Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
RAVEN
“ S hit. Shit. Shit,” I mutter to myself as I practically sprint across the parking lot to Mystic River Elementary next door.
Yesterday, when I picked up Noah from school, he handed me a flier from the PTO.
They’re in need of volunteers for their annual Halloween carnival.
I figured that getting more involved at his school might help with the issues he’s been having, so I texted the number on the flier saying I was excited to help.
I may have been a bit overly enthusiastic in the text, and to be honest, I’m nervous as hell. A room full of moms? That’s a hard pass.
But I’ll do anything for Noah. Sitting through a meeting and helping out on Halloween is hardly cause for suffering.
Approaching the main doors, I slow to a fast-paced walk, and fuss over my hair and clothing, making sure everything is in place.
The woman sitting behind the welcome desk is typing away on her computer. Her glasses are perched on the end of her nose, and her frosty short hair lies flat. Her buttoned-up blouse and fitted sweater add to the haughty air around her.
“Hi, I’m here for the PTO meeting,” I say with a smile, and sound slightly out of breath.
Without turning from her screen, her eyes give me a quick once-over. She sighs as if actually having to speak and do her damn job is the worst. I can commiserate, but seriously?
“Sign in on the clipboard and grab a visitor’s badge. The meeting is down the hall that way in the cafeteria.”
Her monotone greeting is full of school spirit…not really.
Doing as she says, I sign in, grab a badge, and hope to the good man upstairs that I keep my cool and don’t punch the old lady square in the nose. Damn this stuck-up small town and all the prejudiced people who live here.
Thankfully, there are signs to guide me right where I need to go. As quietly as possible, I open the door, but it’s like the hinges haven’t been greased in a million years. The creak is like a crackling sound, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
I slip inside and hope that no one noticed, but I must be all out of luck today because every single head in the room is turned and staring right at me.
“Sorry,” I mock-whisper, and plop down in the nearest open seat, which is unfortunately in the middle of a full row. “Sorry. Excuse me,” I continue to murmur apologies as I step on toes and purses.
“We started promptly at two o’clock,” a prissy voice says to me as I take my seat. I look up and quickly regret my “I should get involved campaign.”
It’s the snobby blonde from The Wandering Raven.
The one I told off.
And she’s at the front of the room leading the meeting.
Shit on a stick.
“Got it,” I return with two sarcastic thumbs up, even though I would really love to give her two other fingers.
Her displeased smile is unable to rattle my cage, leaving her unsettled. She’s someone who is used to getting their way. What a shocker.
She resumes the meeting, and I pay attention. I’m not gonna let Prissy Pants rain on my campaign.
“So, it looks like we have someone for every booth except one…” The blonde’s gaze goes directly to me.
They already gave out assignments? I wasn’t that late.
“Looks like our newcomer has the honor of manning the dunk tank this year,” she announces all too gleefully.
Ain’t no way…
“Thank you so much for offering to do that,” she thanks me with the fakest of all fake smiles.
She’s pulling my leg…
She looks down at the pad of paper in her hands and continues, “Now, onto the bake sale…”
I’m starting to regret this. Getting dunked in water as people throw baseballs at a target does not sound like my kind of fun. But I’m not going to let Miss Manners and her high school bullying techniques work on me. I’m going to be the best dunker there ever was.
Dunker? Dunked? Dunkess?
Whatever.
At least it’s still hotter than Satan’s oven in October or else my tits might give everyone a show that is not appropriate for a school function.
At the end of the meeting, everyone disperses, but the three-woman welcoming committee heads right for me. They’re like clones, wearing the same style of outfit.
I stay in my seat and take up a relaxed position. I’m not afraid of a few mean girls who peaked in high school.
“Hi, we weren’t properly introduced the other day. I’m Kaitlyn LeBlanc. I’m the PTO president. My husband is Frank LeBlanc. The mayor.” She holds her hand out to me, but I don’t take it.
LeBlanc? More like LeBitch.
“How nice for you,” I return with a sad smile. “I’m Raven Henry.”
“This is Nicole Harlow and Heather Davis,” Kaitlyn introduces.
“Nice to meet you,” Nicole and Heather say at the same time.
