"I don’t think it’s in the background," Abigail said. "Lance showed me a tiny clip of it the other day, and it was you, belting it out like Tina Turner."
I laughed at that. "I'm sure it wasn't like Tina Turner," I said to Michelle, who looked extremely interested and shocked that it was the first she had heard about any of this.
"It's gonna be really good," Abigail promised.
"What's it for?" Michelle asked.
"The store. Lance's store. All Things Fish."
"And it's it gonna be on TV?" Her expression was completely shocked, and I let out a nervous laugh.
"I think so," I said.
"It is," Abigail assured her, nodding. "It's a big deal. Lance said the marketing people have it scheduled to air on like five different stations, plus internet stuff."
I felt queasy at the thought. I was excited but anxious about it. I knew it was a little tongue in cheek and meant for comedy, but I was still really nervous about so many people seeing it—judging me, judging the store.
I just smiled and shrugged, trying not to let them see my insecurities. Weeks ago, when Lance and I had first started hanging out, I had told someone in passing that "It was my first time doing anything like that, and it might not be as good as if he had hired a professional."
On our way home from whatever we were doing, Lance had grabbed my hand and lovingly told me that, "I shouldn't admit defeat." I had asked him what he meant by that, and he said that even if I am insecure about something I should just keep it to myself—that people didn’t need to go into something thinking that there was already a problem. He said that I should let them judge the commercial for themselves, and chances were, they wouldn't be as hard on me as I was on myself—that they wouldn't even notice I wasn't a professional singer if I hadn't told them.
I took his words to heart.
I made a dessert to take to his parents' house. I thought it had turned out too sweet and I started to announce that to everyone as a disclaimer before they ate it, but I kept to myself, and the dessert was a hit.
"I can't wait to see that," Michelle said. "I didn't know you were gonna be famous."
I laughed. We continued talking about the commercial for the next few minutes. Michelle wasn't familiar with the name of the song, but once I sang a few lines, recognition dawned on her. She gawked at me wide-eyed like she had no idea I could sing. I had sung it quietly, so it made me laugh that she was doing that.
"When's it coming out?" she asked.
"I think it starts airing on Monday," I said. "We're having a viewing party at the videographer's house tomorrow. He's all excited about it and wanted to have us over to watch."
"Oh, my gosh, that's so exci—"
Michelle's sentence was cut off by the sound of crying—a loud, howling cry. We all looked in the direction from which it was coming and could see Ellie running toward us with Ash, Lance, my mom, and the others in her wake.
Ellie was the one crying, I could hear her and see her face buried in her hands.
"I made him bleeeed!" she wailed.
"It's fine!" Lance yelled. "I'm fine. It's just a little cut."
Ellie ran straight up to me. Some of their parents were there, but Ellie's weren’t, so I was her makeshift mom in her moment of distress. She latched onto me and buried her face in the crook of my neck. Being a junior in high school, she was nearly as tall as me.
"Are you hurt?" I asked, trying to look at her.
She shook her head, but otherwise didn't answer… she only gasped for air as she cried. The other students, along with Lance, Ash, and my mom, continued to approach, and I checked them all out with a look of concern on my face.
I focused on Lance who shook his head at me, telling me I shouldn't worry.
"Ellie threw a rock and hit Mr. Lance in the face," David said in a matter-of-fact tone.
Ellie squeezed me tighter when he said it. She gripped me so tightly that I had to squirm a little and pat her arm to get her to loosen up.
"He was bleeding a bunch down his whole cheek," David added, causing more squeezing to happen from Ellie.
Lance walked up to us with a gracious smile. He mouthed the words, "I’m fine," to me before putting his hand on Ellie's back.
I stared at him as he bent to talk to her. With the he way he was facing, I could see the right side of his face better than the left. I shifted to get a look at the other side, and sure enough, there was blood. I could see stains where some of it had been wiped away, but there was more of it beginning to drip down the side of his face.
My heart dropped. I wanted to yell at Ellie and ask her what in the world she had been thinking being so careless. I wanted to comfort Lance and not the person who had done this to him. I could feel blood rushing to my face as my temper flared. I had to take a deep breath. Lance had been saying something to Ellie, but I was so overcome that I hadn't heard any of it. She sniffled and nodded at whatever he had been telling her.
"You're bleeding," I said to him, mostly mouthing the words.
"Oh, you should have seen all the blood when it first happened," David said. Others were milling around, packing up and trying to give us some space, but David was completely tuned in to what I was saying.
"Ellie, you need to tell Mr. Lance you're sorry," I said. My tone was disapproving, but it was as mild as I could possibly be, given the circumstances.
"I di-i-i-d," she said, still crying.
"I'm really fine," Lance assured me, patting Ellie's back.
Michelle, who was also a registered nurse, walked up with a wet napkin. I watched as she wordlessly asked Lance if he wanted her to take care it or just hand him the supplies so he could do it himself.
"Thank you," he said, reaching out for the napkin.
She handed him something else as well. It looked like gauze or a bandage. "I have a whole first aid kit over here if you need anything else," she said.
He nodded. "I'm fine, Ellie. I'm gonna go to my truck, clean this up, and I'll be good as new in just a minute."
