by Kim Desalvo
Now it was Tia’s turn to sigh. “I do, Ned, and I appreciate it tremendously. I’ve already called some of the girls with the news, but I know I can trust you not to say anything until we’ve made the official announcement…”
“Of course. My lips are sealed.”
“You know, Ned, my years at Jefferson have been some of the best of my life…”
“But life has a funny way of throwing curve balls, doesn’t it?” he finished for her.
“Yeah, and this is a big one.”
“I’ll say. But it’s the best kind, too, and you deserve to be happy. I’m so glad that you are.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. A few thumping heartbeats went by before she was able to continue. “Listen Ned, this is really hard for me, but I just need to come out and say it. When I started teaching, I totally believed I’d retire at a ripe old age with a lot of great memories and a small pension. I thought I’d do it for life. But with all that’s happened…I’ve got to resign my position, Ned. It isn’t fair to anyone for me to stay. I’m so sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for, Tia—you should never apologize for finding happiness. We’ll be sorry to lose you, that’s for sure, because you’re a great teacher. But at the end of the day, it’s a job. Your life comes first, and you’re going to have a really great one. Like I said, I’ve been anticipating this conversation since you walked out the door on that Friday, and I put together a contingency plan. I talked with the superintendent and the board…”
“I hate that you had to do that over the holidays, Ned,” she said. “God knows you deserve a break, too.”
“Just part of the job,” he said. “I wanted to make sure I had some ducks in a row just in case; and I was pretty sure how things would play out, especially after I saw all the publicity the two of you were getting. You’ve become quite a celebrity yourself, haven’t you?”
“By default,” Tia agreed, “and it isn’t something I wanted to happen; it just goes with this sparticular territory, I guess. I’m figuring it all out as I go along. A lot of it hasn’t been easy.”
“I imagine not—I saw what happened in Melbourne. Are you OK?”
Tia unconsciously touched her cheek. The bruise was nearly gone; it had faded to a sickly yellow color that was easily concealed with a bit of makeup. “I’m good,” she said. “Almost as good as new.”
“I’m glad to hear it. You’re strong, and you’ve got a good head on your shoulders. You handled it perfectly.”
“Thanks Ned.”
“You’re going to be great, Tia. I’ll actually get to say I knew you when—a lot of us will, and it’s kind of exciting, if you want to know the truth. But you’re making the right decision. You wouldn’t believe the calls the Administration Building has been fielding ever since your name went public—we’re kind of figuring it out as we go along, too.”
“I’m really sorry about that, Ned, it was never my intention…”
“Of course it wasn’t, and no one blames you. Like I said, it’s been kind of fun, in its own way. But you’re right, going back to the classroom isn’t the best thing for anyone involved; I knew you’d see that too.”
“So what happens next?” she asked.
Ned went through the logistics, and Tia jotted notes. “At some point in the near future you’ll need to clean your things out of your room and turn in your keys…I’d suggest waiting until we make your resignation public so the media won’t be hanging around. I guess you have a top-secret phone number now, eh? It came up all zeros on my phone.”
“Yeah, it’s a secure number. Weird, huh? I’ll call you when I get back, OK? I’ll try and get in on Wednesday or Thursday. I’ll leave most of my things for the new teacher, so it shouldn’t take too long to pack up my personal stuff.” She thought of the two pictures of Dylan that she had in her classroom; the one of him in disguise that was tacked to the bulletin board behind her desk, and the ‘real’ one she’d tucked into her desk drawer way back in August, when she couldn’t tell anyone who he was.
“Hey Ned? I’d really like to say goodbye to the kids…I’ll call you and set something up. I may bring Dylan with me—I think they’d be excited about that.”
“We all would,” he said. “I think it would be a big deal for both of you to visit the school—would you consider saying goodbye to everyone at a brief assembly? You’ll be missed by all the kids, you know, not just the ones in your class.”
“I think we could do that,” she said, perfectly comfortable speaking for Dylan on that matter. She knew that he’d be more than happy to do that for her. “I’ll be in touch early in the week to set something up. Thank you so much, Ned, for making this easier than I thought it would be, and for your support and guidance over the years. You are exactly where you’re supposed to be, and the kids and teachers are lucky to have you.”
