by Lucy Lambert
“I have to know… What did you say to Joe?”
Joe. Kid with the spray paint, I remembered. “Who says I said anything to him?”
That earned me a quirked eyebrow. “I sort of eavesdropped on the two of you when he was about to tag those lockers with spray paint. I’m sorry. I meant to step in and say something, but when you started talking to him I just couldn’t. I just wanted to know more about you.”
“Charlie Morgan. Teacher of Shakespeare, Dickens, and a spy. I had no idea.”
“What did you say to him? I missed the last part, right before he walked away.”
I meant to keep ribbing her about spying, but I relented. I could tell just from the tone of her voice that she really did feel bad about it, and that it probably ate at her and she wanted to come clean.
So I nodded. “Are you sure you want to know?”
“Yes,” she replied after a moment’s hesitation.
“I asked him if he knew how much this was going to disappoint you and whether he really wanted to do that.”
I waited, but Charlie didn’t say anything. I knew that she knew that she was a good teacher. However, I didn’t think she knew exactly the kind of affect she had on her kids.
“Really?” She said finally.
I shrugged. “You’ll have to trust me on it. Now get that cute butt of yours into the car so that you’re not late. I’ll see you there.”
She wanted to say more, but I stopped her. She climbed into the Camry and I closed the door for her.
“I want to take you out for something special to eat when the day’s over,” I said.
Charlie sat across the small card table in the teacher’s lounge from me. So far the day had gone well, but I could see her nervousness.
This was my last day here after all. Two weeks ago I’d wanted nothing more than for this day to come so that I could be finished with this little PR stunt.
It was funny how your feelings could change so much.
And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little nervous as well. This wasn’t some two-week fling to me. Not anymore, anyway. But part of me still wondered if my feelings could change back. They’d already changed this much.
But I knew they wouldn’t. I wasn’t going to let them.
“That sounds nice,” Charlie said.
“I’m going to miss this place,” I said, looking around the room. The carpet was worn. Old brown splotches stained a few of the tiles in the drop ceiling. The place still smelled vaguely of cigarette smoke, which apparently imbued the walls from the days when teachers could still smoke at school.
“You know,” Charlie said, “I almost believe you when you say that. But really, you want to go somewhere after?”
I wanted more than just after today, I knew. I wanted to take her wherever she wanted to go. I wanted to take her to the places in the world I found special.
No one had made me want to do anything like that for a long time.
“If you’re free,” I said.
“I’ll have the whole weekend for school work,” she replied.
My phone vibrated in my pocket and I pulled it out to check. It was a text from Alisha. My heart squeezed. And here I’d been thinking that maybe she’d decided to relent and leave us alone.
“But will you be free is the question I think,” Charlie said, “Can that big company survive without you? But seriously, I’ll totally understand if you need to go catch up on some things.”
“Nothing like that,” I said, hiding my frown. Whether Alisha was done with me or not no longer mattered. Because I was done with her. I didn’t react well to threats of intimidation and extortion. And her contacting me like this, today of all days, pushed all the wrong buttons.
I’ll be at the office tonight, unless that teacher of yours is keeping you for detention again, the message read.
I looked up at Charlie and wished that I’d met her before I’d descended into the realm of casual relationships and flings. I used to think that sort of thing wasn’t for me. That I didn’t want to be tied down.
But sometime in the last couple of weeks I’d come to realize that when you found the right person, it wasn’t constraining, restraining, whatever, at all. There was nothing tied down about it.
If anything, I felt more free, more liberated, than before.
And part of me pitied Alisha that she hadn’t been able to come to a similar realization.
A small part.
The rest of me wanted to boot her ass to the curb. And that was the part I intended on listening to.
And as usual, when I decided to do something I wanted it done right away.
Charlie stood up, interrupting my brooding. “Ready?”
“Ready?” I repeated.
“For your final appearance? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you lost in thought before. You’re usually so… Present.”
“Yes, that. Of course.” I stood up as well, buttoning my jacket. Today I’d chosen more formal wear. There was an assembly where they wanted me to say a few words. And a few members of the press were here to take a few last pictures, probably all hoping for some sound bite or out-of-context quote they could use in another article about me, CrossFire, or both.
“Nervous?” Charlie asked, smiling. She never used to smile in the teacher’s lounge. All work and no play.
If she had an effect on me, I knew I affected her similarly.
“No, of course not.”
“Oh? Care to share your secret for zero stage fright?” Charlie said.
“Sure, but I don’t think it will do you much good,” I said, leaning in for a quick kiss before we left. Charlie glanced around after to make sure no one had seen, but I’d already checked and knew that we stood there alone.
“Hey, I’m pretty sure if you can do something then I can, too,” she said.
I shrugged, leading us out into the hall.
“So what is it?” Charlie said again.
“Oh, I’ll just be imagining you in your underwear the whole time. Works like a charm,” I said through a grin.
I didn’t have to look at her to tell her face had gone red. She didn’t need to look at mine to know about the grin plastered across my cheeks.
The only thing spoiling the mood was Alisha’s text message.
