by Rachel Leigh
“Break time?” she asks, spinning herself around. I’m not sure how many glasses of champagne she’s had, but she seems to be a little off-balance, as her head bobbles slightly.
“Not much to do. The place is dead.” I slouch back into the chair. “You need a refill? I can go find Ruby.”
I begin to stand, but she stops me, by putting her hand up. “Nah, I’m fine. I think four glasses is enough for me. Besides, I just heard some weird noises coming from the kitchen, so I think we should leave Ruby be.”
We both start laughing, and for the first time ever, Ms. Hyland seems human.
“I’m just gonna take myself home.” She grabs her purse off the bar and goes to stand, but staggers back a tad. Her eyes widen, as if she’s adjusting them to the light, even though this place is gloomy as always.
“Woah,” I push my chair back and hurry over to her, “maybe I should call you an Uber. You really shouldn’t drive.” I brace her with my hand on the small of her back, and she straightens herself up.
“I’m totally fine. Besides, I don’t think a kid should be giving me advice on when I should or shouldn’t drive.”
There it is. A kid. Regardless, this kid isn’t letting her behind the wheel of a car. Not like this. I’ve witnessed what can happen when Mr. Porter took Jasper’s mom’s life from drunk driving. Not a chance in hell.
“Let me drive you, please.” I feel like I’m being a tad pushy, but I’m not backing down on this.
“Aren’t you supposed to be working?” she questions, with a scowl.
I snatch the keys that dangle from her hand. “Yeah, I’m washing all the dishes from this room full of customers. C’mon, I’m driving you.”
She lets out a sigh, but begins heading toward the door.
“Sid,” I shout, hustling over the kitchen doorway, without walking in, “I’m taking you up on calling it a night. I’ll see ya Friday.”
He doesn’t respond, but I don’t attempt to get one. Instead, I’m jogging over to the bar door that is slowly closing. I pull it open and step outside. She makes no attempt to wait for me, even though I hold the keys to her car.
This should be a fun ride home.
6
Claire
I keep walking down the sidewalk, as I hear Knox come up behind me. I don’t even look at him. I’m not sure if it's because I’m embarrassed about the way I’m acting, or if it’s because I’m pretty sure that, letting a teenage boy drive me home because I had one too many glasses of champagne, would be frowned upon by the almighty residents of Redwood. Way to get on their good side, Claire.
“Are you sure you have to do this?” I look over, and he’s now at my side. The keys in his hand to my Volvo, clanking together with each step.
“I’m sure. I walked here, anyway, my car is at home. Works out perfectly.” He grins.
I look down at my feet again, as we approach my car, not liking the way he makes me feel with that smile. It’s wrong. It’s just the alcohol making me feel these things. It always has me thinking irrational thoughts. It’s the desperation inside of me to always feel wanted. To feel loved. To have arms around me and a voice that soothes the pain. It’s not like this kid could ever give me those things.
“Thanks, I guess,” I mutter under my breath.
“What’s that? I didn’t hear you?” He leans over with his ear mere inches from my face, as he opens the passenger door for me.
“I said thank you!” Shouting loud enough to make him flinch. I start laughing uncontrollably, and it feels damn good. That’s twice today. I don’t think I’ve laughed since I got to this town. I suppose the night wasn’t a total bust after all. Now, I can go home and crawl into bed with a good book and sleep peacefully, knowing that I mingled with townsfolk and attempted to blend in. Even if, to Knox, I’m standing out. Something inside of me says that's ok. That my awkwardness and childlike behavior is our little secret.
I get in and shut the door behind me, feeling slightly embarrassed by the state of distress my car is in. Pop cans and water bottles are thrown around on the back floorboard, and it smells like a McDonald’s french fry in here, even with the three pine tree air fresheners hanging from the blinker switch. Now that I think about it, I did drop some down the side of the driver’s seat. Knox doesn’t seem to notice; he just starts the engine and pulls out, without even a hint of disgust at the stench.