“Everything OK?” Dylan asked, as Tia stepped out onto the balcony with a fresh cup of coffee.
Tia smiled and sucked in a cleansing breath, releasing it in a whoosh. “Everything’s good. Nothing to do but move forward from here.”
“I’m so glad to hear that,” Dylan said, pulling her into his arms and tipping her back for a kiss. “There’s nothing I want more.”
Chapter 21
Speed—maybe that was the answer. God knew nothing else was working.
On a normal New Year’s Eve Bo would wake up and reminisce over the previous year; proud of what he’d accomplished and excited about the new one to come. He’d say a little prayer of thanks for the job he loved that allowed him to live exactly the way he wanted to, and for the incredible people that filled his life.
This year, though, he hurt all over. After the punishment he’d dealt his body the night before, his muscles screamed at him and he could barely even get out of bed to take a piss. What the hell was he thinking, pumping iron like he did it every day? Then, what he was thinking came rushing back like a giant wave, and a whole new kind of pain settled in and took hold. Lexi. Damn it all, he’d behaved like a complete ass and she’d left before he could explain—before he could tell her…tell her what? There really wasn’t a way to explain that his feelings for her ran deeper than he’d considered; and telling her would make her run away even faster than she was already sprinting. For a brief moment he considered calling her to at least apologize; although he couldn’t come up with a reason that didn’t sound like complete bullshit—I felt a cold coming on and didn’t want to give it to you…I was having a hot flash…I wanted to kiss you so bad that if I didn’t move away I couldn’t guarantee that I wouldn’t make the move…
He thought about going straight home to his place in Big Sur to clear his mind and get his head out of his ass, and strongly contemplated just pulling the covers over his head and staying right where he was for the rest of the day. But it was New Year’s Eve, and he’d promised his buddy Benji that he’d bang sticks for him during his set at one of the biggest bashes in the city. Who knew, maybe some pounding bass, the chance to beat out some of his anxiety on stage, and huge quantities of alcohol might just get his mind to a better place. God, he hoped he’d be able to move his arms enough to even play.
He threw off the covers and dragged his tired ass to the gym again, focusing on stretch and recovery, and was pleasantly surprised when his muscled began to loosen. He made a resolution that he was going to get himself into shape, and ordered himself a veggie egg white omelet and a fruit plate for breakfast before treating himself to another arctic shower. No way he was spending the day sitting in the room and dwelling on the night before—he needed to point his mind in a completely different direction, so he wrapped his head in a bandana, slid on some shades, and headed for Malibu Beach.
The party delivered on all promises and then some—whiskey flowed like water, scantily clad women with fake tits and open dance cards flitted among the locals and mostly B-list celebrities who’d shelled out a grand or more per ticket, and the music was just plain hot. It was the one night of
the year to indulge without limits; and judging by the amounts of blow and X he saw being passed around and the vacant looks on a lot of faces, inhibitions were definitely out the window.
Bo pushed the nagging thoughts to the back of his mind and threw all his focus into the present. He mingled with other musicians, danced with a handful of models, and did shots with the star of some horror flick that just hit the theaters. He was feeling pretty pumped by the time he hit the stage; a pleasant buzz in his head and his fingers tingling the way they always did when he was about to climb behind a drum kit.
“Thank you!” Benji addressed the crowd. “I’ve got some special guests playing with me tonight—can you give a warm welcome to Kyle Warrup on bass guitar!” He waited a few beats for the applause to die down. “And, someone you may have seen on television last night—a man who has stood naked in front of Penelope Valentine and lived to tell the tale—from Incidental Happenstance, on drums, Bo Collins!”
Bo jumped to the front of the stage and waved his sticks in the air, basking in the enthusiastic welcome and the anticipation he always felt just before he hit the stage. He poured himself into the music, crashing out beats with fervor and pounding his frustrations into the snare. After his final bow at the end of their set, he wandered through the crowd buying drinks for beautiful women and shooting whiskey with some cool guys. When the countdown to midnight started, with his head buzzing from the bourbon and the music, he found a tantalizing honey-colored beauty in his arms and pulled her in for a long and lingering kiss as confetti rained down around them and Auld Lang Syne was plucked on a blues guitar.
