by Lynn Cooper
“Yes, ma’am,” I say, grinning at the orderly’s dumbfounded facial expression. If a person doesn’t know Hazel, she can be quite a shock to the system.
Sitting alone in the little exam room, I take my phone out of my purse and check it for any texts or voice messages. Disappointment engulfs me, sucking all the oxygen from my lungs. The big, round, black-and-white clock on the wall tells me I am already a good half hour late for first period—my art class with Rhett. I can’t understand why he hasn’t called to check on me. Shouldn’t he be missing me by now? Or, at the very least, be worried about the Subaru not starting?
I’m acting like a horny high school girl with a ridiculous crush on her teacher. But I know it’s way more than that. Rhett and I have a true and deep connection. I don’t think I have been misreading him. But the truth is, I’ve never had a serious boyfriend or even a meaningless romantic tryst. So maybe I have things all wrong. Maybe Mr. Calder doesn’t want to see me as much as I want to see him. Maybe he’s relieved I didn’t show up today. Maybe all of his pretense about taking care of my basic needs was just that—pretense. A moment of temporary insanity where he fancied playing hero to the poor, abandoned, chubby girl. God, I feel so stupid and rejected and embarrassed. I wish I never had to go back to that school.
With nothing to do but wait, I click on one of my favorite art apps, Doodle Buddy. If I can’t be in class, I can at least draw on my phone. I need to keep my mind busy. To distract myself from thinking about Rhett and wondering what he is doing right now.
Chapter Ten
Rhett Calder
THE SECOND THE EARLY morning teachers meeting ends, I make a beeline for Miss Tonya Gramlett. She’s a newly-divorced English teacher who reeks of desperation, which I plan to use to my advantage. The tan line where her wedding ring used to be is still blatantly obvious. She’s probably only been single for a matter of weeks. I know she is likely vulnerable and definitely susceptible to my charms.
Earlier, I overheard Tonya talking to Mrs. Jane Parker—one of the history teachers—while she was pouring herself a cup of coffee. According to Tonya, she has first period free. And now that her nights are free, she is on the prowl, looking for a hot piece of man meat. Although I have no intention of hooking up with her, I do need someone to cover the first half of my first period class. I’ve never been a user but, in this instance, I am definitely going to play the part.
I called the front office on my way to work and asked for a sit-down with Principal Huntly. It’s scheduled to start in two minutes. I cannot be late. When I approach Tonya, I flash her a flirtatious smile.
She blushes and says, “Good morning, Mr. Calder. Don’t you look dashing in that outfit?”
I’m wearing my usual dark slacks, a light-colored button-up shirt and silk tie. I don’t imagine I look anymore dashing than I did yesterday or than I will tomorrow.
“Thank you, Miss Gramlett. I must say, you sure do make that dress look pretty.”
“Well, if you must, who am I to stop you?” she says, batting her short, sparse eyelashes while fanning her flushing face with a jittery hand. “Feel free to compliment me anytime you like.”
Nodding, I say, “You bet I will.”
“Oh, my, Mr. Calder. You’re going to make this southern girl swoon right here in the hallway.”
Reluctantly, I reach out and touch her shoulder. I don’t want to lay this on too thick. It’s not my goal to woo her. I just need her to watch my students for half an hour. “Don’t you dare faint. I need you conscious to cover the first part of my class.”
She frowns and turns her head to the side as if puzzled. I rush on before she can think too hard about what I’ve said. “That is, if you’re willing to do me a favor. And of course, I would owe you one in return. A big one,” I say, winking and hating myself for giving her false hope.
She takes a shaky breath as her eyes travel to my crotch. “I would be more than happy to help you out, Rhett.”
Oh shit! She moves fast. Only a few seconds ago I was Mr. Calder.
Glancing at my watch, I say, “Thanks, Miss Gramlett.” I make a point of keeping it professional. “My art class is in room 222. Principal Huntly is expecting me in her office right now. I promise not to be longer than necessary.”
“Don’t rush, Rhett. I’ll be right here waiting for you.”
