the girls took spots by the bar.

  “So, how’s the writing coming along?” Grace asked Carly when she came back.

  “It’s going. I’m about to send out my weekend test text.”

  “Your what?” Allison asked.

  “My test text,” Carly said. “I started it two years ago when I was writing All I Want for Christmas is a Real Good Man. When I haven’t been on a date in a while, I send out a general message to all the single men in my phone and see who responds. If I’m not dating, I can’t write a dating book!”

  Grace shook her head. “And then?”

  “Then I go from there,” Carly said. “I journal about it. And hopefully, go on a date.”

  Carly just doesn’t get it, Grace thought.

  Carly looked at Allison. “I saw you walk in with Kevin. Did you guys come together?”

  “No, we just happened to drive up at the same time.”

  “He’s single, you know,” Carly said with a wink. Then looked at Grace. “And so is Gabe.”

  “Ryder is single too,” Grace said to Allison. “So is Joey.”

  Grace smiled at Carly and her face clouded over. Good, Grace thought. Maybe it was time matchmaker Carly got a dose of her own medicine.

  “I think it’s time for that text,” Carly said, frowning.

  Emily arrived next. After a brief stop by Noah to give him a quick hello, she joined the girls.

  “How’s it going?” Carly asked.

  “Business is good. I brought some food I made for client samples today. I’ll get the guys to unload it in a little bit.”

  “Food? Did I hear food?” Ryder sat on Emily’s lap and shoved his black cowboy hat on her head. “So, Ms. Emily, any potato salad on the menu today?”

  Emily smiled and smacked him on the arm. “It’s samples for my Thanksgiving menu. Potato salad has nothing to do with Thanksgiving.”

  “It does if it involves getting naked.” Ryder flashed her a grin. “I’m always thankful when I’m around a naked woman.”

  Emily shook her head and pushed him off her lap. “Go on, there are single women around.”

  “But they aren’t cooking for me.”

  Emily handed him the hat back and stood up. “I’m going to get the guys to unload the van.”

  Ryder moved down to Allison. “What about you? Wanna get naked and throw potato salad?”

  Allison shook her head and laughed. “I’m good.”

  “I bet you are. So am I.” He grinned and raised one dark eyebrow.

  She socked him in the arm too, saying, “That’s not what I meant.”

  He donned his hat again and nodded to the ladies. “Anyone else?”

  They all shook their heads.

  He sighed. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”

  He tipped his hat and left to help the guys unload Emily’s van. When everything was brought in, he came back to Grace.

  “Come see,” he said. “I’m going to tell you my news first.”

  He led her to a spot in the corner, away from the crowd and the noise. He put his hand on her arm. “I got a job offer today. It’s a good opportunity. And a raise.”

  “That’s great!” Grace exclaimed, and hugged him.

  “But,” he said, and Grace’s stomach flip-flopped.

  “But?”

  “I have to go to Houston. For weeks at a time.”

  Grace stopped breathing for a moment, the pain in her chest so overwhelming. “You’re leaving.”

  “I have to. I can’t pass it up. Who knows when another job offer will come up?”

  Grace sucked in a breath, knowing he was right. She could do this. She could handle him being gone.

  “I’m happy for you,” she said, and hugged him again. “It’s just Houston.”

  He lifted her chin up to look at him. “Grace, I’ll still be here for you, you know that.”

  She felt the sting of tears but blinked them away. “I know.” She laid her head on his chest for a moment. “I’m still going to miss you though,” she said when she lifted her head.

  “I know,” he said, his cheeky smile back in place.

  She punched him in the chest. “Ass. I’m going back over there with the others.”

  A slow ’80s power ballad started playing on the jukebox. Perfect for slow dancing. Carly’s doing of course. Grace wondered who she would try to pair up for this one.

  “Wanna dance?” Gabe asked as she returned to her seat.

  She nodded. “Sure.”

  They joined Emily, Noah, Joey, Carly, and, surprisingly, Allison and Kevin on the small dance floor.

  She moved along to the slow beat, enjoying the comfort of Gabe’s embrace. As he felt her relax, he moved closer. Grace stiffened in reflex and missed a step. His disappointed sigh only served to intensify her general bad mood. Why couldn’t she just enjoy this dance? Why did she have to add “can’t dance with Gabe” to the growing list of things she couldn’t do anymore. Sing, sleep, function as a normal woman, and enjoy an attractive guy’s embrace.

  The now awkward and stiff dance finally ended and Grace returned to her seat. She ordered a shot and another drink. She turned away from the group to face the bar, sipping her drink. The bartender returned with t
he shot, and she gulped it down, feeling the burn all the way down. She slammed the glass down on the bar.

  “You okay?” Gabe asked as he resumed his seat beside her.

  “I am going to sing tonight, damn it,” she said.

  His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Okay. What are you going to sing?”

  “I don’t know yet. Where are those books?”

  “I’ll get you one.”

  Grace ordered another shot as he disappeared to retrieve a karaoke book for her. He returned and sat the big binder in front of her.

  “Want me to sing with you?”

  She shook her head. “No. I need to do this. On my own.”

  He nodded, and reached out to run his hand up her arm. “You got this, Grace.”

  She flipped through the pages, looking for a song. Looking for something that didn’t bring up any memories or feelings. She settled on an old Stevie Nicks tune. She wrote it down and dropped it off at the karaoke table.

  She resumed her seat and waited for the song playing to finish. While she waited, she gave herself a mental pep talk. She could do this. All she had to do was open her mouth and let the words come out. It wasn’t hard. She had done it hundreds of times.

  The final notes of the song faded out, and the DJ was announcing her name.

  She took a deep breath and walked with her head high to the stage.

  She took the mic in hand, enjoying the familiar feel of the metal. She kept her gaze on the TV screen, waiting for her cue to sing. The white letters of the song title and artist flashed on the blue screen and Grace took a deep breath. Breathe in, breathe out, she told herself.

  The title screen disappeared and the lyrics appeared on the screen.

  Grace opened her mouth to sing the first few words. Nothing would come out. Horrified, she looked out at the crowd. Her heart beat faster, as her mind locked up. The concern on her friends’ faces only made it worse. She tossed the mic to the DJ.

  Enraged, Grace turned and ran out the side door of the bar, took a few steps, and stopped. She looked up at the sky, the cold air cutting through her lungs as she took in deep breaths. The pain of the cold actually felt better than the pain she felt inside.