by Petrova, Em
***
Cris walked out of Sarah Willis’ office, his mind totally wrapped around the sexy assistant principal he'd left standing behind the desk. When he’d accepted the papers and his fingers swept hers, he’d felt a burn straight to his dick. When she’d tugged her sweater into place, outlining her perfect breasts under the material, his mouth had gone dry. He was a breast man, for sure. And hers looked ripe and firm, like peaches. Part of him hoped Trip would cause more trouble and give him an excuse to come back.
Thinking about his kid had the same effect as a cold shower. He lasered his attention on the surly teen waiting for him across the now crowded room. A couple of teachers chatted at the bank of mailboxes to his right. Directly across from Cris, Trip straightened in the chair until his back was as rigid as the flagpole standing in front of the school. He pursed his lips together, then caught himself, forcing the unforgiving look from his face. It wasn’t the first time he’d channeled his own father’s disappointment. That crazy old bastard had made Cris’s life hell when he’d been a teen. Sure as shit, Cris wouldn’t treat his own son the same way his dad had handled him. He’d rebelled against his dad’s hard-ass, rigid discipline and look where it had gotten him. He lifted a hand to his bicep, reaching for the scar that had resulted from that rebellion. Fortunately, his relationship with his own father had improved significantly after Trip’s birth.
Somehow, Trip had mastered the blank stare and avoided looking directly at him as he approached. Before he reached Trip’s side, he heard his name called.
“Cris!” Sam Kerrigan hailed him. “I thought that was you.”
Halting his forward progress, Cris turned to face Sam, extending his hand. He’d first met the man and his brother, Jack, when he’d done a fire safety inspection at the Sea View, an old mansion they’d converted to an event space.
“Hey. I didn’t realize you worked here, too.” The man’s grip was sure and confident when they shook hands.
“Science teacher by day, moonlighting as a contractor by night and all summer long.” Sam gave a self-deprecating laugh. “What brings you by the high school? Doing a fire extinguisher audit?”
Cris gestured to Trip who remained seated, posture unyielding. “I had an appointment with Ms. Willis regarding my son.”
“Kit is your son? I have him in AP Cellular Biology. He’s a bright young man. Always asking lots of great questions. I enjoy having him in class.”
Circling his hand in Trip’s direction, Cris nodded at Trip, a silent signal for the kid to show some respect and get off his ass in the presence of an adult. “Unfortunately, that sentiment is not shared by his art teacher, Ms. Beatrice.”
Trip slowly rose to his feet and clasped his hands behind his back, an imitation of parade rest. Cris clamped down on the familiar unease crawling through his belly. When had his son turned into his old man’s military-style? Had Cris’s fear of Trip turning into a delinquent been the cause? More likely his fear of Trip becoming an artist like Trip’s crazy mom drove Cris to adopt his own dad’s hard-ass ways.
Sam smoothed the grimace from his face. Hmm, seemed the man didn’t have a high opinion of the art teacher himself.
“Oh. Hey, as long as you are here, what do I need to do to get on your inspection schedule for sets for the school play? Since track season is over, I got tapped to build the stage. Some of our lighting equipment is old, but according to our maintenance supervisor, it’s okay. I’d rather have it looked at to be sure.”
“Just give me a call when you are ready for me. I’d be happy to help. Can’t risk a fire in a packed auditorium.” Cris suppressed a shudder, refusing to envision every firefighter’s worst nightmare.
“Packed. Good one, Cris. I’m not sure how many people will be jamming the aisles to see Mame.” Sam’s laugh boomed off the windows over Trip’s head. The man jerked his chin toward the teen. “Hey, good luck with Ms. Beatrice. I’m willing to be a character reference at the tribunal.”
“Tribunal?” Oh, fuck. Cris was hearing military lingo now. Ms. Willis hadn’t said anything about a trial. The muscles in his back seized, drawing up his shoulders, and he tightened his fist around the papers she’d given him.