He took off, and Ellie slowly released me looking around as if she was mortified.
"I really hope that was an accident," I said, still working to contain my frustration.
"It was," David said. "She can't throw. She was trying to hit the pond, which was the complete other way."
"It was an accident," my mom said. "We were all right there. Lance just happened to be standing in the wrong place. None of us saw it coming."
Ash, Abigail, and the others finished the last bits of the clean-up effort. The bus had arrived, and it was time for us all to get on it and head back to the school. I knew Lance wouldn't come with us, so I jogged over to his truck to get a moment alone with him before we left. He was sitting in the driver's seat, looking at the side of his face in the mirror. He was holding the napkin to a spot on the edge of his eyebrow near his temple.
"She sent a bandage," he said. "But it's huge, and I hated to go back over there wearing it. I'm trying to get it to stop bleeding without it."
"I'm so sorry," I said, climbing onto the running board of his truck.
I put my hand on his leg and he turned to me with a smile. He was still holding the napkin in place on the left side of his face as he leaned forward to kiss me. "It's not a big deal," he said after placing a kiss on the side of my mouth.
I was shaken up, but his kiss had the capacity to cut through all that. I loved him. That's all there was to it. I hadn't come out and told him as much yet, but I did truly love him.
"Come over when you're done at school," he said. "I've got to go back to the shop for a little while, but I'll be home by four."
I nodded. "I'll go get Sheila and we'll come over."
Lance wanted to come tell the students goodbye, but his face still bled when he took the napkin away. He was reluctant to wear that huge bandage, so I ran over to Michelle and got a smaller one. I helped him apply it to his cut, feeling frustrated the whole time that it happened in the first place. It was pretty deep,
and it was bleeding a lot. He assured me once again that Ellie had not meant to do it, and we laughed about what terrible aim she had.
Within minutes, we had told everyone goodbye, and Michelle and I got on the bus along with the students and parents to head back to school. Ellie felt terrible about hurting Lance, and thankfully, I was able to cool down and forgive her to the point where we were all laughing and acting like normal by the time we made it back to campus.
Aside from the rock-throwing mishap, the party had been a success. Everyone talked about different aspects of it when we got back. The kids loved Lance, and several times, they brought up things he said or did, including joking about being mad at Ms. Abigail about the food.
Once again, before we left, David brought up the rock incident. Ellie started to get emotional about it, but Hanna assured her that Lance would fix it up in a flash once he got back to the firehouse. (She was smart enough to know he wasn't actually a fireman by now, but apparently, she liked to think of him that way.) It made Ellie feel better, so I agreed with Hanna, saying that the firehouse was probably full of bandages and first-aid kits. Everyone else in the class looked at me like I had lost my mind, but I made a face at them behind Ellie's back, and we all went along with it.
I went home to get Sheila, and was on my way to Lance's when I ran into my mom in the hallway. She was taking out the trash.
"Where you goin?" she asked. "For a walk?"
"To Lance's," I said. "But yeah, we'll probably go for a walk."
Sheila was excited to see Mom, and she jumped up on the side of her leg as we meandered down the hallway. Mom slowed to pet her with one hand while she held the trash bag in the other.
"Thanks for coming today," I said.
"Thanks for letting me. I really enjoyed it." Her tone was sincere, and she glanced at me like she wanted to say more. "I'm proud of you," she added. "I heard some of the parents talking about you—how much the kids loved you and what a good teacher you are. You're really making a difference in their lives."
"Mom," I said, in a tone that told her to stop since her words were causing my eyes to sting with tears.
She touched me on the shoulder. "I mean it, Sidney. I don't tell you enough, but I'm proud of you. I don't know how you turned out so good."
That last part made me chuckle a little, and I leaned in for a hug. "Thanks, Mom. I'm proud of you too."
The wonderful part was that I truly meant it.
Chapter 19
It was just after four when I parked in Lance's driveway. His Camaro was there, but his truck was nowhere in sight. I walked around the patio for about ten minutes, waiting for him. I thought about texting him to see where he was, but finally, my phone rang.
"Hello."
"Hey, I’m sorry. I'm on my way home. Are you there?"
"We're at your place, yeah."
"Who, you and Sheila?"
"Yeah."
"I'm sorry I'm late, baby girl. I got in a bind at the office trying to move some jellyfish."
"I hope everything's okay," I said, imagining all sorts of possible jellyfish mishaps.
"It's all good," Lance said. "It just took longer than I thought. I’m sorry I'm late. You can go inside. You know where I keep the key. We need to just get a copy made so you can have it on your keyring."
My head was spinning. He was saying so many things that caused butterflies in my stomach. First, he called me 'baby girl', and now he was talking about giving me the key to his house. I was almost glad he couldn’t see me because I was grinning like a kid at Christmas.
"We're fine out here," I said. "Sheila's been stuck in the house all day."
"All right, well, you know where the key is if you change your mind. I'll be home in ten minutes."
