by Doreen Alsen
He looked back at The Catcher in the Rye, but he couldn’t concentrate on it anymore. He thought of Cecily. If she wanted him to be her boyfriend, she was totally out of luck.
Of course, Cecily was going to want more than he could give. It’d be a major pain in the butt.
“I promise I’ll never ask you for another favor.” Hopeful was Shanna’s middle name.
He so missed his old school, where he was out and had friends. He felt understood there. He could talk to kids there.
He could tell James that he thought the principal was hot, and he had a crush on him. He could talk to Matthew about Lady Gaga’s outfits and hair; then they would dance around the music room while they played Telephone.
Now all that was gone. His gaydar hadn’t pinged at all here in Addington. Not even once. His life sucked. Totally, absolutely.
That didn’t mean Shanna’s life had to suck. He held up a finger. “Just the Homecoming Dance. That’s it. I’m not going to date her.”
“Thank you soooo much! I love you!” Shanna smacked him again with an ice cream kiss. “Cecily’s so nice. You’re going to have a great time.”
Ruark sincerely doubted that.
Chapter Six
Ainslie bit her lip as she wrestled her vintage Dior couture gown out of its bag. Tears were threatening behind her eyelids. She loved this gown.
Purchased for a fundraiser for the Sons of the Confederacy Scholarship Fund, a quasi-fancy dress dinner dance, she’d spent over $3,000.00 for the dress. She hadn’t even blinked an eye at the cost of a one of a kind, vintage Dior.
What she wouldn’t give to have that money back.
“That’s a beautiful color,” Mimi, the owner of Sweet Dreams, the best consignment shop in the Boston area, cooed. “The fabric is almost like tissue paper.”
Ainslie got the entire dress out of the bag. The color of a peacock’s tail, the gown was made of silk, with a bustle that exploded tulle ruffles from the waist to a small train. The heart-shaped bodice had tulle straps over the shoulders.
The waist had been teeny tiny so Ainslie had fasted and ran her fanny off the month before the event so that she could fit into it. Even so, she had needed a pair of Spanx.
Two pairs, if she was being honest.
“It’s a real Dior,” Ainslie said. “My stylist was very persnickety about getting the real thing.”
Mimi put both hands over her mouth, her eyes full of awe. “Hm.” She walked over to her computer. “Let me check a few things. I’ll be right back. Please,” Mimi smiled, “have a look around.”
Ainslie meandered over to the junior formals. She didn’t have to worry about examining all the dresses with a magnifying glass. Mimi only took the best to sell.
A deep purple dress caught her eye. The color was a good one for Shanna, but as she took it off the rack, she saw it was one of those trashy dresses in which the back of the dress consisted of laces which held the dress on the girl. She shoved it back into the rack.
Every dress she looked at had something wrong with it. Ainslie considered giving up, when a shiny swatch of emerald green caught her eye. She pulled it off the rack and sighed.
It took her breath away. Beads cascaded from the bodice to the bottom, in swirls of green. They caught the light in pings and pops, and played hide and seek with it. The neckline was up and straight across her shoulder bones. No sleeves, but cut modestly into an A-line, there was nothing revealing about it. The length was short, but not too short. It wouldn’t ride up her baby’s tushie while she danced.
The color was bold, but Shanna looked best in bold colors, deep, saturated jewel tones.
Ainslie looked at the price tag. Oh, she hoped Mimi would be generous about buying the Dior.
Maybe Mimi would put it aside until Ainslie could bring Shanna in to see it. No use in spending money if Shanna didn’t like it.
Mimi came back in. “That’s a great dress! I just got it last week. It’s only been worn once.”
“Oh, really?” No use in looking too eager, but only having been worn once was a big selling point. “Maybe you could put it aside so I could bring my Shanna in to look at it?”