“Kidding.” The grin on the man’s face relaxed the sudden twinge in Cris’s neck. Sam shook Cris’s hand again before directing his attention to Trip. “Tomorrow, we’re starting a new unit on flesh-eating bacteria. Bring plenty of hand sanitizer.”
“Yes, sir.” Trip chanced a glance at Cris, who held his peace as Sam moved over to speak to Ms. Malloy. They both knew Trip wouldn’t be in class tomorrow. And by tomorrow morning, Sam would, too.
“Ready? I’ll drop you by home, but I have to go back to the office.”
“Can I...?” He didn’t finish his question.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Trip shouldered his backpack and headed toward the door.
Cris wondered what he was about to ask. Did he want to go to the office with him? When Trip was younger, he’d loved to go to the firehouse after Cris had picked him up from school. Of course, that was before he’d uprooted Trip from his comfortable world. In his deepest heart, Cris had thought the move to Granite Pointe would help them get back to the place where they were friends, not angry teen and scared shitless dad.
The possibility in Trip’s question made Cris think he might have made the right choice.
Chapter Three
Sarah heard the shouting from thirty feet away before she even saw the entrance to the Main Office. Scalding coffee from her to-go cup sloshed over her fingers when she squeezed her hand tighter around the flimsy paper. As she pushed through the glass entry door, the noise escalated. On the opposite end of the room, Mary Sherman shook her finger in Stuart Ashton’s reddened face. His hands were clenched tightly at his sides, his posture stiff as he stood silent in the face of Mary’s rant.
“You are not in charge of this play. I’m the theatrical director.” Mary thumped her chest as she spoke, spittle flying from her mouth to land on Ashton’s shirt.
Stuart crinkled his nose and drew a handkerchief from his pocket. The man’s upper lip trembled as he scrubbed the darkened spots on his blue oxford-cloth shirt. “Mary, you couldn’t direct your way out of a wet paper bag. You don’t have a clue what you are doing. Pam Macon did a much better job, and she was the home economics teacher.”
Sarah nearly stumbled when he delivered his put-down with theatrical aplomb. He did not just throw Mary’s arch-rival in her face. Mary’s inappropriate shout of glee when Pam announced her retirement was legend in the teachers’ lounge. This was going to get ugly. Sarah set her coffee and briefcase on the corner of Molly’s desk and shot the secretary a WTF look. Molly grimaced and shook her head.
“You think you can do better?” Mary demanded, jamming her hands on her hips. “Why don’t you take it over then?”
“No way in hell. You be the big cheese on this. In fact, you can fucking have it all. Music and everything. I’m done.” He glanced up as Sarah approached. “Ah, Sarah. Perfect timing. I will not be continuing as Musical Director for the fall play.”
“Now, Stuart—” she began.
Mary cut her off. “You can’t quit, you sniveling ass. You think you can do better, then prove it. I quit.”
Just what Sarah didn’t need. If they both quit, then she’d have to step in to run the production or disappoint a lot of students. Her gut twisted like a dirty dishrag being wrung out. She held up a placating hand. “Mary, Stuart, you can’t quit. The students will be so disappointed.”
“I will not work with this—this—banshee,” said Stuart, his tone frosty and condescending.
“Well, I won’t work with him, either.” Mary crossed her arms and lifted her chin.
With one last look at Mary, as though her chin would be a perfect target for a right hook, Stuart shook his head. “Sarah, I’m sorry, but I’m out for the play unless you find a new director.”
His dramatic announcement and the harsh s
ound of Stuart’s boots as he stalked away reduced everyone else present in the office to sudden silence. The glass in the door rattled when he slammed it shut behind him. With one last glare at Mary, he disappeared down the hallway.
Mary sighed theatrically. “Well, I’m out, too. This is horseshit.” She turned and flounced away like a Broadway diva.
It was a shame Sarah couldn’t hand out detentions for teachers who broke the profanity rules. She looked at the small crowd of students gawking on the other side of the counter. She clapped her hands together, then shooed them away. “Show’s over, people. First period starts in five minutes. Get to your classrooms.”
Tom Edwards’ door flew open, and the principal’s bulky body filled the frame. “Morning, Sarah. A word please.” He stepped aside and gestured her to join him in the inner sanctum.