I nod and walk away as fast as I can. Indebting myself to this lonely woman is a big mistake. I have a sick feeling I’m going to spend the rest of the school year fighting off her unwanted advances. As I turn the corner to the principal’s office, I remind myself Violet is worth it.
Sure, I could have scheduled this meeting during my free period or after school, but I wanted to get everything set up before seeing my star pupil this morning. She is going to be so surprised when I tell her about my plan for us to spend more time together. I’m going to spring it on her after class today.
NO MATTER THE REASON, stepping into the principal’s office always causes a case of nerves. Whether you are a student or teacher, there is a thread of trepidation that never goes away. Taking a seat across from Kathleen Huntly, I feel like I am staring into the face of Aunt Bee from the Andy Griffith Show. With her hair swept up into a loose bun, Principal Huntly has that same sweet, warm, grandmotherly face. Add to it an abundance of laugh lines, crow’s feet and a short, rotund body build and you’ve got Frances Elizabeth Bavier incarnate.
Leaning forward, she folds her fleshy, liver-spotted hands on her desk and asks, “What’s on your mind, Mr. Calder?”
“Violet Driscoll.” Shit! That didn’t sound good.
“Oh? Is she causing any problems in your class?”
Not in my classroom, in my pants.
“Not at all. It’s quite the opposite, actually,” I say, clearing my throat. “Violet has shown an extraordinary talent and aptitude for painting.”
Principal Huntly’s face relaxes, and she gives me one of those heartwarming, Aunt Bee smiles. “That’s wonderful news! I always enjoy positive reports on our students. I’m sure she will continue to excel under your guidance.”
“Yes, well that’s what I wanted to discuss with you,” I say, returning her smile and leaning forward in what has to be the most uncomfortable, straight-back chair ever made. “I don’t think Violet can reach her full potential as an artist within the confinement of regular class time. She needs and deserves one-on-one lessons.”
“I see.”
I can tell by her facial expression I am losing her. So I press on, not letting her finish whatever thought she was having.
“When you come across the kind of raw but exceptional talent Miss Driscoll possesses, it demands cultivation. I cannot help her to grow when my attention is split between her and twenty-nine other students.”
“So what are you suggesting?”
“With your approval, I am offering to give our prize pupil private lessons after school.”
She takes a deep breath and furrows her brow, causing me to worry. I don’t know if I can control my reaction if she says no.
“Mr. Calder, you’re new to Moon Crescent High and the small town of Robeton. Don’t get me wrong; we’re happy as a chicken in a bread pan picking out dough to have such an accomplished artist in our midst. But down here, things don’t work the same way as they do in the big city of New York.”
I can feel my fists clenching and force myself to relax. “If it’s a matter of money, it shouldn’t be. I’m not asking for any additional salary for this venture. And I plan on providing all the extra art supplies required for Violet’s lessons.”
She shakes her head slowly. “You misunderstand, Mr. Calder.”
“Please, call me Rhett.”
“Okay, Rhett. It’s not a matter of funds. It’s a matter of chatter.”
“What?”
She leans back in her well-padded desk chair, and I’m uncomfortably aware of her eyes traveling over my face and down my body before she speaks. “You’re a good-looking man, Rhett. In fa
ct, I’d say you are as exceptionally handsome as Violet is exceptionally talented. But no matter how much good you could do that girl, I can’t allow the two of you to be alone together in your classroom after school or even during school. If I did, tongues would be wagging faster than a beagle’s with a treed squirrel.”
Silently, I remind myself to maintain an even tone and be diplomatic. “Even we city boys get the concept of a rumor mill. And believe me, Principal Huntly, the last thing I want is to start those turbines to turning. However, I can’t in good conscience not do everything in my power to help Miss Driscoll. Under my instruction, she can become a master. Go to the finest art school in the country.”