Mimi took it from her. “Of course.” She hung the dress on a rack behind the checkout counter. “Now about the Dior.” Mimi perched the cat’s eye glasses she kept on a string around her neck on her nose. “It’s a beautiful dress, and you’ve kept it in such great condition. It’s obviously Dior. The size of it is an issue. Most of my clients run to larger sizes and alterations on this dress would be nearly impossible. I’m going to have some trouble turning it around.” She grimaced. “I hate to tell you this, but I can only give you $500.00 for it.”
Ainslie’s stomach took a nosedive. She had so hoped for more money. “Are you sure?”
Mimi nodded. “I’m sorry. You can, of course, take it somewhere else if you think you can get more money for it.”
Ainslie thought briefly about taking the dress to a museum, but they would expect her to donate it to the collection. Mimi offered the best deal she could realistically get. “I’ll take it,” she said, her voice heavy with misery.
“I’ll write you a check.” Mimi hustled to her desk and got to work, while Ainslie fingered the delicate fabric one more time.
She gave herself a big kick in her hiney. She couldn’t afford to get maudlin about a dress. She’d suck it up and do what she needed for her kids. $500.00 was enough to get the green dress and some new things for Patsy, as well as new kicks for Ruark.
Besides, when Shanna saw the dress, she’d be so excited. That would make absolutely everything worth it.
****
Ruark shuffled through the kids in the school cafeteria, ready to beat feet and get out of there.
His sister sat with Cecily, who gave him a big hopeful smile. Yeah, he was so not going over there. He hadn’t asked her to the Homecoming Dance yet. He hoped she’d get asked by someone else first, leaving him off the hook.
He pulled his iPod out of his pocket and fiddled with it, trying to find the playlist he wanted to listen to. He was totally into Wagner these days and was studying Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg.
Out of nowhere, a foot came out to trip him. He caught himself before he fell, but his iPod hit the cement floor.
Alden Bradford said, “Oops.” He stomped his foot right on Ruark’s iPod, smashing the screen. Ruark flinched, while Bradford’s buddies surrounded him.
Crap. “No problem,” he murmured as he bent to pick up his Pod.
Bradford kicked it out of his reach. Ruark stood. No way he was going to play this. “You’re going to pay to replace this.” Even as he said it, Ruark knew it sounded stupid.
Bradford laughed. “Whatever, faggot.”
“Everything okay here?” Mr. Mason appeared out of nowhere.
“Hey, Mr. Mason.” Bradford smiled a sharky smile. “Ruark here dropped his iPod. We were helping him pick it up.” Bradford handed Ruark the destroyed mp3 player.
“That true, Ruark?” Mr. Mason looked him in the eyes.
Ruark’s stomach hitched. “Yeah.” He put the iPod into his pocket. He would never say differently, lest he get his ass kicked.
“We’re going to the gym to shoot some hoops. Want to come, Ruark?” Bradford knew Ruark didn’t want to shoot hoops. It was all an act for Mr. Mason. Ruark nearly rolled his eyes.
“No, thank you.” Ruark just wanted to get out of there. He’d go hide out in the music room.
“Then how about you all move along.” Mr. Mason said this to Bradford.
“C’mon,” Bradford said to his cronies. They slithered away, like the snakes they were.
“You okay?” Looked like Mr. Mason wasn’t going to let this go.
“Sure. I’m going to Mrs. Kelly’s room to work on some stuff.” He started to make his getaway.
Mr. Mason stared at him hard, like he was trying to read Ruark’s mind. “If you have any problems, you know you can come to me.”
“Sure.” Ru
ark crossed his fingers. “I’ve got to get to the music room. Mrs. Kelly is waiting for me.”
Mr. Mason looked like he wanted to say more, his mouth all straightened out into a thin line. “Okay.”
Ruark scampered away, tossing his dead lunch into a wastebasket. He knew where he could go.
The music room. Mrs. Kelly was totally cool. She’d let him just hang out and do homework, or go over parts and stuff. It was the closest thing to his old school he had, and he cherished it.
He pushed open the door. The sound of Schubert’s An die Musik filled the air. Mrs. Kelly was standing beside the piano while Jessica, the student accompanist, played Schubert’s beautiful Lied.