Retrieving her briefcase and coffee from Molly’s desk, she drew a deep breath. As she scooted past Tom through the door, she muttered, “You are such a chicken. Hiding out in your office while I dealt with diva and the dude.”
His basso profundo laughter filled the small office as he shut the door behind her. “I have to pick my battles wisely, Sarah. That’s why they pay me the big bucks. You deal with the teachers. I deal with the school board.” He moved behind his desk and lifted his gaze to her. “Unless you want to trade?”
“Thanks, no thanks.” Sarah said as she perched on the chair opposite him. Teachers’ squabbles were a pain in her patootie, but the last thing she wanted to do was deal with the political maneuvering of the duly elected school board. That group of yahoos was about power, not education.
“So, I gather we find ourselves without a theatrical or musical director for the fall production.”
Sarah nodded. “Yeah, but we are probably better off. No way was Mary going to live up to the expectations Pam set before she retired. And Stuart...” She lifted her shoulders in a shrug but didn’t continue the thought.
“What’s the plan? Can you get Pam to step out of retirement to help out?”
“I’m sure she’d do it if she wasn’t traveling in Europe at the moment.” Lucky woman.
“You up for taking it over?” Tom asked, elbows propped on his desk, his fingers steepled.
Sarah huffed out a breath and pinched the bridge of her nose. So much responsibility...so much extra work. “I don’t know, Tom. I suppose I could handle the performance part. I minored in the arts in college and took some production classes. But I don’t have a clue about the music part.” She flopped back in the chair, the hard wooden slats digging uncomfortably into her shoulders.
“Know anyone you can ask to help on that front? Possibly the choir director at my church could help,” Tom offered.
Studying her feet, she gave it some thought. “I could ask Pippa Mathers. Her background is music. We were just talking the other day over coffee about how she wanted to get involved with some community things.”
“Pippa Mathers? Do I know her?”
“She’s Sam Kerrigan’s sister. She works as a music therapist and teaches some private lessons. A lot of the kids know her already.”
Tom pressed his palms to the desk, signaling he was done with the conversation. Smooth as shit, as always, he’d just made this officially her problem. “Ah, well ask her. I know Sam is in charge of the sets, so she’ll likely say yes.” His phone buzzed, and he reached to answer. He scowled. “I have to take this. It’s the school board president’s daily call. You have this under control?”
Sarah nodded and pushed to her feet. “I’ll get the rehearsal schedule from Molly and call Pippa this morning. I’ll keep you posted.”
Nodding, Tom spoke into the phone. “Good morning, Harry. What do you have for me today?”
Likely, Tom had already dismissed the problem from his mind, assuming Sarah had it all in hand, moving quickly on to the next issue.
The sick, sinking feeling in her gut confirmed she was so far away from having the situation under control she might as well abdicate the director’s chair right now. As she left, Tom was rolling his eyes at something Harry said. She eased the door shut behind her.
She rounded the corner from Tom’s office into hers. After closing her door, she leaned against it. She hadn’t even been at work for fifteen minutes and she’d already been involved in a gut-wrenching dispute. And though her meeting with Tom couldn’t be categorized as confrontational, it felt like it all the same. Gripping the handles of her briefcase tightly, she stared at her cluttered desk. Good thing her hands were full, otherwise she’d cover her eyes and hide.
This behavior was so counter-productive. She had to get a grip and get to work.
When a knock sounded right behind her head, she jumped. Heart racing, she grasped the doorknob behind her back. She spun around and pulled the door open, revealing Molly with a thick yellow file folder in her hand.
In the background, she heard Ann Walters making the morning announcements. Oh, hell, did she just say play practice began at six today? No doubt about it, this morning’s events had opened Pandora’s Box, and there was trouble inside. “What’s this?” she asked.
“This is the production file for Mame.” Molly shoved the folder at Sarah.
“Love how efficient you are, Molly.” Not really.
“You know you love everything about me.” The woman smirked and leaned her weight on her left leg.