“Should we get you some food to soak up that alcohol?” he asks, as he peers out the side mirror, before moving int o the turning lane.
“Oh no, I’m good. Some water and a nap and I’ll be good as new.” Once again, the guilt rises up my esophagus like a bad acid. Maybe I was wrong about him all along. I guess we can’t judge a book by its cover; I should know this better than anyone. It can be glammed up with a beautiful shell, one that draws you in. An image on the front of a sexy man that you dream about, you may even call him your book boyfriend. But, you open that bitch up, and it’s full of hidden secrets, lies, and a fifty-five year old bearded man with a potbelly. Nothing like that man you dreamt about the night before. The alcohol must really be going to my head, my thoughts are running ramped.
No one in this town would suspect that I left behind a house and possessions worth millions, a husband who dressed me to his liking each day, and a bodyguard who helped me escape. It sounds like a nightmare, more than a reality. To them, I’m just the quiet teacher who moved to a new town for a change of scenery.
“You really should eat something.” He glances at the dash clock. “It’s dinner time. We can swing through a drive-thru for a burger and some fries.”
Yep, he smelled the fries.
“Actually, I think the main housekeeper mentioned bringing something by tonight. Ms. Porter is leaving town for a couple of weeks, and she wanted to cook her up a nice farewell dinner.”
He snickers. “I don’t think I can ever get used to you calling her Ms. Porter.”
“What? That’s her name. It’s only right to call her, Ms. Porter.”
Knox turns his head to me, and I see amusement written all over his face.
“What? Isn’t her name Blakely Porter?”
He nods. “Yes, but she’s only twenty years old. I don’t think she needs that title, until she’s at least thirty.”
“Well, little do you know, I’m only twenty-three years old, and I have an entire school that refers to me as Ms. Hyland.”
“You’re only twenty-three?” he questions in shock. Almost as if he thought I was some old lady.
“Why is that so hard to believe? Do I look older?”
“No.” His eyes dance back and forth from the road to me. Like he’s inspecting my body for signs of old age. “No, I’m just surprised is all. I knew you were young. I just assumed you were closer to thirty. Ya know, because of your position and all. A high school teacher—you must be straight outta college.”
“Actually, I don’t even have a teaching degree. Just a two-year associates degree in fine arts. I’m not a teacher, I’m an artist.”
“So, are you just filling in temporarily?” He sinks farther back into the seat, getting more comfortable. His right hand rests over top of the steering wheel, as he watches the road.
“That’s the plan,” I respond, hoping this conversation switches gears real soon. Any more talk about my life, and I’ll need another glass of house champagne. “How about you? Just working at Scotty’s temporarily?”
“Yep, gotta make that money. If you haven’t heard, washing dishes is a secret goldmine.” I look over and catch him looking at me with that smile again. That same smile that I caught at the pub. The one that I held onto and that forced me into this designated driver agreement.
I fold my hands in my lap and look out the window, out of fear that I might be blushing. I don’t know what he’s doing to me, but I don’t like it one bit. It feels wrong, so wrong.
It’s just the champagne, I remind myself again.
I straighten up when I notice that he drives right pa
st our road. “Where are you going?” I point out the window, my eyes staying locked on the road that is fading in the distance.
“Grabbing some food. I left my dinner in the fryer at work, and I’m hungry. It’s on me,” he says matter-of-factly.
“No, uh uh,” I shake my head, “If you insist on getting food, I’ll buy my own. It hardly seems right that I’d allow you to spend your hard earned money on my dinner.”
“Goldmine, remember?” He turns abruptly at the road leading back into town, pulling into McDonalds.
It’s not like we have many options. A couple fast food joints, some high-end restaurants, and the pub. Redwood is pretty quaint. I’m starting to think that quaint is good. I find myself enjoying the small-town feel and the slow-paced lifestyle.
“What’ll it be?” He pulls into the drive-thru line.
“Just a cheeseburger and fries.” I’m really not hungry, but to appease him, I just go with it. I pull out my wallet and shuffle through a couple bills, pulling out a ten.
