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by Bart Hopkins

  “See you later, Professor.”

  “Good bye, Professor. Tell Zoe I said hello,” Susan added.

  <<>>

  Half an hour later, Susan departed, and Greg was back on his computer. He immediately maximized his Facebook window and found Candy’s latest message waiting for him.

  Maybe we can drive around and check out the old places, she had written an hour before.

  Then ten minutes later: Are you there? LOL … did you have to rescue a damsel in property distress?

  He chuckled and started typing.

  Actually, that’s pretty close. An old professor asked me to help a friend of his whose husband is deployed. We found a great place at a low price and signed the papers today. Damsel rescued! Also, sure, we can drive around and check things out.

  LOL … that’s so funny. I was only joking. Have you been down to Cherry Hill since high school? Lots of memories there.

  Greg sat back from his desk. The old, familiar feelings stirred below the waist. Cherry Hill was a place ‘down the island’ where high school kids went to drink and hide out, away from prying eyes.

  One night, they sat along the top of the concrete hill, watching friends leave, passing the not-so-classy bottle of Boone’s Farm that seemed to dominate so many high school gatherings. When the last of their friends were gone, they had finished the cheap wine, and had sat quietly listening to the waves crash in the distance, holding hands. They moved close, until there was nowhere left to be except against each other.

  It was the first of many times they would climb into the back seat of his old two-door Honda Civic. She was his first, and Cherry Hill was the place.

  Cherry Hill … hadn’t thought about that place in a long time. A quick visit would be fun, he typed.

  Awesome. It’s a date, she replied.

  His fingers hovered over the keyboard as he searched for a reply that was hiding from him at the moment.

  Gotta go, he wrote, and logged off of Facebook just before his co-worker Mark burst through the door.

  Chapter 17

  Paul, Jennifer, Claire, and Nancy

  Nancy was on her back, smart phone in her hands, with her legs kicked over the arm of the sofa. The Wizards of Waverly Place was playing muted in the background. Of course, if any of her friends had been around, she wouldn’t have had it on at all. Too old for Wizzes of Waverly.

  OMG! Can you believe Josh said that in front of everyone? I mean, he made it sound like we were a couple.

  That boy is crazy over you, Nance. C-R-A-Z-Y. Big time. Do you remember Hannah’s pool party? The one with all the ice cream, and Hannah’s mom was blaring Justin Bieber? Josh was nuts about you back then, too.

  You think? That was, like, fifth grade, Nancy messaged.

  True love lasts at least until eleventh grade, Gina replied.

  Gina and Nancy had been friends since kindergarten. Gina didn’t have crayons her first week of school. As she liked to remind people, her mother could be forgetful. Scatterbrained. A blonde trapped inside a brunette.

  Nancy saw the hurt look on the little girl’s face, and it tugged her heartstrings. She moved her chair to the end of the table and sat down with Gina, and spread her crayons out. They smiled at each other, and the rest was history.

  Nancy noticed she had two new Facebook notifications, and stopped to see what they were. She looked and saw that the first notification was that two people had left comments on the grumpy cat picture she had posted.

  The other notification was that she was tagged in a picture. She clicked on the link to open it, and her mouth opened wide. She quickly typed a message to Gina…

  Josh posted a picture of the two of us from Lake Travis today! He wrote ‘me and my girl’ for the description. And tagged me!

  No! Way! Did it show up on your timeline?

  It did. What should I do?

  Do you like Josh?

  What? What do you mean? Nancy wrote.

  Come on, Nance, I think you like him, too.

  Nancy bit her lip and thought about it. She didn’t talk about it, but she’d known Josh liked her. He’d always followed her around like a little puppy. Only this year, he wasn’t the same little puppy. He’d shot from 5’6” to nearly 6’0” during the past year. Started playing football. He wasn’t very good, but he was trying, getting better, and he’d filled out a lot.

  She had to admit to herself that she did think about him that way sometimes.

  What do you think about him? she asked. She saw the ellipses pop up on the Facebook chat window.

