Stand (Southern Heartbeats Vol. 1)

by Jennifer Rebecca

  “Fine!” I shout. “I’ll apply tomorrow.”

  “Here’s my iPad.” She says with a wink. “You can do it right now.” She smiles slyly at me.

  And damn it all to hell if I could say no to that. She even had the School district website up on her browser. Sneaky old woman! So, again, I did as I was told and applied for a job that I was sure I would never hear back about. So with thoughts of making my beloved aunt happy and a belly full of junk food and booze, I drifted off to sleep without one single thought of Joseph and heartbreak.

  Angellica

  Things went downhill pretty quickly. The morning after Aunt Mable and I had our heartbreak feast, this morning to be exact, I was thrust into the hangover from all hangovers by my ringing cell phone. As it turns out, when I was really drunk, Aunt Mable convinced me to apply for a job as a school nurse in the sleepy little town of Tall Pines, Texas; bayou adjacent mind you. Upon wiping the drool from my mouth and the crust from my eyes, I answered my phone.

  “Hello?” I asked.

  “Yes, is this Miss Andrews?” A sweet old lady voice asked.

  “Yes, this is she?” I answer.

  “This is Mrs. Truesdal, I am the secretary of Tall Pines High School. I’m calling to offer you an interview for the school nurse position.”

  “What?” I barked confused.

  “The school nurse position. We would very much like to meet you, Ms. Andrews. I have a spot open with the Principal and the Mayor at four o’clock this afternoon.”

  “Ma’am, I’m in New York. I am fairly sure I couldn’t make it there in time. I am very sorry.” And also concerned because I cannot remember applying for a job in a town I have been to once in my entire life.

  “My understanding is that all the arrangements have already been made. We will see you at the school at four o’clock.” And with that she hung up on me.

  I look up, unsure of what just happened. Clearly, people in Texas are straight up crazy. There is no way I can make it to Texas by this afternoon. I don’t even have plane tickets to Dallas and then another puddle jumper to a small airport in East Texas. From there, it’s finding a ride to Tall Pines. When I raise my gaze, Aunt Mable is standing in the entry way to the kitchen looking at me with a guilty smirk on her face.

  “What did you do?” I growl narrowing my gaze on my duplicitous aunt.

  “Just helping you get to Texas, baby.” She says with a syrupy sweet smile and a wink.

  “And how, pray tell, did you accomplish that?” I question firmly.

  “Well, the owner of the Winkler owns another gallery in Dallas. I might have promised him a showing of originals that I will paint while we’re in Texas — Tall Pines inspired. So he offered his private plane. Which is really great news,” She hurries on. “Because we don’t have to fly to Dallas first, we can go direct to Lake Miller Field.” I sigh. She arranged it all. And with that thought, I ran to the bathroom and tossed my cookies, vowing never to drink again. Oh, the lies we tell ourselves.

  While in the bathroom, I decide to wash the rest of the drunk out of my hair and off my skin. I brush my teeth twice and head to my room to get dressed. Deciding on comfort, I throw on my favorite dark jeggings that are secretly super comfy, a white vee neck t-shirt, a mustard yellow boyfriend cardigan and black ballet flats. I top it off with a multi colored paisley infinity scarf. I bundle my wet curls on top of my head in a messy bun and put my glasses on my face.

  Quickly, I throw a decent interview outfit in my carryon bag and basic makeup bag. I throw more clothes and shoes in a duffle bag hoping against hope I didn’t forget anything. I head to the kitchen to pour a pot of coffee in my face but I must have stood up too fast because all of a sudden I feel clammy and dizzy.

  “Here, try this.” Aunt Mable says as she hands me a glass with questionable contents. I raise a brow in question, but she merely shrugs and says, “Hair of the dog. You might want to just shoot it.” She says showing me every bit of the formidable ER nurse she was. I like to think I get that from her.

  It looks like a bloody Mary so I figure it can’t be that bad. And let me tell you, I figured wrong. It was bloody Mary mix for sure, and it also had some vodka in it, but that was where the fun stopped because choking back the three raw eggs that bobbed around in it was tough stuff. I slammed the glass on the counter with a shudder and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

  “Here, now chug this.” The “this” in question is a bottle of pedialyte. At this point, I will do anything to feel better and get the taste out of my mouth of that foul bloody Mary. When I set the bottle down, I feel better. Like livable better. I can’t believe I’m going to a job interview hungover. I’m moderately embarrassed for the state I seem to be finding myself in.