“Hey Mr. Bo Collins,” she purred into his ear. “Want to make this a real happy new year? I’m just three floors up…want to join me for a nightcap?” She looked up him, her espresso eyes lidded in gold and her full lips tinted glossy pink.
There was no question of her willingness—or perhaps intent would be a better word—and although he wasn’t a one-night-stand kind of guy, he seriously considered her offer. He let his eyes wander down to where her breasts were trying to push themselves out of the…holy shit, really?...leopard print dress…well, it is fantastic cleavage, don’t you think? Lexi’s voice was suddenly in his head, and the image of her jutting out her own more modest; but definitely more natural; breasts burned in his memory.
It shouldn’t have had such a profound effect on him—he thought he’d be able to shake it off and take –what did she say her name was?—up on her obvious offer to rid him of his recent hormonal overload, but despite the fact that she was absolutely gorgeous and readily available, he thanked her for the offer and politely turned her down. He left her standing on the dance floor, and went to find Benji to say his goodbyes. He downed one more drink at the bar and caught a taxi back to the Four Seasons anticipating another restless night full of thoughts he had absolutely no business thinking.
Before he collapsed onto the bed, he fished his phone out of his pocket and listened to the message from Dylan; “Where the hell are you mate? I’ve been trying to reach you all day…well anyway, hope wherever you are, you’re having a Happy New Year. Oh, and I was wondering if you’d consider being my best man—seems Tia’s willing to put up with me for a lifetime, and I need you there when it comes time to make it official. Don’t make any plans for Memorial Day weekend—it’ll be a birthday you’ll never forget. Hate leaving this in a message, but I wanted you to hear it from me, just in case. Give me a ring when you can.”
“Well I’ll be goddamned,” Bo said to himself. He got up and splashed some cold water on his face so he could jump start at least enough neurons to have an intelligent conversation. He had no idea what time it was in Australia, and he didn’t care. His best friend; whom Bo had believed might be a bachelor to the end; was getting married.
“It’s about bloody time,” Dylan said when he picked up the call. “Happy New Year!”
“Especially for you, Strummer Boy. Congratulations!”
“Hold on,” Dylan said, “let me put you on speaker.”
“Hey Bo!” Tia sang. “Happy New Year!”
“You sure you want to put up with that Aussie pretty boy for the rest of your life?” he joked. “He snores, as you well know, and he’s got a whole list of other nasty habits that I’m sure he’s been hiding from you. We really need to talk.”
Tia laughed out loud. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I can handle him,” she said.
“How do you know all those so-called irritating habits aren’t just my way of making your life more interesting, Bobo?” Dylan added.
“Yeah, interesting’s one word for it. I can think of a few others, but I don’t want to offend a lady as lovely as Tia.” His voice got more serious. “You know I’m thrilled for you right? I can’t think of two people who’ll make each other happier. And ‘best man’ is a role I can easily fill—I’m honored to do it.”
“Thanks, Bo. I can’t think of a better best man for Dylan. You’ll get to stand up with Lexi, of course, so that’ll be interesting as well. I can think of a few other words too, but none of them seems big enough when it comes to the way you two behave when you’re together. I’ve missed it though, I’ll admit. I have so many great memories of our time in Europe. I can’t wait for us to all be together again.”
And just like that, Lexi was in his head once more; dancing with him at the little pub in Northampton, her blue eyes laughing as he spun her around the dance floor. “I can behave when I have to,” he joked, knowing that it would be her fiancé filling the slots on her dance card and not him. He wondered, after the way they’d left things the other night, whether she’d even be able to stomach the requisite best man/maid of honor dance.
“Really?” Dylan asked sarcastically, “because I’ve never seen that, and I’ve known you a long time…”
“Maybe I’m just trying to keep your life interesting.”