“Ruark! Good! I’m glad you’re here.” Mrs. Kelly beamed. “Jessica and I are going over this Schubert song. I think it would be great for you to sing in the New England solo competition.”
“I know it.” Ruark’s heart pounded. “I worked on it with my teacher in Charleston.”
Mrs. Kelly’s face lit up. “Oh, good.” She picked up the International Edition of Schubert’s Lieder transposed into the lower key. Handing it to him, she said, “Do you want to go through it with Jessica?”
Oh dear Lord, he did. It had been so long since he’d sung anything besides bass parts in chorus. He took the book. “Yeah, I can do that.”
“Good.” She smiled. “Just let Jessica know when you’re ready.
He opened to the right page and got his breathing on track, in, out, no noise, just soft cleansing air. Nodding at Jessica to start, he readied himself to sing.
He lost himself in the sheer joy of making sound. He opened up his rib cage and let the air flow into him, then turned it around so it could flow out. The sound was warm, the sensation rich. Ruark opened his mouth and sang for pure joy. He let his voice float on the air.
“Du holder Kunst, in wie viel grauen stunden, Wo mich des Lebens wilder Kreis umstricht, Hast du mein Herz zu warmer Lieb entzunden, Hast mich in einer beße Welt entrücht.”
Oh, how true those words were. They expressed everything music was for him. Beloved art, in how many gray hours where I found myself tied up in the wild circle of life, have you my heart to warmer love led, and made my world a better place.
The song ended, and he just stood there and continued the deep, cleansing breathing. Looking up, he saw Mrs. Kelly wiping her eyes.
“That was so beautiful. Your German is very good.”
He shrugged. “A lot of kids in my old school thought it’s an ugly language, but I like it.”
“That’s wonderful.” Mrs. Kelly beamed. “So will you sing this song for the solo festival?”
“Absolutely.” Finally. Something to live for. “I’d love to.”
****
Dave didn’t quite know how he found himself in the parking lot of The End Zone. He’d just gotten in his car with every intention of picking up his laundry and dry cleaning, going home and hunkering down with some new paperwork the Commonwealth of Massachusetts demanded.
Yep! That’s what Dave intended. Well, as the old saying goes, the road to hell was paved with all that crap.
If he kept eating here every night, he was going to be blimp sized and have a heart condition.
But he was worried about Ruark and wanted to talk to Ainslie. He was only at The End Zone to talk to her so she wouldn’t have to try to finagle more time off work. Being considerate of the mother’s work schedule would no doubt translate into a better home situation for the child.
Yep! That was his story, and he was sticking to it.
He yanked the keys out of the ignition and got out of the car. The parking lot looked empty. Hopefully he could catch Ainslie and grab her for some conversation.
He jingled his keys. He felt pretty freakin’ nervous and he didn’t know why.
No, he was not nervous. He met with parents of troubled children every day. He just didn’t go out of his way to meet them at their place of business. He certainly would not speculate why Ainslie and Ruark Logan were different. They weren’t.
He was just doing his job. Teachers never punch a time clock.
****
Leaning against the bar, Ainslie stifled a yawn. The End Zone was dead. She reached into her apron pocket and tried to estimate how much she’d made in tips. It felt distressingly light.
While she hated when the bar was so busy and so loud she couldn’t think, she hated even more being away from her children and not making any money. She should be at home, listening to Patsy rattle on about her day and making sure Shanna did her homework instead of frittering away her time on Facebook. She would give a million dollars to be there, enjoying hearing Ruark practice.
Well, Ainslie had no patience and zero tolerance for self-pity. She refused to indulge in a pity party, no matter how much her feet hurt.
The nerves on the back of her neck started to spark.
She turned around, albeit reluctantly. She didn’t know whether to be thrilled or terrified to see Dave Mason come through the door.
Thrilled, because the man was more handsome than he had a right to be, or terrified, because when he looked directly at her, she felt a distinct click. She couldn’t have pulled her gaze away from him, never mind run and hide in the kitchen, even if she wanted to.
