Hailey raised her hand. “You want me to keep these little guys for the unit?” She asked it as a dare, testing to see if I would lose my cool again.
“No, it won’t be for a while yet. Better release them. Um, outside. By some bushes.” I gave a slight emphasis to the last part, confident in my suggestion since there were no bushes beneath my classroom window, which meant the spiders would find a new home far enough away to give me peace of mind. “Bushes will be a great home for them.”
Hailey shrugged like that was fine with her but didn’t seem interested in further needling me. The bell rang to announce lunch, and I hid a sigh of relief beneath the clamor. I wished Hailey would have volunteered to take the peonies with her, but when the students cleared out, the vase still stood on my desk, mocking me as if it knew I would come no closer.
What were my options here? I really hated spiders. No matter where I encountered them, they never seemed right. They were always eerily out of place, whether it was a dusty corner of Uncle Fred’s gardening shed or a flower arrangement, or even spinning a web across one of the paths I walked in the morning before the heat set in. There was no context where I’d run into a spider and thought, Yes, this one belongs here.
I hated them so much that I considered calling the custodian and asking him if he would mind removing the vase for me. But Miss Lily had cautioned me that the most important people for any teacher to befriend were the office clerks and the custodial staff, and I didn’t want to risk alienating the janitors by treating them like servants.
That meant I could either leave the flowers be and not go near my desk ever again as long as I lived, or...I could put on my big girl panties and handle it myself.
I took a deep breath and a single step toward the flowers, but I faltered on the second step at the memory of the disgusting white spider emerging from the peony.
There was no way. None. I couldn’t touch it again.
Great. Now I was held hostage by Ian’s peonies since my lunch and purse were by my desk as well.
Pull it together, Brooke, I ordered myself, and this time myself tried harder. What if I could get rid of the flowers without touching them directly? I checked the trash can beside the door for the extra trash bags the custodians stored beneath each liner for easy switching out at the end of the day.
I removed one and shook it out to make sure it would be big enough for peony/vase/spider containment. Then with a deep breath, I rushed the peonies like Elmer Fudd going after a rabbit with his net aloft, swept the trash bag over the flowers, cinched it beneath the base, and jerked the whole mess upright while dancing back from the desk in case I’d missed any spiders.
I didn’t see any of Satan’s beasties on the desktop, and if any remained in the peonies, my death grip on the garbage bag would make sure they didn’t escape. I whisked it out of my classroom and went looking for one of the large campus garbage cans to dispose of it, but each one I passed still felt far too close to my classroom.
I finally reached one near the outdoor basketball court that looked to be the last possible garbage can where I could drop the peonies, and I flung the trash bag in and pivoted toward my classroom, ready to eat my lunch and get ready for my next class.
“Hey, there,” a male voice called behind me, one that didn’t sound like a sophomore.
I turned and spied one of the PE coaches. He was new this year too, and I racked my brain for his name but couldn’t come up with it. I’d been introduced to so many other teachers during the in-service meetings last week.
“Hi. Used your garbage can. Hope that’s okay.”
“Depends,” he said, coming closer. He was only about 5’10 but he had the broad, square build of a wrestler, and it made him seem taller. “You’re the new science teacher, right? Is this some kind of Breaking Bad scenario where you’re cooking meth on your lunch break in your class lab and disposing of the evidence?”
I held up my hands in the universal sign for “you caught me.” “Meth cleverly disguised as spider-infested peonies.”
“Smart,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips. “I’m Noah Redmond, by the way. The other new kid. PE and wrestling coach.”
I accepted his outstretched hand for a shake. “Are we the only two new teachers this year?”
“I think so. Want to form an alliance?”
“What are we doing in this alliance?”
“I’m thinking it’s mainly an alliance where we have lunch together sometimes so neither of us has to sit alone as the new kid.”
I pretended to think. “How do I know that if I say yes, I’m not accidentally choosing the loser table?”
He laughed. “Let me see if I got this right. Between the science nerd and the jock, you’re worried that I’m the one at the loser table?”
“Those are fighting words, Mr. Redmond.”
“That’s scary coming from the local meth dealer. Would it help you feel better to know that my undergrad degree is in human anatomy and I love comic books?”
It was my turn to laugh. “So what you’re saying is that you’re actually the huge nerd?”
He grinned. “That’s what I’m saying.”
“I’ve always liked the nerd table. Lunch sounds great.”
“I’d say join me in my office because it’s big, but it has the disadvantage of smelling like boys’ gym socks.”
“Drop by my room anytime,” I offered. “It doesn’t smell like gym socks. But, uh, how do you feel about spiders?”
He shrugged. “I have no strong feelings about them.”
“Then you should definitely come by my classroom any time for lunch. Bring your own Lunchables.”
He grinned and gave me a mock salute before disappearing into the gym.
I smiled all the way back to my classroom. My hopefully spider-free classroom. I’d made a new friend. A funny one. I dug out my salad and cell phone from my tote and took a seat far from my desk just in case. Then I settled down to figure out how to politely thank Ian for the peonies that now decorated the bottom of the most distant trash bin on campus.