  She waited…

  It’s cool. He’s a great guy IMO. Just feels like my little brother or something.

  Nancy smiled. I’ll leave it on my timeline

  “What are you up to?” Claire walked into the living room with her hands on her hips and looked down at Nancy. “Chatting with your besty?”

  PIR … BRB, Nancy typed, then looked up at her mom. “Yes.”

  “What about? Boy stuff?”

  “Ugh—Mom!”

  She hated it that her mom had guessed correctly. Sometimes it creeped her out how often her mom knew what they were doing or what they were talking about.

  “Boys are universally at the heart of girlfriend conversations. Even in third world countries.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Your dad wasn’t the only boy I ever dated…”

  “Gross,” Nancy muttered under her breath.

  “Why is that gross?” Claire put her hand down and gave it a quick brush through Nancy’s hair.

  “Mom, it is gross when you just make these open-ended statements alluding to sex or whatever.”

  Claire started laughing, a throaty, sexy laugh, which coincidentally, had always drawn the boys to her.

  “I wasn’t talking about sex. You’re so silly.” She sat down next to her daughter and they were both quiet for a moment.

  “So…”

  “So.”

  “Which boy is it?”

  “Ugh!”

  The doorbell rang and Claire got up to answer it. Nancy mentally thanked God for answering her prayer, then opened up her Facebook again. She heard her mother start laughing in the foyer followed by the familiar click of her friend Jennie’s shoes. She quickly typed a good-bye to Gina.

  “Hey girl!”

  Nancy stood up and tossed her phone to the side when Jennie entered the living room; she gave her a hug. Her dad was always joking about Jennie being a ”ditz,” but Nancy thought she was awesome. She dressed in killer clothes, always had her toenails painted, and just seemed so young compared to her mom and dad.

  “Hi Jennie—what are you up to? You look great!”

  “Really? I feel great. We just stopped by to see if you guys wanted to go have lunch with us? We’re going to Moonshine.”

  “We?” Nancy asked, but then she noticed the guy talking to her mom and gave a soft whistle.

  “He’s hot,” she whispered.

  “I know!” Jennifer Newman whispered back, opening her eyes wide for a second, then giving Nancy a conspirational wink. “Hey Paul, let me introduce you to Claire’s daughter, Nancy.”

  “Nice to meet you. I’m Paul.” Nancy took his hand and thought to herself, even his hand is gorgeous!

  “Nancy. Hi.”

  “Is Miss Newman your teacher, or just friends with your mom?”

  “Oh, they’re friends. Jennie teaches junior and senior English. I’m just a sophomore—will be a sophomore this year.”

  “Well … you should definitely take her class. She’s an awesome teacher.”

  She looked at him quizzically, then over at Jennie—Ms. Newman—whose cheeks went somewhat crimson beneath her blue eyes.

  “Okay, so go grab your purses and phones and lip gloss and let’s giddy-up. I need a margarita in my hand within thirty minutes,” Jennifer sang to the room. Nancy watched as Paul slid an arm around Jennie’s waist and they laughed; it dawned on her that this Paul was younger than Jennie, her future teacher.
Quite a bit younger.

  <<>>

  “So you guys met at the catering place?” Claire asked. She was sipping a mixed drink while Jennifer was killing her second margarita. She’d actually ordered it when the first one arrived, seemingly hell-bent on intoxication.

  Paul smiled and sipped his water with lemon.

  “You could say that,” Jennie said, and giggled.

  “I did say that. I’m surprised Janice didn’t hit on him since you were at Word of Mouth. She’s a predator: a cougar on the prowl.” She held up her hand like a claw and roared; Nancy laughed at her mother.

  “I rescued him, right out from under her claws,” she said, and winked at Paul. Her second margarita had disappeared—magic! She did a little wave-and-point motion at the waitress. Seasoned veteran, the waitress nodded, and walked over to the bartender to submit the order.

  “That girl can sure make some amazing banana crepes…”

  “No. The Crème Brule!” Jennie chimed in. They both had looks that resembled orgasm plastered on their faces.