  “Ok. I’m ready.” I say as we make our way out of the brownstone, lugging our bags into the back of a cab, and make our way to JFK. As we drive over the bridge, I thought, what if I never came back to New York, would anyone miss me? And then I thought, I don’t much care. Here’s to my next adventure.

  We don’t go through the ticketing counter and security. Aunt Mable has the cabbie drive us through a back gate where our names are on a special list with security. He drives us all the way to the small hangars in the back where a small, sleek looking killer is waiting for us all shined up and freshly fueled.

  A set of stairs folds down from the door, a smartly dressed man comes down and takes our suitcases from where the cabbie is unloading them from the trunk, and carried them up and into the airplane. I stare in awe at the plane, I have never traveled like this before.

  “Well, are you coming or what?” Mable stares at me from halfway up the little stairs. I scurry out of the cab, throw my cute little coach purse over my shoulder, and grab my carryon with all my rations in it.

  I climb the sleek chrome steps and am getting a little excited for this trip. When I walk through the door, there is the most gorgeous brunette smiling at me, telling me I can sit anywhere I want and that the bathroom was in the back.

  I quickly stow my bag in the compartment and break out my iPad, thinking I’ll relax with either a movie or a fun book. Maybe a romance with a hot baseball player or a sexy fireman. I take my seat next to Aunt Mable and buckle up.

  I’m surprised to hear an attractive woman’s husky voice over the intercom tell us that she is the Captain and that we should be taking off shortly. Girl power, I dig it. And it was possibly the smoothest flight ever. She taxied down the runway like a seasoned pro, takeoff was so easy, I was sure I was going to be sick since I was still a little hungover, but I never felt a thing. I look over at Aunt Mable, my eyes wide in surprise and she just smiles and winks at me.

  I’m deep in my book about a handsome MLB player who is looking to end his wild ways and settle down with the girl next door, when the flight attendant places her hand on my shoulder.

  “Would you like something to drink, Miss? I have juice, soft drinks, coffee, and a variety of adult beverages,” she tells me. My stomach turns at the thought of more alcohol. I look over at Aunt Mable and she’s daintily sipping a glass of champagne while she flips through some magazine like she does not have one care in the world.

  “Maybe coffee. Black,” I tell her. She quietly pours me a mug. Like a real mug. And I hold the warmth in my hands. Talk about snazzy. This plane pulled out all the stops. And for the first time I’m wondering exactly what the intentions of this gallery owner are with my sweet aunt.

  My head is starting to pound, so I put my iPad away and shoot the second half of my cup of coffee. I lean my head against the cool glass of the window next to me until I feel slightly better.

  I decide now is the time to try and make myself look halfway human. I unbuckle my seat belt and grab my bag from the cabinet and head towards the back of the plane. When I walk in the bathroom, I am dumbfounded. This is a real freaking bathroom. Like better than my bathroom back home. Whoa.

  I quickly shut the door and set my bag on a stretch of granite countertop. I
unzip my bag and retrieve my makeup kit. All it takes is one quick look in the mirror to know I look like hammered horse shit. Today, I will be pulling out the stops so they don’t think I’m an escaped mental patient instead of a highly sought after registered nurse.

  I lay out my makeup in order of operations. Hey, I have a logistical mind. First to bat is the shimmery concealer because those are some big steamer trunks under my eyes. Then I add a little tinted moisturizer to even out my complexion, which is still looking a little gray. How Aunt Mable is fine I will never know. She’s a machine. And looks amazing doing it! Next up some powder and a sweet peach blush. I round it out with a shimmery nude eyeshadow and black mascara. It’s not great, but it will have to do.

  I toss all the makeup back in my bag as I go. I grab my brush, bobby pins and some hair spray next and make my bun look school marm professional on top of my head. I have a black suit of skinny slacks and a tailored blazer with a little kick out on the back. I match that with a white silk button down, stockings, and black pumps. I’m feeling pretty fantastic until I walk back out into the cabin.