“How? Violet doesn’t come from money. Her grades are no longer good enough to get a scholarship,” she says, closing her eyes dramatically before opening them again. “Two years ago, she was our best student. She was well on her way to being Valedictorian. After her father was tragically killed, her grades began to slip. She still performs way above average, but she’s no longer in contention. Now I hear her mother ran off a few months ago.” She sighs long and loud. “But there’s nothing the school or myself can do. Violet is eighteen. The law says she’s an adult and can live on her own. But don’t you make any mistake about it, Mr. Calder. As long as she is a student at this school, I and the rest of the community see her as a child. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Yes, ma’am. Which is why I was hoping you would approve my request. I’m sure no one would object to my helping Violet if we had a chaperone during her lessons. You see, I believe when our work together is finished, Violet will have the ability to financially support herself with her paintings. She won’t need a scholarship or a college degree to do that.”
Huntly’s face lights up. She clasps her hands together and says, “If you really believe she has such potential, then I guess we owe her the chance to prove it. I’ll speak to our security guard Jerome and see if he would be willing to swing by your classroom at intervals during his afterschool rounds. I think that should be sufficient enough to satisfy the school board.”
Standing, I reach across her desk and pat the still-interlaced fingers of her hands. “Thank you so much. I promise you won’t regret this.”
“I’m sure I won’t,” she says, flashing another one of those Aunt Bee smiles.
As I turn the knob on her office door, preparing to leave, she stops me. “One more thing, Rhett.”
“Yes?”
“The next time you want to see me, make sure it isn’t during class time.”
Nodding, I exit her office and hurry down the corridor toward my room. To the left, a few feet from my hallway, there’s a large, picture window overlooking the parking lot. I pause a second, perusing row after row of student vehicles. Violet’s Subaru isn’t among them. Icy fingers of panic and worry grip my throat. Ripping my phone from my pocket, I access the school’s database. Tonya Gramlett would have taken roll by now. Pulling up the online attendance sheet, I see she has marked my protégé absent.
Feeling like Principal Huntly has eyes on me, I duck into the teacher’s restroom out of the view of the security cameras. Once inside, I pull up Violet’s number.
Chapter Eleven
Violet Driscoll
AFTER HE DELIVERS THE best news I’ve heard in a long time, the orthopedic surgeon excuses himself. Hazel has been moved from the ER wing and is now resting comfortably in a regular room. Amazingly, she has no broken bones. According to the doctor, there is some deep-tissue bruising that will heal over the course of a few weeks.
He has ordered over-the-counter analgesics for the soreness. However, he won’t be releasing her until tomorrow. Since she bumped her head on the wall as she was falling, he thinks it best to keep Hazel overnight for observation. Apparently, a knock on the noggin can be more serious for older folks.
While she snoozes, I fill out the cafeteria card for her lunch and dinner order. Just as I finish circling a selection in the dessert section, my phone vibrates. When I see the caller ID, a smile breaks across my face so big and wide it’s almost painful.
Before I can make a sound, Rhett roars, “Where the hell are you?”
“At the hospital,” I say, knowing that short snippet of info will back his attitude-infused ass down quick enough.
“Shit. Are you okay? Never mind, I’m on my way.”
The panic and intense concern I hear in his voice makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I wasn’t wrong. He does care about me. “I’m fine, Rhett. Stay at school. I’m here with Hazel, the elderly neighbor I told you about. She had a nasty fall.”
“Thank God! I mean, I’m not thankful she fell. I’m just so damn glad you’re all right.”
I giggle. “I knew what you meant. Do you miss me?”
“Like fucking crazy. When I didn’t see the Subaru in the parking lot, I nearly lost my mind.”
“I’m confused. You’re only now noticing I’m not there. Your class started nearly half an hour ago.”
“I know. It’s a long story but a good one with a fantastic ending. I can’t wait to tell you all about it.”
“I can’t wait either, but I probably won’t see you until tomorrow morning.”
“Why? Is Hazel so bad off you can’t leave her?”
“No, she’s doing pretty well. Luckily, there were no fractures. She’s sleeping now.”
“In that case, get your beautiful butt back here.”
“I can’t. I rode to the hospital with her in the back of the ambulance. I don’t have my car or any cash for a taxi.”
