2. Chapter 2
Chapter two
“I guess that would be a bit inappropriate.”
Wes took his time getting off the couch to pick up the phone. “You can dial me directly instead of going through Polly. She has enough to do without being your secretary.”
“I wasn’t bothering Polly. I was trying not to bother you by asking her my question first.”
“What question?”
“How to get into the locked drawer on the desk.”
“One of them is locked?”
“Yes. Polly thought you might have the key.”
“Why would I have the key to Brian’s desk?”
“Well, boss, I don’t think it’s too radical an idea to think you might. Never mind, I’ll call the janitor.”
“Roland. His name is Roland.”
“I’ll call Roland.”
“Wait, just…let me come take a look at it first.”
Wes hung up the phone before she could protest, then left his office and went to hers. A box sat on the desk, which had been completely cleared off. Cassandra was going through the drawers when Wes came through the door.
She stood and moved from behind the desk. “Bottom right.”
Wes sat in the chair and tried the drawer, then looked at the lock.
Cassandra folded her arms across her hips. “Did you think it would magically open for you?”
“We need to pick the lock with something.”
“How about a key?”
He glanced up at her. “Do you have a paperclip?”
She moved next to him, handed him a paperclip, then moved away, leaving the scent of lavender behind. Wes straightened the clip, then jiggled one end of it in the lock. Cassandra came around the other side to watch him.
“What do you suppose he has in there? A bottle of scotch? Expensive cigars?”
Wes looked at her. “You do realize we’re at a high school, right?”
“I guess that would be a bit inappropriate.”
“You think?” He jiggled the lock some more.
“We should call…Ronald.”
“Roland.”
“Whatever.”
“I’ll get it.” The lock finally turned, and Wes looked at Cassandra before opening the drawer.
She scowled. “Well, that’s disappointing.”
The only thing in the drawer was a pile of old lottery tickets and scratchers. Wes picked up a few of them. “Seems Brian had another obsession.”
“Why did he lock them up?”
“Maybe he didn’t want his wife to know how much money he was blowing on them.”
“Why didn’t he throw them away?”
Wes dropped the tickets into the drawer. “The real question is, do we pack them with his stuff, or get rid of them?”
“If he’s hiding them from his wife, then… We should throw them away.”
“I agree.” Wes stood. “Problem solved.”
“How come you know how to pick a lock?”
“Justin taught me.”
“Your brother, the sheriff?”
“Yes. He thought it might come in handy if I ever needed to get into a student locker or something.”
“You can do that?”
“Under the right circumstances, yeah.”
“Well, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Wes stood. “Pep rally this afternoon.”
“What time?”
“Two. You need to get plugged into the calendar and the daily schedule.”
“I’ll get right on that.”
Wes nodded. “You’re not required to go to the rally.”
“I’d like to jump right in and get to know everyone.”
Cassandra spent a lot of time straightening her curly blonde hair when he knew her last. But now, it seemed she embraced the mess of curls circling her face. Hating that he’d noticed, he grumbled, “Right. Okay.” He headed for the door.
“So, once I get Brian’s things out of here…”
“It’s your office. Do whatever you want to it.” He stopped at the door. “Within reason.”
“So, I can hang my seventeen-year-old poster from the Boise Summer Music Festival behind my desk?”
Wes looked at her for a moment, then walked out the door and closed it behind him.
Over the next couple of hours, Wes had almost convinced himself he could handle the Cassandra situation. He kept himself busy and ate lunch in his office. As the pep rally approached, someone knocked on his door.
“Come in.”
Cassandra opened the door and stepped into the room with a muffin in her hand. She held it up. “What is this?”
“It’s a muffin.”
“I know it’s a muffin. Why are there three baskets of homemade muffins out there?”
“Some of the parents like to show their appreciation to the staff.”
“With home baked goods?”
“Yeah.”
She studied the muffin for a moment. “I’m guessing that these appreciative parents are all single women.”
“They could be. I don’t know.”
“Hmm.”
“Hmm, what?”
“Nothing.” She took a bite of the muffin. “Pretty good.”
“Why do you care who brings me muffins?”
“I don’t.”
“Please go eat that in your office.”
“Yes, boss.” She started to close the door.
“And don’t make a habit of eating my muffins.”
She smiled. “Your muffins? I thought they were for the staff.”
“Just go away, please.”
The last class of the day was canceled for the pep rally, and everyone gathered in the gymnasium.
A favorite tradition at the first pep rally of the year was for Wes, Tony, the choir instructor, and Vince, the basketball coach, to sing the Bridgeport High Anthem.
They’d sing the first verse a cappella, then the band and students would join in for the second.
At the end, they’d go straight into the fight song.
Wes went to the microphone and held up a hand to quiet the crowd of two hundred students. After a few whistles, they quieted down.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to make another speech.
We’re going to open the rally with our song, and then I’m going to turn it over to Coach Porter.
I can’t promise you he won’t make a speech.
” The kids cheered and whistled. Wes held up a hand again.
“Then we’re going to have a performance by the cheerleaders.
” More cheering. “But before the song, I want to introduce a couple of new staff members to Bridgeport High. We had two of our family leave over the summer. One we knew was coming, and the other was a surprise.” He waved to Cassandra and Emma Tanner, the new school nurse.