  “Jesus Christ, who died?!” Aunt Mable shouts and I wince when my brain seizes from the trauma of the shrill noise.

  “No one. I was just getting ready for my interview. You know, so I look good?” I shrug.

  “This is not New York, child. Go back in there and put on the clothes you already had on,” She tells me sweetly.

  “Are you sure?” I ask. When she just nods I look to the perfectly put together flight attendant and she also smiles sweetly at me and nods yes. So back to the bathroom I go.

  I quickly take off my suit and throw my jeggings and t-shit back on. The pumps and hose I am not going to miss! My cardigan is so soft and comfy and my scarf ties it all together in a way that would make Pinterest proud. I add my favorite silver watch and the small diamond studs that Mable gave to me when I graduated college. They have brought me luck so far, and today I could totally use them.

  As soon as I am redressed, I immediately feel more at ease. Mable knows me too well. I repack my bag and stow it in the compartment. Once I make my way back to my seat, I continue reading my hot baseball player book. Will he get the girl? Stay tuned. Before I know it, we are landing in Miller, Texas. Ready to catch some form of transportation to Tall Pines. Hopefully, the bus has a heater since it’s still pretty chilly for spring.

  When we exit the plane there is a big black suburban with a very handsome blond man sporting some pretty decent muscles holding up a typed sign that says “Ms. Andrews and Ms. Andrews” on it. In comic sans font. I snicker. Nice. Very professional. What is he? Twelve. Our friends from the flight unload our bags from the plane and help load them into the back of the suburban.

  “Hi, I’m Sam. The OL Coordinator for the football team. You must be Angellica?” He asks moving to shake my hand. “And you must be the infamous Ms. Mable. You’re legend around these parts,” he says in the most charming way.

  “Thank you for coming to get us, I really appreciate it,” I tell him.

  “It was nothing. Plus, my mother in law would have my hide if she found out I didn’t show Ms. Mable the hospitality she deserves,” damn, he’s married. What the fuck is wrong with me. I just dumped my cheating ass boyfriend yesterday. And I’m here for a freaking job interview. Jesus, I am a psychotic mess. Mable clears her throat and gives me the side eye, clearly telling me that my silence is weird.

  “Well, we appreciate it anyways, don’t we, Aunt Mable?”

  “Of course, dear. How is Sheila anyways?” She inquires.

  “Happy as a clam since Sarah and Harper were born. Those are Aliza’s and my girls. And we moved back here when I got out of the service.”

  “Of course. One day, my Angie will stop dating giant sacks of crap and will give me the great nieces and nephews that I deserve,” she lets out a great put upon sigh. “Until then, I will have to come by and see yours.” Aunt Mable is really laying it on thick over here and the more she talks, the thicker her accent comes back. It’s a sight to see.

  Before we know it, we are pulling into town and I feel my stomach muscles clench. I try and covertly wipe my sweaty palms on the thighs of my jeans but a subtle movement catches my eye and I see Sam’s gaze is on my movements in the rear view mirror. His eyes crinkle in the corners so clearly he thinks I’m amusing.

  “Right this way,” Sam says and we all climb out of the suburban in the high school parking lot. He leads us into the building and just through the main doors speaks to a woman at the front desk.

  “Is this our nurse?” The voice from the phone call this morning asks.

  “Yes, Ma’am,” Sam drawls.

  “Right on time. They’re ready for you in the Principal’s office,” she tells me.

  “Come on, child, right through here,” Mable says, dragging me along. I’m so nervous about the interview and so distracted by Mable. I can’t say I’ve had her walk me into an interview in I don’t know how many years, or like ever. But I swear I heard Sam and the school secretary continue to speak in hushed tones.

  “She’s pretty. He won’t know what hit him,” she says.

  “Either one,” Sam finishes as the Principal’s office door snicks closed behind me.