“That’s so cute. You two must rehearse that often. The delivery was spot on,” I comment while giving a sarcastic nod.
Kaitlyn’s eyes narrow, and her lips purse. She lowers her voice so no one else can hear. “I know you’re new around here, honey, so let me explain how this works. What I say goes. What I want, I get. You won’t like what happens when you get in my way.”
I finally stand, putting us on the same level. “Katie, was it?”
“Kaitlyn,” she corrects as her nostrils flare.
I don’t lower my voice when I reply. “Right. Well, Katie. I feel sorry for you. Pining after men you know will never want you back. I understand that you're probably lonely because Frank is too busy boning his secretary. But going to their place of business day after day is just sad. I don’t know what you did to make them hate you, and I don’t want to know.
So, let’s just not, okay? You can threaten me all you want, but you’ve got nothin’ to intimidate me with. I’ve faced scarier monsters than you.”
Kaitlyn is about ready to explode. Her face is redder than a tomato, and I saw her eye twitch a couple of times. Her minions are so astonished, they look like their eyes are about to pop out of their heads.
“Give me the dunk tank. Give me all the jobs you don’t want. Because, honey... ” I place my hand on her upper arm in a caring way that doesn’t match my words. “I don’t flinch.” I give her arm a friendly smack and turn, heading for the exit.
Mean girls don’t change. They grow up mean, and they stay mean. But they all can be shut down the same way. Some might advise to kill them with kindness. But I’d rather just kill them.
Charging out of the elementary school, I head back to the library. Noah doesn’t have long before school is over, but I needed some air. The air in there makes me want to punch Kaitlyn, and the air outside is too hot. So, the library it is.
Walking on the sidewalk leading to the library, the same red Ferrari that I saw outside Mystic River Psychiatric Hospital speeds through the school zone.
The car passes me on the street, but when it’s only twenty feet ahead, the brakes screech as the car stops.
The driver shifts the car into reverse and backs up toward me.
The driver in the front seat is the same man I saw with Lewis, but with him so close, I can actually make out his features.
His deep honey hair is swept to the side with extensive amounts of hair gel. His face is clean-shaven, and his eyebrows are pristine, like he just had them waxed. His slate-gray eyes are too calculating as they wander up and down my frame.
He coasts alongside me in his car as I keep walking. “You must be new?”
How original.
“Yep.” I give him my answer without looking at him.
He hangs his arm out of the car window. “Would you like a ride somewhere?”
My voice is clipped. “I’m good.”
“It’s okay. I’m the mayor.” He says that like it means I should trust him based on his title.
That’s a good joke.
“Good for you.” He either doesn’t pick up on my mocking tone or chooses to ignore it.
“I’m Frank LeBlanc.”
The dots connect in my brain, and I stop in my tracks, turning to face him. “Kaitlyn’s husband.”
Frank stops his car next to me, shifting into park, and winks. “That’s me.”
I feel as if my counterfeit smile conveys how I feel about him, but again, Frank ignores it.
“What’s your name, sugar?”
When I had the thought that I could have fun here, I didn’t mean with this slime ball who resembles a Bergen.
“It’s Raven. Not sugar.”
“Oh. So, you’re the new bartender.”
“Yes, I am.”
“How about that ride, sugar?” His own smile is smarmy, giving me chills.
A small snort leaves my mouth as I step up to his car door. He leans toward me as I place my hands on the weatherstrip. “Franklin?—”
“It’s Frank,” he interjects as his smile flashes menacingly for a moment.
“Sure, Stank. You’re married, yet you’re still hitting on me in front of your kid’s school? You know your wife is just inside, right?”
“She doesn’t have to know.”
“But that’s assuming that I’m willing to go home with a guy named Funk.”
“Frank,” he corrects.
“You see, Tank, I don’t think it’s a good look for the mayor to be hitting on the newest constituent of Mystic River in front of the elementary school. That’s not a great way to get votes.”
Frank’s face turns a deep red as his breathing gets harder and his mouth contorts. He throws his car into drive and zooms away, not waiting for me to even step back.
Waving my hand in the air, I call out after him, “Bye, Skunk!”
Maybe outside air is exactly what I needed because I feel much better.