“This is Ms. Tanner, our new school nurse. Dr. Jordan is replacing Mr. Bishop as our guidance counselor. You might have seen her around over the last couple of years, but she’s now joined our staff full-time.
Welcome, ladies.” The kids clapped, and Wes motioned for Vince and Tony to join him. “Okay. Here we go.”
After ten minutes of rousing music, cheering, clapping, and stomping feet, Coach Porter took the microphone, and Wes stepped back to stand with the teachers. Cassandra moved next to him and nudged him.
“Wow.”
“What?”
“I forgot what a good voice you had. Of course, back then you only sang for me.”
“I’m not a shy nineteen-year-old anymore.”
“I guess not. I’m impressed.” She looked at the auditorium filled with teens. “They really like you.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?”
“Yes, it’s great.”
“Anything else?”
“No. That’s it.”
She moved away, and he glanced at her, then returned his attention to the coach. Polly came over and stood next to him. “How’s that going?”
He sighed. “It’s going. I hate…I don’t like how I am around her. I turn into a petulant teenager.”
Polly patted his arm. “If you’re aware of it, then perhaps you can work on that.”
“Are you aware of it?”
“Maybe a little. But no one else sees it.”
He turned to her. “Polly, this job would be so much harder without you.”
“Does that earn me a raise?”
He laughed. “I’ll bring it up at the next budget meeting. But you know Stu. It takes an act of God to get him to open his wallet.”
“Well, a girl can dream.” She watched Cassandra for a moment. “Are you ever going to tell me what happened between you and Dr. Jordan?”
“Probably not.”
“I guess I’ll just have to go with what’s in my imagination, then.”
Wes smiled. “It can’t be as bad as the real thing.”
She put a hand on his back. “Well, I don’t have much love for anyone who hurt you.”
“Don’t let my relationship with Dr. Jordan influence yours. You need to work with her, too.”
“I’ll always be on your side, Mr. B.”
When the pep rally ended, Wes headed home instead of going back to the office.
The car seemed eerily quiet after an hour of deafening noise from the enthusiastic students during the rally.
He glanced at himself in the rearview mirror.
It had been an exhausting day, and it showed in the dark circles under his eyes.
Or maybe he was just getting old. He shook it off. “Tomorrow will be better.”
Remembering he didn’t have much food at home and didn’t feel like cooking, he drove to Rocco’s. It was a little early for the dinner rush, so the place was almost empty. He got a wave from both Abe and Gentry as he walked through the door.
When he went to a booth and sat down, Maggie came over with a glass of water and a smile. “You look like you had a day.”
He leaned back in the booth. “I’ve had better.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I left early to make up for it. Will you have Abe make me the Weston Special?”
“Yes. What size?”
“Um…a medium. What I can’t eat, I’ll take home.”
“Beer?”
He blew out a breath. “A little early for me, but hell, why not?”
While he was waiting for his pizza, Abe came to the table and slid into the seat across from him. “Cassandra, huh?”
Wes glanced at Gentry in the kitchen. “Don’t you two have anything better to do than gossip about me?”
“It’s not gossip, man. You’re not happy. That concerns us all.”
“I’m fine.”
“You left work early, and you’re drinking a beer at four o’clock in the afternoon.”
Wes picked up the beer and took a sip. “I’ve seen you drink a lot earlier than this.”
“Well, yeah. That’s me.”
Wes sighed. “I can deal with working with Cassandra.”
“Okay.” He motioned toward the door. “How about seeing her out of work?”
Wes looked over his shoulder. “Are you kidding me?”
Abe grinned. “Maybe she won’t see you. I’ll go distract her.”
Wes fought the urge to glance over his shoulder again to see what Abe was doing. When Maggie arrived with his pizza, she smiled. “So, who is this beautiful woman Abe is trying to keep away from you?”
“She’s still here?”
“Waiting for a pizza to take home.”
“She hasn’t seen me yet, so maybe I’m safe.”
Maggie looked toward the counter. “Um…”
“Damn.”
“I’m sorry. Maybe I drew her attention.”
“It’s not you. She has her ‘let’s ruin Wes’ day’ radar going.”
“Here she comes.” Maggie took a few steps back from the table. “I’ll just go.”
Cassandra nodded at Maggie as she passed her, then sat down in the booth across from Wes “Hi.” She raised an eyebrow at the beer. “Rough day?”
“Please just let me eat my pizza in peace.”
She looked at him for a moment, then got to her feet. “Sorry. I’ll see you tomorrow at work. But I will try to stay out of your way as much as possible.” She started to walk away.
“Cassandra.”
She stopped and turned back to him. “Yes.”
“I just need to get used to the situation. I’ll get better at this.”
“I know.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I know that buried under all the hurt feelings is the sweet guy I used to know.”
“Hmm. Do you really still have that poster?”
“Of course. You somehow sweet-talked your way backstage, talked to every band there, and got them to sign it for me. It was one of our last…” He nodded, and she smiled. “Have a good night, Weston.”
“You know, nobody calls me Weston except my mom when she’s trying to make a point.”
She touched his shoulder briefly. “You’ll always be Weston to me.”