Stockwell stood in front of the microphone on the stage. A surprising number of students sat in the auditorium, given that it was Friday and that this assembly took the place of the final class of the day.
I would have guessed there’d be a lot more students skipping out.
When I was their age and if there had been an assembly I often skipped them. Usually to work on some school assignment to make sure I got the scholarships to get the hell out of that life. But still.
I sat with Charlie and a few other faculty members on the stage to the left of the podium where Stockwell stood.
Most of the front row consisted of journalists. Some sat typing on laptops, others had cameras out snapping pictures. There was even an older guy there with an old fashioned pad of paper on his lap, jotting notes with a ballpoint pen.
Stockwell swallowed, the sound amplified by the microphone.
“Yes… Yes. Hello, everyone. Thanks for joining us. Our… Uh, our esteemed guest, Mr. Alexander Crossley, head of CrossFire, has been with us for two weeks now… Oh,” he said when, during his nervous fidgeting, he dropped all the cue cards containing his speech to the stage floor, “Excuse me a second… Sorry…”
I decided to save him from himself. Partly because I felt for the guy, and partly because I could pretty much see Charlie’s heart going out to the man.
Mr. Stockwell had mostly avoided me these past couple weeks. I made the man nervous. Something I’d gotten used to doing since my picture began gracing various tabloids and newspapers.
Not all the kids at the school were as well behaved in an assembly as they were in Charlie’s classes. Quite a few started sniggering at their principal.
So I dropped down to one kn
ee and helped him collect the scatter of cards.
“Thanks…” He said.
I cracked a joke to make him smile and then my phone buzzed in my pocket. Alisha, I knew. The problem I’d taken far too long to resolve.
I’d practiced my speech a few times back at the office. It took exactly two minutes to deliver.
I wanted to enjoy it more, but my phone kept buzzing even as I spoke the final line.
“You’re all in the good hands of educators like Miss Morgan. She and others like her are willing to teach, so long as you’re willing to learn. Thank you all for a… Memorable two weeks.”
I flashed a smile for the flashing cameras, ignored the shouted questions from the reporters, and left.
Once more, I met Charlie in the parking lot. She had this little smile on her face. In the sunlight of the late afternoon she looked stunning.
We stood alone out there. I guess Stockwell hadn't dismissed anyone yet.
“What?” I said.
“That was different than I expected,” she said.
“Different good, different bad?”
“Good. Definitely good. And thanks for rescuing Mr. Stockwell. You could have left him hanging out there to dry.”
I shrugged. “I saw the way you looked at him and knew I couldn’t just sit there… And now that this is over…” I wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her hips against mine. I kissed her.
My body tingled at her touch. I felt her practically melt in my arms.
Then she stiffened and pushed away, flushed in the face. Her eyes darted about the lot nervously.
“It’s done now,” I said, “We don’t need to hide anything anymore.”
She hugged her ribs tightly. “I know, I know. It’s just, I don’t know what. This is all so fast for me. It’s never been this fast for me with any other man.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“So, you said you wanted to take me out?” Charlie said, a not-so-subtle prod that she’d like us to take this someplace other than the school parking lot.
I have to say that it did bug me a bit, how cautious she was. Normally I would have given up long ago, moved on to the next woman.
“It’s different for me, too,” I said. I started to say we should get out of there but then my phone buzzed again.
This can’t wait any longer, I knew.
“What is it?” Charlie said, noticing my change in expression.
“There’s something I need to take care of. Back at the office. If I ask for a rain check what sort of interest am I looking at paying?” I said.
She smiled at the joke. A little, not as much as I wanted. Her self-hug tightened. Kids started streaming out of the door. Out from the front of the school I could hear the buses snorting and idling, waiting for their loads of students.
She wanted to say more, I could tell, but the audience made her nervous. “I’ll let you know when I’ve finished calculating. But please, don’t let me get in your way. I don't want to make you miss anything important.”
She hadn’t said it with any spite. She meant it.
“I’m not going to forget you,” I said, “Or us. I mean it. This isn’t over. Look at me and tell me you understand.”
She dragged her eyes up to mine. They searched my face. I let them. My lips tingled with the need to meet hers again, but I knew she wouldn’t like that. Would just push me away. And I wasn’t about to let her do that, either.
“I understand,” she said finally.
“I’ll see you soon,” I said, thinking the sooner I get this other business taken care of the better.
“Alex?” Charlie said.
I turned back towards her. “Yes?”
“I…”
Something in her tone set my heart racing.
She took a deep breath and let it out before continuing, “I really did like having you here. At school, in my class.”
“Me too,” I said, my heart still thumping, wondering if I was right about what she’d been about to say.
“Tell me it’s all a lie. Tell me you don’t actually feel this way?” Alisha said.
We stood in my reception room, my secretary and a few others around as witnesses. I never wanted to be alone in a room with this woman again.
She shoved her iPhone into my face, showing me an MSNBC website headline that read CrossFire CEO Offers Inspiring Words to High Schoolers.