“Damn it, Violet! I knew you needed money. Did you make out a list of bills like I told you to?”
“No.”
He growls low and deep in my ear, sending shivers of unadulterated desire straight to the heart of my most sacred lady part before saying, “Give me the address to the hospital. I’m sending someone to pick you up.”
“Who?”
“My buddy Hawk. He’ll take you back to your house so you can get your car and come on to school. If you make it by your next class, you’ll get credit for the day instead of an absence.”
“What if I refuse to go with him?”
“I’ll finish giving you the spanking I started yesterday.”
Feeling flirty and naughty, I say, “If you really mean that, Mr. Calder, there is no way in hell I’m going anywhere with Hawk.”
He laughs, and the musicality of it dances across my heartstrings, making it sing.
“You’ll do as I say, Miss Driscoll.”
“Fine, but only because I’m dying to see you.”
“That’s my good girl. Did you eat breakfast? And don’t lie to me.”
“No,” I mumble, feeling embarrassed. I really do need some groceries.
“I’ll have Hawk stop and pick up something on the way to the hospital. What would you like?”
“Anything’s fine.”
“No, it’s not. What do you want, Violet?”
Nothing much, just your heart, soul and undying love.
“A sausage biscuit with gravy and hash browns sounds heavenly. Oh, and a Dr. Pepper with lemon.”
“You got it. Let me go so I can get Hawk on his way to you,” he says, abruptly ending the call.
I wish Rhett would stop telling me to let him go. That’s one command I’ll never be able to obey.
STANDING OUTSIDE THE MAIN entrance to Robeton Memorial, my jaw drops at the sight of a shiny, red, convertible Corvette screeching to a halt only inches from the curb. A big, bulky, bearded man leans over, pushes open the passenger door and says, “Get in, girl.”
He doesn’t introduce himself, but I know this is the man known as Hawk. Even though he’s sitting, I can tell he is tall like Rhett. But where the man I adore has finely-sculpted muscles, this guy is all blunt and blocky. Not a person I would want to tangle with in a dark alley or even in the broad light of day.
Sliding onto the passenger seat is a little more challenging than I anticipated.
I didn’t realize what a lowrider this model of car was. Once situated, I swivel to face Hawk and extend my hand. “I’m Violet Driscoll.”
He grunts and shoves a brown paper takeout bag onto my lap. “You’re trouble with a capital T.”
His animosity fills my chest and the car with an unpleasant, palpable tension. The hunger pangs that were so prevalent moments ago disappear. I just want to go home, hop in my Subaru and get away from this rude, burly man.
The Corvette is meant for speed. Silently, I listen to the powerful growl of the engine as he winds it out on the straightaways. I’m fascinated by the graceful smoothness with which he shifts gears. The way Hawk handles his car stands out in stark contrast to the surly attitude with which he handled meeting me.
With the warm wind of late summer whipping my hair, I yell above all the traffic noise, “What’s your problem with me anyway?”
Gearing down, he turns onto my street. Rhett must have given him my address. Hawk doesn’t show any indication he heard my question until he pulls into my driveway and cuts the ignition.
“You’re no good for Rhett,” he says, reaching across my lap to pop open the glove compartment. He pulls out a stack of hundred dollar bills strapped together. The bank band has $25,000 stamped across the top.
Glaring at him in disbelief, I ask with a shaky voice, “What’s this?”
“Enough money for you to start over someplace else. Go on and take it. Leave this little, rinky-dink town behind you. Leave my friend alone.”
Tears sting my eyes, pissing me off. I hate that a perfect stranger has the ability to insult me and make me feel sad while doing it.
I sniffle and say, “I don’t understand why you’re being so mean to me or what it is you think I’m doing to hurt Rhett.”
He scoffs. “Since when is it mean to give a girl a nice chunk of change?”
“When it’s meant to pay her off for some imaginary wrong she hasn’t committed.”
“Honey, nothing’s more real than the wreck you’ve turned Rhett into.”