He places our order, asking for two separate bags. “Here,” I hand him the money, “I’m buying. It’s the least I can do for you driving me home.”
To my surprise, he doesn’t even argue. He hands the cashier the money, and a couple minutes later, the car is filled with the aroma of grease filled food, once again.
The awkward silence has me listening to each breath that I take. I reach over and turn up the volume on the stereo. Country music plays through the speakers, which grabs his attention.
“Country girl, huh?”
“Not really. I enjoy the music, but I certainly wouldn’t call myself a country girl.” I wouldn’t call myself a city girl either. I’m not really sure what I am. I grew up in a small town, but I never fit in. Now that I think of it, I never fit in much of anywhere.
We pull into the driveway of the main house, and Knox parks in my designated spot. He must have noticed. How could he not? It’s parked here day in and day out, aside from school hours.
I look over to Knox, whose eyes are fixated on his house. That’s when I catch his expression. Principal Burton is standing with her hands plastered on her hips and a mask of confusion all over her face.
“Great.” I sigh. “Knox I need a favor? I know that I have no right to ask—”
He cuts me off before I can finish. “I’ll tell her you weren’t feeling well. She doesn’t need to know.”
I grab the keys from the ignition and stuff them into my purse. Bundling up my food in my arms, I open the door.
“Thank you again.” I don’t even look over at him. This situation is already strange enough. I can feel his mom’s glare bore into my skin, without even looking.
I climb out and make my way down the path, avoiding making eye contact. I could go over and talk to her; I’m feeling pretty sober at this point. But, I’m sure the stench of alcohol still lingers. What the hell was I thinking letting Knox drive me home? This was so unprofessional of me, and I know exactly how it looks from the outside.
Or, maybe that’s because I know how I feel on the inside. No one can see that, though. The world is none the wiser that my student—a kid at that, had my heart skipping beats on more than one occasion tonight.
I plop down on the sofa and kick off my shoes. Reaching into the bag, I pull out my burger and my $10 bill falls out with it.
“He didn’t!” I say out loud, with a huge smile plastered on my face.
I definitely pegged Knox wrong.
So wrong.
I wake up the next morning before my alarm sounds. Two cups of coffee in, and I’m feeling ready to take on the day. I fill my large mug and slap the top on. Grabbing my bag, I give myself one more glance in the mirror. My hair tossed in a bun on the top of my head, makeup on point, and a black pencil skirt, with a matching blazer, has me feeling all sorts of sophisticated today.
I walk out the door ten minutes earlier than usual. Before I can even close the door behind me, I’m face to face with my neighbor—and boss.
“Principal Burton. Good morning,” I stutter, unsure of why she is at my doorstep.
A smile on her face calms my nerves, but I’m still not buying the pleasant aura she’s giving off. She’s here for a reason, and I think I know what that reason might be.
“Good morning, Claire. Please, call me Val. You’re probably wondering why I’m here.”
Uh yeah, no kidding.
She continues, as I fidget with the strap of my black bag. “This isn’t a business drop-in; otherwise. I would have saved it for school hours.” She pauses. “I’m here because of my son.”
I take a deep breath, pinching my lips together and tasting the sweet cherry gloss on them. “Listen, I can explain. I wasn’t feeling well, and Knox offered to drive me home.”
She holds up a hand, stopping me from sticking my foot in my mouth any further. I choke it down and let her continue.
“This isn’t about Knox giving you a ride. He explained that, and I’m happy he was able to help you. I wanted to bring you this.” She hands me a large silver envelope.
“What’s this?” I ask in confusion, as I begin peeling it open.
“I’d like to invite you to my wedding in two weeks. Most of the staff will be there, so you’ll see some familiar faces. And, Zeke.”
“Oh, nice. Thank you very much, and congratulations.” I shake the envelope that still holds the invitation.
“Speaking of Zeke, Knox mentioned that you two had a date last night.”
“A date?” I spit. “Umm, I think Knox is mistaken.”
“Oh, you two weren’t together last night?” She appears puzzled, and I’m not sure where this is coming from or where it is going.