She didn’t want to.
It had to be her hormones kicking up trouble.
“Ainslie.” He walked right up to her. “I wonder if you’ve got a minute?”
Her mouth went totally dry. “I, uh…”
Spike breezed by. “Why don’t you take your break?” She put a frosty Sam Adams down in front of Dave. “I can cover your tables.”
Ainslie looked over at the two deuces in her section. Everyone had their food and just needed maybe a refill and a check. “If you’re sure it’s okay.”
Spike nodded. “I do.” Looking at Dave, she grabbed a dupe pad. “Do you want anything to eat?”
“Yeah, sure.” He frowned as his stomach growled. “Does Bobby have fish and chips on the menu tonight?”
“For you, sure. Haddock or sole?” Spike asked.
“Haddock.” Dave cleared his throat, focused those amazing blue eyes of his back on Ainslie. “It’s about Ruark and something that happened at school today.”
Ainslie’s heart gave three big, painful thumps. She rubbed the heel of her hand just above where her chest hurt. “Is he in trouble?”
“Not with me. Listen,” he said, as he looked around. “Let’s just go someplace quiet where we can talk.”
“Why don’t you go into the break room?” Spike suggested, sympathy in her gaze. “It’s quiet, and you’ll have tons of privacy. Shush.” Spike put her finger in front of her mouth. “Just go. I’ll watch your tables.” Spike nodded at Dave. “I’ll bring your food to the break room.”
Ainslie didn’t have to be told twice. Tables be damned. Ruark was in trouble, and she needed to do something about it. “Come on,” she told Dave.
She pushed open the kitchen door, feeling Dave’s presence behind her. Her stomach fluttered, but whether because of her baby’s trouble or his school principal’s presence behind her, she didn’t know.
Probably both. She gave herself a mental slap across the face. Ruark was in trouble. She had no business lusting after his principal, no matter how drop dead gorgeous he looked.
He smelled really good, too. Ralph Lauren’s Polo if she didn’t miss her guess.
She nodded to Bobby as she tromped through the kitchen. “I’m taking a break. Dave and I are going to talk in the break room.”
Bobby nodded like he was used to her giving orders. “You need to eat something. What do you want?”
“Not hungry, but thank you.” Ainslie couldn’t eat a bite.
Bobby pulled a basket of fries out of the deep fryer. “Wrong answer. Never mind. I’ll take care of it.”
“Thanks, Bobby.” Ainslie stopped and looked back at Dave. “We can talk in here.”
Chapter Seven
Dave followed A
inslie into the break room. It was certainly a side of The End Zone that he’d never seen before.
One thing was for sure—Bobby was not going to win any prizes for interior decorating. The room was tiny, with institutional green walls plastered with memos to the help, held up by yellowing pieces of scotch tape. A small table was off to one corner, a refugee from a 50’s era garage sale, with wobbly aluminum legs and a discolored, black flecked, cracked Formica top. The vinyl on the chairs was full of holes and bits of foam rubber poked out of them.
Ainslie dropped her cute little bottom down onto one of those chairs. She sighed. “So, tell me about my baby boy.”
He much preferred the way she looked at him when he first came into the bar.
What was that about?
Oh, hell, he had to get over this crazy pull he felt toward her. He wasn’t there to check out her amazing ass, or stare into her beautiful eyes. He was there to talk to her about her kid.
So he took a deep breath and sat down on one of those decrepit chairs. “Look, I don’t want to add to your burden, but I…”
“My children are not a burden.” She looked pale, but there was steel in her voice.
“I never said they were. Children are a gift. I love them, and if I didn’t, I’m really in the wrong line of work.” He softened his tone. “You have great kids. My job is to help.” He reached his hand across the table and put it over her fragile looking hand. It was so cold. “We’re a team, whether you like it or not.”
A gust of air left her, leaving her looking more alone than ever. “My children are my life.” She pulled her hand out of his and put it in her lap.
“Trust me, I believe you. If I didn’t, I’d be talking to social services instead of being here.”