I was still standing outside when Lance got home. He parked his truck next to the Camaro, and I watched as he climbed out of it. His windows were tinted, so I couldn’t see his face until he stepped out and closed the door. I stared at him in wonder. He was wearing his work clothes, and I had just seen him a few hours before, but even still, I could hardly remember to breathe as I took him in. Sheila had been sniffing around the yard, but she ran up to Lance as soon as he got out of the truck.
"I have a bully stick for her," he said, yelling at me. "Can I go ahead and give it to her?"
"Yes," I said, starting to head that way. I watched as he handed Sheila the bully stick. I usually bought her the little six-inch ones, but the one he handed her was huge—at least a foot long. Her eyes got comically wide as she gingerly took it from him, trotting off to find a comfortable spot to chew on it.
"Where'd you get that?" I asked, knowing he'd been at work since he left the park.
"Mom gave it to me the other day. It's been in my truck. She buys them for Tank, and she told me to take one to Sheila."
Lance was carrying a backpack, which I knew contained his laptop and some paperwork. He hoisted it onto his shoulder as we walked toward each other. He also held a thin parcel, which he trucked under his arm. He grinned at me and sighed like I was a sight for sore eyes. Funny because I had just been thinking that about him.
"Hey, jellyfish," I said, teasing him.
"Hey angelfish," he returned without skipping a beat.
I stretched up to kiss him on the cheek, and he returned it, smiling down at me. My smile shifted to a look of concern as I stared at the side of his face. He had on that same bandage. It was so full of blood that some had dripped out of it and was now dried on the side of his face. I let out a heartfelt whimper when I saw it and manually turned his face with my hands so that I could get a better look. Gently, I kissed his cheek and jaw several times in an effort to make it feel better. I had to stand on my tiptoes to do it, which meant I was leaning into him. He smiled at me for kissing him and bent to offer me his mouth.
"I'm sorry," I said after a chaste but tender kiss on the mouth.
"It's really nothing."
"May I help clean it up?" I asked. "I think you need a new band-aid."
"Yep," he said. He took me by the hand and pulled me into his house. "Do you want her inside?" he asked with a flick of his head toward the right side of the patio to let me know he was referring to Sheila. She had been to his house enough that I trusted her to roam around the backyard… plus, I figured she wouldn’t do much roaming, anyway—not with that giant bully stick.
"I don't think she's going anywhere," I said. "New record?" I added, pointing at the telltale square, flat package under his arm. Lance had a nice stereo system with a small collection of vinyl. I had fun playing records and often chose one for us to listen to while we were hanging out.
"Yep," he said. "I think I know what it is, too."
"What?"
"Something I ordered weeks ago."
"Why's it just getting here?"
"Backorder, I guess."
"What is it?" I glanced at him.
"Open it," he said, handing it to me. "I'm gonna jump in the shower. I'll only be a few minutes."
"I'm not opening your mail," I said at his back as he walked toward the bathroom.
"Open it!" he repeated, hollering from over his shoulder. "It's for you."
I stared at the package. I was tempted to be stubborn and wait for him just in case it wasn't the record he thought it was—or wasn't the record at all. But, ultimately, I was too curious. There was a little tab along the side that made a strip of the cardboard easy to tear, and I pulled it, wondering what album I would see when I peeled back the panel.
Van Morrison's Moondance.
It was an absolutely classic album. So classic. So many good songs.
I stared at the close-up images of Van Morrison's face on the front. He reminded me of my dad. I didn't have a clear memory of exactly what my father looked like, but from what I could recall, he was a nondescript looking white man with facial hair sort of like the image I saw on the cover of that album. My mom had listened to this album quite a bit, but we didn't have it on vinyl, so I'd never see
n the cover of it. I flipped the record over, and there was another close-up image of Van Morrison—this time with no facial hair. Not my dad, I thought.
The songs were listed on the right edge of the back of the album sleeve.
Side one:
Stoned Me
Moondance
Crazy Love
There it was.
I didn't have to read any further. I remembered the dance I shared with Lance at Abigail's wedding, and my eyes locked on the title of the third track. I didn't even look at the other songs; I simply turned the cardboard sleeve in my hand and gingerly slipped the record out of the sleeve. It was a thick black record with an army-green label in the center, and I carefully placed it on the turntable before turning on the power and putting the needle in place on the edge of the disc.
The familiar popping sound preceded the music. I smiled as I listened to the beginning of the first track, glancing down the hallway constantly and hoping I could time Lance's arrival with the beginning of the third one.
The song was almost over when I ran to the record player and started it from the beginning. I forgot about his cut, and I knew I needed more time. I figured tending to it would be the first order of business after his shower, so I went and got the first aid kit from his kitchen cabinet.
I made a little station at the table with an antiseptic wipe, some cream, and a couple bandages of different sizes. The first song on the record was drawing to a close again when I heard him walking around in his bedroom. I ran to the kitchen to wash my hands, thinking he would be out immediately, but it took him a couple of minutes. He came out looking clean and wearing dark athletic shorts riding low on his hips and a tight white t-shirt—it was as basic as it got, yet on a man with that body and that face, he looked like a million bucks.
"Is this that album?" he asked, squinting at me as he walked my way.
"Yeah, is it not what you thought?"
All In (Miami Stories Book 2) Page 13