  “Yeah. That was possibly the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” Paul added. Jennie and Claire looked at him, then at each other; they burst out laughing.

  “Ladies, hello, here you go,” their waitress, Debbie, chirped like a happy bird, setting down a new margarita. “Are you ready for something else, too?”

  While Claire asked the waitress about the contents of their mixed drinks, and Nancy started tapping on her cell phone, Jennie leaned into Paul and put her lips to his ear. “I think you’ll taste something better tonight,” she purred. With an innocent-looking kiss on the cheek, she leaned back into her chair.

  “Okay. I’ll take the one that has Malibu, cranberry, and orange juice.” Claire looked pleased. “Do you want another soda, Nancy?”

  Nancy was on Facebook, looking at the picture that Josh had posted. She admitted to herself that they looked good together, especially now that he was so much taller. The year before, when he was only two inches taller than her, it was a little weird. She realized now how much she liked tall boys—could never date a short guy.

  “Excuse me … Earth to Nancy, Earth to Nancy.”

  “What? Sorry, Mom?”

  “Another drink?”

  “Oh, sure! I’ll just have another Coke, thank you.”

  “Awesome, awesome,” she replied, then pointed at Claire with her pen. “You are really going to like your drink, trust me!” She turned to Paul. “Sir?”

  “Hmm,” Paul started, then cleared his throat as he felt Jennie’s hand slide into the crotch of his pants under the table. Women didn’t catch him off guard too often, but Jennie surprised him every so often. She challenged him in a lot of ways that weaker women didn’t. “I guess I’ll have a beer. Dark. Guinness if you have it.”

  The waitress gave them a free round of smiles and moved on to her new task.

  Amy sure hadn’t challenged him, not in any good ways. She had grown weak and compliant almost as soon as they had started dating. When she cried, the only way to get her to stop was through force. Enough force stopped anything…

  No, Jennifer was something special. He didn’t think he would have to … persuade her … the way he did Amy. Well, maybe he would slap her around in the bedroom a little bit, but just for fun. He thought she might like that. The idea of it brought a small smile to his lips.

  “Hey … what were you just thinking about?”

  “Crème Jennie,” he said, speaking low, and she instantly felt the heat spread in her abdomen. Jennifer looked at Claire and Nancy, but they didn’t hear him.

  “Who were you Facebooking with?” Jennie asked Nancy. “Any cute boys?”

  “What? Um, no…”

  “She was looking at the picture that her friend Josh posted of them,” Claire interjected.

  “Mom!”

  “What? Gosh, honey, we’re friends on Facebook! I saw the picture of you two.” She looked at her daughter with a strange mixture of feelings. Part of her wanted Nancy to remain young and innocent. The other part knew the inevitability of young romance. Mankind hadn’t produced anything yet to stifle it. And she didn’t think they made chastity belts anymore.

  “You look cute together,” she added.

  Nancy blushed. “Thanks, Mommy.” Claire rubbed her daughter’s arm. Subconsciously, unknown to either of them, they had just crossed a border into new territory. Their conversations would contain an element of adulthood they’d avoided previously.

  Just then Debbie appeared with a fresh round of drinks.

  “Okay, all right, we’ve got Guinness, another Margarita, a Bomber, and a Coke. Enjoy!”

  “Thanks, Debbie,” Paul said as she left. “Ladies, glasses up. Let’s have a toast.” The girls all lifted their drinks, Jennie stealing a quick sip during the upward push. “Life is full of all kinds of lessons. Scuba lessons. Driving lessons. Golf lessons. Piano lessons. But the most important lessons of all, we learn from our teachers. Especially the really hot teachers. Like Ms. Newman,” he said. Jennifer slapped the side of his arm playfully, while Claire and Nancy laughed. Understanding dawned in Claire’s eyes and her mouth dropped open. Jennifer saw her, laughed, and shrugged her shoulders.

  “And, so I toast you, the greatest and hottest teacher,” he said, raising his glass and looking at Jennifer. “To Ms. Newman.”

  “To Ms. Newman!” they repeated, and clinked their glasses together in the middle of the table.