“I don’t suppose you want to take over as director, do you?” Sarah raised her tone, willing Molly to say yes. “You’d be awesome at it.”
Molly shook her head. “Thanks, no thanks, as the kids say.” Her words echoed Sarah’s to Tom earlier. “I’ve already sent a message to Sam Kerrigan and scheduled a meeting for after the last bell. And I cancelled your appointment with the librarian. She can place the order for new software herself. You guys have already agreed on what’s needed.”
She really was efficient. Every school needed employees like Molly and Ann. Without them being the grease in the cog, the entire school machine might shudder to a halt. “Thanks, Molly. I’ll get in touch with Pippa Mathers. God, I hope she says she’ll help.” She added as an afterthought, “How many kids are involved in this?”
“I’d guess between twenty and thirty.”
That many? Sarah did some quick calculations in her head. “Can you ask everyone, stagehands, actors, and musicians to meet at six? Then call the pizzeria and order enough pizza and bottled waters to feed this small army. We’ll pay for part out of petty cash, and I’ll cover the rest on my credit card. Might as well have a cast and crew meeting to explain the changes.”
“Now, that’s a plan I can get behind.” Molly’s eyes softened behind her glasses. “You know I’ll help as much as I can to make this easier for you. Even if the only thing I can do is rearrange your scheduled meetings or grab you lunch or dinner. You are going to be one busy lady.”
Sarah dropped the file to the desk with a plop. “Thanks, Molly. Don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“It would be hard, wouldn’t it?” Molly laughed. She turned to exit just as the main office door swung open. A teen entered, clad in a tight, torn, black T-shirt, skinny jeans, and dark black rings around his eyes. A harried-looking parent dogged his footsteps, tripping the boy as their feet collided. “Ah, your first victim...I mean disciplinary problem is here. Should I send him in, or let them sit and stew for a few minutes?”
Sarah cast a glance at the mountains of paperwork on the desk, each thing clamoring for immediate attention. She could reduce the pile while mentally preparing for the interview with the student. After six years, she’d hoped these meetings would get easier. “Give me five minutes, then escort them in.”
When Molly eased the door shut behind her, Sarah sank onto her chair and began the search for her favorite Sharpie. She would need the soothing clicking sounds in the next couple of hours. If she ever permanently misplaced the pen, she’d be lost.
***
Cris stared at the jumbled mess of electrical
wires and cables that had rendered the stage lighting system a fire hazard. A cold shiver snaked up his spine when he envisioned roaring flames and screaming students. “I won’t pass these as they are. You can’t use these until you find a certified electrician to fix them.”
He’d stopped by the school to check out the lighting systems as Sam had requested. It was also an opportunity to conduct the fire extinguisher audit at the same time. It wasn’t due for another week, but he might as well knock it out at the same time. Although, waiting a few days would have ensured another opportunity to catch a glimpse of Sarah Willis. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the woman. He’d awoken in desperate need of a bucket of ice water this morning after a dream about the sensuous blond woman, whom he only just met. It was a mystery how he knew in his dream that her legs were lithe and long enough to wrap around his hips. But he knew. Just like he knew her breasts would be soft as silk and fit into his hand like a slice of heaven. Recalling the vivid dream now sent a rush of blood straight south. He shifted his weight to his left hip, hoping to ease the sudden constriction of his snug uniform pants.
Dragging his thoughts away from Sarah’s legs, Cris crouched by one of the lights and gingerly touched a finger to a frayed cable. “Who the hell messed with the wiring on these lights?”
Sam Kerrigan shoved a hand in the pocket of his khaki trousers and swore softly under his breath. He scrubbed the other hand over the back of his neck. “Our custodian thinks he’s a wonder electrician. Always messing with stuff he shouldn’t.”
“Do me a favor and never let him near these again, okay?”
“With pleasure. I’m sure he was allowed to play electrician because Mary Sherman was trying to save money for costumes. But I can’t believe how close this is to disaster.”
“Do you need the name of a reputable, certified company?” Cris dropped the cable and pushed to his feet. He dusted his hands over his backside.