“You always do,” Dylan replied. “Listen mate, we’ve just arrived at the restaurant, so I’ll be in touch when we’re back in country, OK? We’ll be back on Sunday.”
“Sounds good—congratulations again, guys,” he said sincerely. “I’m really happy for you.”
“Thanks, Bo. We’re pretty damn happy too.” Dylan clicked off the line, and Bo immediately felt the emptiness settle in. It went deeper than he cared to admit. He fell onto the bed and threw his arm across his face. “At least someone gets to be happy tonight,” he mumbled to himself, letting the alcohol drag him down into a fretful rest.
The hangover was atrocious—he spent the day nursing it over pots of coffee and room service; which was fine with him. The weather paralleled what he felt—gloomy skies and strong thunderstorms that shook the walls and drove spears of lightning into the ground. Hardly conducive to a five-hour road trip on his Harley.
The next day, however, dawned bright and clear, and so did his head; as clear as he could hope for, anyway. The sun dried the roads by late morning and temperatures were expected to be in the low 70’s. Bo stuffed his duffel into the saddlebag, pulled on his black leather jacket and helmet, and hit the road, headed for the PCH and some wide open spaces.
Damn, he loved the power of the Harley beneath him. Once he got a fair distance from the city the road opened up and he gunned the engine, paying no attention whatsoever to the numbers on the speedometer and just enjoying the scenery. The Pacific was on his left; whitecaps slapping against rocky shores; and the twisting road brought the blue of the ocean in and out of view. The sleek machine glided over the pavement, its telltale growl drowning out the sounds of the crashing surf. He pulled the salt air deep into his lungs, willing it to sweep away the rest of the cobwebs that clung at the edges of his mind. He tried humming one InHap’s new numbers, focusing on where he’d place the beats to give it just the right tempo. A run formed in his head, and he mentally planned out a killer solo that he’d put somewhere in the summer shows; maybe in the middle of House Without a Home.
He slipped into auto-pilot; he’d driven this road so many tim
es that he sometimes thought his bike knew the way home. He was just considering adding a bongo to the solo when, without warning, his bike lurched beneath him and he had to cut the handlebar to straighten himself. His stomach lurched in response, and he was instantly snapped back to focus. Just as he glanced into the rear-view mirror to see if he’d hit something, he felt the road go out from under him again. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion then—he felt the knot in his stomach as he realized what was happening. Earthquake. And he was in a bad place; with sheer cliffs on both sides of him. He hit the throttle and hoped to power past the cliff to his right, but the road buckled beneath him and he slowed up to maintain control. His stomach fell as the road twisted, and he turned his head to the right just in time to see a shower of rocks tumbling down the cliff and sailing into the air, pelting him like a hailstorm. Gunning the engine to get past the onslaught, he had to just as quickly pull the break as the concrete split and rose up ahead of him. He heard a crash, and turned his head just in time to see a basketball-sized boulder catapult off a larger rock and go airborne. He watched as it turned end-over-end through the air, knowing in his gut that it was going to make contact long before he heard the sharp crack! as it hit him full force in the face. There was a screech of tires, and then, for what seemed entirely too long a time, his ears were filled with the sickening sound of metal slicing hard against asphalt as he went into a slide. The bike was yanked out from under him, and he tumbled over and over, hearing more than feeling the assault on his body. There was one more audible crack, and then blissfully, his world went black.
Dylan got the call on Saturday just as they were sitting down to dinner. “Hey Chloe,” Tia heard him say enthusiastically as he picked up the call. “What a great surprise. How’s my favorite other mother?”
Tia watched as all the color drained from Dylan’s face in an instant. He sat up ramrod straight and shot her a look that contained something she’d never before seen in his eyes—fear. “Oh no,” he said, “tell me what happened.” He held up his hand to mimic writing, and Tia pulled her journal and a pen from her purse, opening it to a fresh page. She waited anxiously as Dylan scribbled notes on the paper and then chewed on the end of the pen. “Bloody hell. Is he going to be OK?” she held her breath as he paused. “I’m on my way, Chloe. I’ll be there as soon as I possibly can. Tell him to hold on.”