Chapter Seventeen
Ian
My eyes flickered toward my phone as it vibrated. I normally never checked it when I was in a meeting with a partner, but I’d been half-expecting a text or something from Brooke once she saw the flowers. But the screen showed Gran was calling, and I sent it to voicemail. I’d call her back when the meeting was done.
Keep your mind in the game, dude. The stern talking-to only sort of helped. I tried again to focus on what Don Schill was saying.
“This will be delicate,” the older man said. “But if there’s a sitting senator with skeletons in his closet, he deserves to be exposed.”
I nodded. “Isn’t there always a senator with skeletons in his closet?”
“Fair point. But usually they’re shoved so far back that we can’t get to them. This time, my gut says we’ll find something.”
Normally, this would be when the partner who called me in would give some disclaimer about how our sometimes shady work was doing a greater good. One of the things I liked about Don Schill was that he didn’t try to dress up his motives.
“Rink is a particular lowlife, and it’ll give me great pleasure to bring him down. But also, it’ll make us a ton of money,” Schill concluded.
“We’re going after Rink?” I repeated. Schill hadn’t mentioned the specific senator before, but I wasn’t surprised to hear Rink’s name. I’d gone pretty far out of my way to plant some information with a lobbying firm that wanted to block a tech regulation bill Rink was sponsoring.
“Yeah, it’s Rink,” Don confirmed. “Slippery devil, but I’ve got faith in you. Can you handle it?”
I gave a grim nod. “If there’s something to find, I’ll find it.”
“All right, then. Here’s what the client has given us so far. I’d like end-of-day reports starting tomorrow, no paper trail.”
“You got it, sir.” I scooped up the folder and returned to my desk.
I didn’t have to look at the file to know Rink was dirty. Whatever Rink’s dealings with Brooke had been, he’d been entirely in the wrong. A couple of mornings spent with Brooke doing home renovations were enough to convince me of that. Now that I could see past the suspicion Gran had planted, it was clear that Brooke was a woman of character.
It reminded me that I owed Gran a return call.
“You’ve stepped in it now,” she said as soon as she answered.
“Uh, what?”
“Brooke is one of the most sensible young people I’ve ever known but she has one unfortunate weakness: an irrational fear of spiders.”
I held the phone away from my ear for a second to study it, as if that would somehow make more sense of Gran’s words.
“Gran, I feel like you’re starting a story in the middle. Can you back up a bit?”
“Those flowers you sent her,” Gran said. “They were a thoughtful touch except for the part where they were full of spiders. And Brooke hates spiders.”
A sinking feeling struck my stomach. “I definitely didn’t order spider-filled flowers. Is she okay?”
“I expect so, but I’m not certain,” Gran said. “I didn’t hear this from her. I don’t think she’ll even be home for a few more hours. But I asked Nancy, the attendance clerk, to keep an eye on Brooke for me. She’s the one that dropped the flowers in her room for you. Word is all over campus that there was an unfortunate spider incident in Ms. Spencer’s third period class, and that she walked all the way to the other end of campus to throw out a bouquet of flowers. So I’m guessing she either really hates you, or the flowers you sent her were the source of the spiders.”
I groaned. “I can’t get it right with this woman.”
“Interesting that you keep trying,” Gran said, her tone sly. “Why is that?”
“Because you did such a scarily good job of convincing me that she was a scammer that I haven’t been able to apologize enough to her since!”
“And that’s important to you?” Her tone was still sly.
I declined to answer.
Her laugh came across the line. “Smart boy. But it’s not my fault you read her so wrong.”
“Gran. It’s one hundred percent your fault I read her so wrong.”
“No, you did that because you’re jaded. Anyone who spent his time around decent folk all day would have seen right through to Brooke to her solid core, not found a grifter.” She laughed again. “Come on, admit it’s funny that you got her so wrong.”
“Too soon,” I grumbled. “And now I’ve made it worse. This is becoming a pattern with her.”
“Then break it,” Gran said. “But maybe not with spider peonies. Will I see you this weekend?”
“I’m not sure,” I said. “I got a new case, and I think the partners want this one expedited. I’ll come if I can.”
“It’d sure be a lot easier for you to smooth things over with Brooke in person.”
I imagined spiders crawling out of flowers and shook my head. “I somehow doubt that. But I promise, if I can, I’ll drive out.”
I hung up and pulled the Rink dossier closer, but instead of opening it, I reached for my phone. I searched long and hard before finding the perfect gif to send Brooke, a little animated spider wearing a sombrero and doing a dance.
A half hour later, she sent a reply. How did you hear? I haven’t even told Miss Lily.
I smiled and tapped out a response. Like a spider, I have a lot of eyes.
I regretted it immediately and regretted it even more when she replied.
Like a spider, I find that super creepy.
I sighed. I know. I heard it as soon as I sent it.
A minute of silence passed, and I texted again. I’m sorry about the bouquet. Wasn’t my intention.
Don’t worry, she answered. I know. They were pretty until the spider thing. But I still have the ones from last week, and those make me smile.
A goofy little wave of warmth traveled through my chest at the thought that I’d made her smile. As penance, Bixby’s is on me tomorrow too.