  Chapter 18

  Rose and Mary Beth

  Rose watched Mary Beth’s house. Even though she had on a brilliant disguise—sunglasses and a floppy hat—she felt conspicuous. Exposed and obvious. She almost expected a large, cartoonish arrow to appear over the car, flashing and blinking, pointing at her: in this car be the interloper.

  But she didn’t know what else to do. So she sat. And she waited.

  Summertime in central Texas could be unkind to native Texans, and cruel to the country’s northern born guests. The forecast called for a particularly oppressive high temperature that day. The kind of day you could scramble eggs on the pavement. She had no doubt the local tow trucks would be tugging overheated cars from the nearby highways throughout the day.

  Even at 9:00 a.m., Rose felt sticky. She didn’t know how long she would be able to stake out the Connor house on a street devoid of trees and shade. The grass was green, and she could only imagine unprecedented daily watering—the Berlin Airlift of lawn watering—was necessary to offset the brutal effects of the sun.

  The idea plagued her that a vehicle parked and running would arouse more suspicion than one sitting quietly. Then again, what the hell do I know, she thought. If it got too hot, she would run the air conditioner, precaution be damned.

  She’d known immediately that she had the right house when she saw the SUV parked outside. It was the same one that the Connor family had climbed out of the previous night. Thanks to the all-knowing, all-reaching fingers of the Internet, the numbers on the outside only confirmed what she already knew.

  Their street had a typical southern small-town name: Running Buck Lane.

  Running Buck Lane, she mused. She’d chuckled about the name the night before, lying atop the itchy comforter on her hotel bed, the television running unwatched in the background. The laughter spilled out of her again as she stared at the street sign.

  After the near-miss the night before, almost being busted outside of the art gallery, the adrenaline release had hit her like a sack of potatoes. She had slipped into what could most accurately be described as a coma. The sleep was deep and black; it was the best she’d had in weeks.

  She hadn’t planned on eating anything, but the mouth-watering smells in the lobby changed her mind. Super sleuth that she was, she used her nose and located platters of bacon and eggs, cereals, and fruits in an alcove around the corner from the receptionist. She earned some of her hotel cost back during that breakfast.

  Then she was off to find Mary Beth. Magnum P.I. without the mustache. />
  She arrived early. Within a few minutes of shutting down the engine, Tom departed for work in a late model pickup truck. She watched his vehicle approach her and prayed for invisibility. Tried to blend into her seat. Sat frozen, unmoving, eyes following the truck.

  Nary a glance was cast her way when he rolled by sipping his thermos of coffee.

  The first hour passed without much activity on Running Buck Lane. The sun grabbed planet Earth, and the city of Fredericksburg, in a passionate embrace. Kissed her streets, and waved hello to the occupants.

  A door opened down the street and a small dog ran out. She watched, amused, as it ran around a few times in the yard. Then, abruptly, it did two quick, tight circles and went into a squat to do its business.

  “Imagine that,” she said aloud, and chuckled. “It’s true … the sun does shine on a dog’s ass now and then.”

  She cracked open a bottle of water. An hour in the car had left it sweating profusely. Drops of water jumped from the bottle to her lap when she picked it up. She tilted it back and experienced one of those rare moments when she thought water tasted good. Most days she simply considered it a tasteless necessity. She’d grabbed it on the way out as an afterthought, and now she was glad she had.

  She watched for another hour. Turned the car on and jammed the air conditioning for a while. Watched another hour. No movement.

  From the comfort of her house in Austin, it had seemed reasonable to watch the house for a few days, and come up with a plan of action. But she was already feeling sapped, thanks to the central Texas heat, both restless and impatient. She decided to grab a bite to eat and consider alternative plans.

  <<>>

  The Mexican restaurant the receptionist recommended was phenomenal. The steak sizzled and popped on the iron skillet while she loaded her fajitas. Her already healthy appetite only seemed to have grown on this trip. She considered briefly that she wasn’t getting any younger, should maybe slow down…

  Nah, she thought. I’ll just work it off.