I know Knox said he wasn’t going to tell his mom about my drinking being the reason for the ride, at least that’s the way I took it. But, did he think that I was on a date with Zeke?
“Well, we were, but it wasn’t a date. What is this about?” I ask, suddenly feeling defensive that my personal life is being questioned here.
“I just want to give you a heads up. Zeke has had a bit of a hard time.” She looks around the property, as if she’s checking to make sure she can’t be overheard. “He lost his wife last summer, and his heart is still healing from that loss.”
Small-town gossip. There it is. It’s quaint, it's peaceful, but there will always be those who like to stir up the pasts of those who have made mistakes. I like to call them the drama whores. I would have never took Principal Burton to be one, but here we are.
“Oh?” That's all I can say. I may not like drama whores, but I never turn away an ear when they are talking.
“Robin Thorn was a wonderful woman. Her and Zeke fell in love shortly before she got sick. They married only weeks before her life was cut short.”
“Thorn? As in Axel Thorn?”
“Yes, Axel’s mom. Poor boy lost so much last year. It’s no wonder he behaves the way he does.”
“Are Zeke and Axel close?” I ask out of curiosity. I see how Axel reacted to him yesterday, and it didn’t come off as a good relationship.
“Oh no.” She shakes her head. “Axel blames Zeke for his parents’ divorce, and with no prenup, Zeke was left with everything that Axel feels should have been his. It’s understandable. Zeke is a good man, but he should have never got mixed up with a married woman.”
So, it was an affair. This must be why Axel was so defiant yesterday. Why he got so angry when Zeke tried to calm him down—when he called him son. It all makes sense now.
Val glances at her silver analog wristwatch. “I should be going. I hope you can make it to the wedding.”
“Yes, thank you for this.” I hold up the envelope.
It looks like we all have our own dirty little secrets. I’m not one to judge. I certainly don’t judge Zeke’s behavior. It’s not my business. He has been nothing but gracious toward me. After all, I was married to the biggest monster of all, and he wore innocence like it was his favorite suit. Slick, straight, an
d perfectly fitted.
Here I was worried about my skeletons falling out.
As long as no one opens that closet, I’ll be okay.
7
Knox
It’s finally Friday, and I’m looking forward to getting out of this school for the weekend. I slide my tray of food across the cafeteria table, and Taya scoots down, making room for me.
“What’s the plan tonight, boys?” Axel asks, stuffing half of a breadstick in his mouth.
“Ehem,” Taya clears her throat, “and ladies.”
Axel rolls his eyes and looks back at me, completely ignoring her presence. He’s an ass like that. “Your parents out of town tonight?
I shake my head. “Nope, but I know whose are.” I look over to Harper at the end of the table, and Axel follows the direction of my stare. She’s been a part of our group as long as anyone else at this table. We all stick together. At least we used to.
“Her?” he quips. “She wouldn’t let me back in her house if it was burning down, and I was there to save her ass.”
He’s probably right. There was a time that she gravitated toward him, until last year, when everything changed—when he changed.
“My house it is.” He slaps his hands on the table, causing all the girls to jump, along with Kip. “Time to get f-u-c-k-ed up.”
As if she can read his excitement, Harper walks down to us. She’s dressed to perfection in a pair of skinny jeans and a pink cashmere sweater that matches her baby pink lips. “My parents are out of town tonight. You’re all welcome.” She looks to Axel, shifting gears from sweet to sour. “Except for you.”
“Sorry, baby doll. They’re all coming to my house tonight.” He stuffs the other half of breadstick in his mouth, as he watches for her reaction, grinning with each chew.
Damn these two for always sticking us in the middle of this.
Harper glances around the table, and all heads are hung low. Everyone is so worried about pissing Axel off. If it wasn’t for bro-code, I’d go. I’d rather be at Harper’s party, where people might actually smile, than in Axel’s darkness. But, I’d never live it down if I ditched him to go hang out with a girl he is in love with, even if he won’t admit it.