OH GOOD, she replied. WILL BE GETTING A HUGE CHOCOLATE ÉCLAIR AND FANCY COFFEE.
I laughed, sensing I was forgiven. You deserve it. No more flowers.
Sherrie poked her head in. “Did I just hear you laugh?”
I set my phone down. “Yes. But Schill has a new case for us, and there’s nothing funny about it. Have a seat, and we’ll dig in.”
Sherrie and I spent almost an hour poring over the Rink dossier. There was a factual accounting of the bills he’d sponsored and passed, the hearings he’d conducted as the chairman of the powerful appropriations committee, the commendations he’d won over the years. On their face, they painted the picture of a shrewd but fair legislator, committed to sound fiscal principles, honorable in the execution of his office once he’d put the scandal of his old extra-marital affairs behind him. He’d often worked with senators across the aisle to pass laws in the almost-forgotten tradition of an era past.
But.
The whisper network told a different story: the story of a man whose behavior in private was a betrayal of his constituents’ faith. And I’d learned that the whisper network rarely ever got it wrong.
I pushed the folder away and leaned back in my chair to think. “Are you familiar with the term ‘whisper network’?” I finally asked Sherrie.
“Sure. It’s pretty much always subordinates gossiping about their superiors, yes? Like servants in the old days in mansions, or actresses in Hollywood warning each other about predatory directors.”
“Yeah. The kind of thing that can’t be discussed openly because the predators are savvy enough to skirt the rules in a way that makes it hard for accusations to stick. Or because disclosure means the whistleblower risks losing their job.”
“What do you see in Rink’s file that makes you think the whisper network will have some info?”
“Nothing concrete.” I pinched the bridge of my nose as I considered the feeling in my gut. I trusted my instincts, and they were telling me that Rink was dirty. But a hunch wasn’t proof. “I think Rink came to Washington as a young senator and treated the social scene as his personal hunting grounds, lining up a string of conquests. When that caught up to him and the scandal threatened his re-election, he did the talk show apology tour, cried that he was sorry, and promised to reform.”
“You don’t buy it,” Sherrie said.
“I don’t buy it,” I confirmed. “Why does a guy like that, married with a high-profile job, even have affairs?” I knew the answer. This was a test to see if Sherrie did.
“Childhood wounds, maybe. Power, definitely.”
“Bingo. Rink likes power. To him, seducing women is part of that. That instinct doesn’t go away because you’re caught.”
“It just finds a new hunting ground?”
“Yep.” My voice was grim as I thought about what Brooke must have gone through to only be getting back to work now, two years after her time working for the senator, and in a totally unrelated career. How many more young women had been victims of the senator before her and even since?
“So you think that Rink settled with Brooke Spencer to buy her silence about an affair?”
My eyes snapped to Sherrie’s. “I think it’s worse than an affair. That’s why it’s time to check in with the whisper network.”
“Wait, boss. You had me looking into her before we caught this case. It’s an awfully big coincidence that we suddenly get to investigate Rink, isn’t it?”
“What have I taught you about coincidences, Sherrie?”
“That there are none.” She gave me a long look. “You’re a little bit scary.”
I gave her an easy smile. “Only if you’re a bad guy.”
She answered with a low laugh. “All right, then. Teach me how to crack the whisper network.”
For the next half-hour, I showed her how I’d combed through the Spilled Tea blog then met with Brandon himself to confirm my suspicions. But
I also showed her how to comb through social media for staff photos from years past in Rink’s office, then to trace the women pictured through social media posts, sifting for clues that any of them may have had the same experience that Brooke did.
“I’ll reach out to his former chiefs of staff to see if I get anywhere with them, but chances are slim,” I told her. “They have a lot to lose by speaking out if they were aware of this kind of behavior during their time on his staff.”
“But you think this kind of thing definitely went on?”
I considered the question. “The alternative is that Rink put his predatory tendencies on ice for twenty years and Brooke Spencer was too tempting for him.” In a weird way, I sort of got that. She’d had a strong effect on me in a very short time. “But the reality is, these types of impulses and patterns are pretty ingrained, and a US senator has very few people attempting to keep him in bounds. It’s more likely that he grew sneaky rather than that he reformed.”
“Unfortunately, I think you’re right. I’m already stressed about how many more victims we’ll find,” Sherrie said.
“Comfort yourself that this ends with stopping him cold.”
She nodded and rose. “I’ve got a lot of research to do.”
“Keep me posted.”
When I reported to Don Schill before heading home, the only thing I could say definitively was that based on Sherrie’s research, Rink had a tendency to hire beautiful, young women as junior staffers. There was nothing concrete yet, but Rink’s hiring pattern alone told me that we would eventually find evidence. And when we did, Rink would pay.
Chapter Eighteen
Brooke
True to Ian’s word, when I walked into Bixby’s on the second day of school, Taylor smiled from behind the counter and said, “I hear we’re doing a caramel macchiato and an éclair. Great choices. Coming right up.”
I smiled as I nibbled on the éclair on the drive to campus. You didn’t have to buy my breakfast again, I texted Ian when I parked.
I really, really did. Sorry again.
Kiss Me Now: A Romantic Comedy Page 13