  Angellica

  “Quit your struggling, child, and get in here!” Aunt Mable growls low in hushed tones as she drags me by my elbow into the Principal’s office. I can’t help but feel as if we’ve lived this scenario before. Mainly because we have. This Deja-vu moment is brought to you by the memories of Jimmy Fitzpatrick and me smoking and making out in the back of his 1988 Buick Le Sabre during lunch hour. In all fairness, it was a Le Sabre. Jimmy, however, turned out to be nothing to write home about. But really, what sixteen year old is. Poor kid kissed like a Saint Bernard, but I was fifteen, how was I supposed to know any better?

  “I’m coming, old woman,” I growl back in equally hushed tones. The snippets of conversation I had caught out in the front office have shot my carefully put together calm composure all to shit. “Quit man-handling me!”

  Mable and I all but barrel roll into the principal’s office in a tumble weed of legs, elbows, and four letter words befitting a sailor. I immediately stand and reach a hand out to help Aunt Mable up. She takes my hand and stands with the grace of a ballet dancer, not one fucking hair out of place. Seriously, how the fuck does she do it? I shake my head and brush some lint from the floor off of my jeans.

  “Jesus Fucking Christ,” I mutter running a hand down my face and look up into the laughing eyes of a man probably in his fifties, like Mable.

  He has warm, sandy brown hair with touches of gray at his temples, bright hazel eyes, and laugh lines in the corners. His shoulders are broad and muscular as well as his arms and torso that ends, from what I can see, in a tapered waist below his desk. The Principal has a banging body for an older dude. Aunt Mable should hook it up.

  “Hello, Ms. Andrews, I’m Principal Reynolds,” the man stands and shakes my hand over his desk. He’s got nice legs too, but I notice a wedding ring. Too bad. “Hello, Mable. Good to see you,” he smiles at her. I turn and wink at her as she bats her eyelashes at the Principal when I hear an unmistakably feral growl come from behind me.

  “Ah, Mayor Hart, I didn’t realize you would be here,” Aunt Mable says coolly. You can’t mistake the rudeness in her voice. Principal Reynolds chuckles.

  “Mable,” I whisper. “Don’t be rude.”

  “Of course I would be here. This town is my house. I make sure we keep the riffraff out,” he says darkly and I turn around to come face to face with a tall, lean man with a hard face and cold as ice, blue eyes. Familiar eyes. But I can’t figure out why. Or why he hates me. I’m pretty sure they called me, right? Or was that a drunk hallucination. It was vodka, not magic mushrooms, right?

  “Well, I never!” Mable remarks. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “You know exactly who I’m talking about,” the Mayor barks.

/>   “Maybe we should just go,” Mable says. “I’m sorry to have wasted your time, Jim. Not nice seeing you again, asshole,” she barks at the Mayor.

  “Now, just see here!” He bellows.

  “What about my interview?” The Principal hollers. “I still need a nurse.”

  “And you would have one if Mable wasn’t being her usual self.”

  Whooowhooop! I whistle with my fingers in my mouth like I do at Yankees games. “If we could all just put our dicks away for a minute we can get this settled.” I go one by one down the list of people in this office. “Mable, hang tight for a minute. Can you do that?”

  “Yes,” she says through clenched teeth, enunciating the sss like a snake.

  “Ok. If I get the job you be nice. If not, we go out in a blaze of glory and tell these two what a bag of dicks they are. Although, I would like to add to the record that Principal Reynolds seems like a nice guy,” she smiles one of her smiles that means trouble is coming and then winks. Mable is hell on wheels.

  “Mayor,” I turn to look him in the eye after Aunt Mable is settled. “With all due respect, what the fuck is your problem? I don’t even know you. You guys didn’t have to call me back, you could have just quietly passed on my resume. With that said, I am the best pediatric trauma nurse you will ever fucking find. You’d be lucky to have me as a school nurse here.” When he just nods his head indicating I should continue, I do just that.

  “Principal Reynolds,” I start.

  “Call me Jim,” he smiles, his eyes twinkling with glee and mischief. That’s a good start right?

  “Jim, can I still interview for the job?” I ask softly.

  “God, yes,” he says and I jump in surprise. “Let’s just ignore those two old birds.” And just like that I smile the first real smile I’ve had in days, maybe months, as I take my seat in front of his desk.

  “So, as you said, your resume is impressive,” Principal Reynolds tells me something I already know.