“I do. And you’re fired. Get out.” That felt so good to say.
She smiled, lowering the phone. “You don’t mean that. Not with what I have, not with the pictures I could show everyone. Pictures of you and that teacher,” she whispered the last few words.
“I do mean it.” I looked over my shoulder at the desk, “Get security up her to escort her from the building.” That felt even better.
“I’ll tell them,” Alisha said, “I’ll tell everyone. I'll show them.”
I glanced around the room. Everyone had quieted down. Alisha followed my glance. She blanched. She saw that I’d called her bluff. That being that if she wanted her blackmail material to hold any weight she needed to keep it between us.
Because it was the only bullet she had to fire.
A couple burly security guards stepped out of the elevator. Alisha’s face went from white to red. “You’re going to regret this. I promise.”
“What are you? A super villain? Spare me the diabolical monologue, please.”
I watched her walk out of my reception room. I checked my watch. I wanted to get back to Charlie.
“Mr. Crossley, sir?” My secretary said, “The board wants to see you.”
I waved her away, “Tell them I’m busy.”
“They’re insisting, sir. It's about the matter in Germany.”
I nodded. I had been ignoring CrossFire more than I would have felt comfortable with lately. I needed to take some time and set everything straight.
Chapter 26
CHARLIE
I checked my phone again. You know, just in case I’d accidentally turned off the ringer or vibrate in the 30 seconds or so since I last checked.
Just like 30 seconds ago, my lock screen showed me a clock as well as the flowery field I had my background set to.
“You’re going to drive yourself crazy, you know,” Ash said.
She sat on the other side of the booth, across from me, a steaming mug of coffee cupped in her hands. A similar steamy cup sat on the table in front of me, just to the left of my phone. Except I hadn’t yet touched it.
“I know. I just can’t help it. And I think that he’s driven me well past crazy now.”
A big truck rumbled by outside. It could have disguised the buzz from the phone! I thought. I checked it again. Nothing.
“You know,” Ash said, one eyebrow cocked, “I knew he'd gotten to you. But I didn’t realize he’d gotten to you this bad.”
“I didn’t, either. I can’t believe it most of the time. This is going to sound super corny, but it’s like ever since we met there’s this storm inside of me. It’s threatening to blow me away. And you know what? Part of me wants it to.”
“Maybe you should let it,” Ash said.
“What do you mean?” The desire to check my phone again panged in my chest. My fingers started stretching out for it. I curled them back into a shaky fist. Why hasn’t he called or texted yet?
“Char, honey, I have a question for you.”
“What?” I said.
“When’s the last time you thought about Brady?”
It hit me then. And it hit hard, like the proverbial Mack truck. “I don’t know. I can’t remember.”
Ash smiled at me in that sly, knowing way she had before taking another sip of coffee. “And what does that tell you?”
I could sense that she wanted to slow walk me to the conclusion that I definitely needed to pursue Alex. Or let him pursue me. Those stormy feelings inside me howled to the forefront of my thoughts again.
“I know what you’re trying to say. And I
want to. I want him, I mean… But Ash,” I leaned in, “I feel like people shouldn’t know.”
That earned me an incredulous shake of her head. “Why the hell not?”
“I’m worried about the school. The school board, the PTA. If they find out that Alex and I have been… Carrying on, I’m worried they’ll hold it against the school.”
“Are you sure that’s what you’re really worried about?” Ash said. She certainly enjoyed asking annoying, if prescient, questions today.
“…Yes?” I hazarded, this time not getting what she meant. “What else could I possibly be worried about?”
“Look, Char, don’t take this the wrong way. You’re a great teacher, the students love you. But I think you’re hiding behind them. Because yeah, there might be some ruffled feathers if and when people find out. But no feathers that won’t get smoothed over pretty quick.”
“Hiding behind them?” I said. I took a nervous sip of coffee. I made a face. I hadn’t put any sugar into yet and it went down with a bitter taste.
“I think after Brady you’ve been afraid to let yourself trust someone again. You don’t want to open up to someone else because you think you might get hurt again.”
Rather than let her see my expression I took another sip of the bitter coffee. She took my silence as an invitation to continue.
“And it’s true, you might get hurt again,” she said, “But that’s no excuse. Because, in my opinion, it’s far worse to miss out on the chance for something great in order to avoid the risk. It’s okay to feel hurt, but Char, enough is enough. Stop sabotaging yourself.”
My first instinct was to get up and leave in a huff. And tell her I didn’t need her nose stuck in my business.
Except I knew, in that quiet place inside that always recognized truth, that she was right. And that galled me the most.
“Ash,” I started.
She held up her hands, “I’m sorry. I know it’s not my business, and I probably shouldn’t have said anything…”
“Ash, you’re right.”
She paused, then said, “Yeah, of course I am.”
“You can be as right as you want to be. But what if he doesn’t call? He said he’d stay in touch. What if that was just an excuse to get away from me? Maybe he was just trying to let me down easy?” I replayed our last conversation in my head over and over, scrutinizing it for any sign that it was the end.
