Man, I just want to get out of here. It will be a cold day in hell when I ever come back to Rascals.
I climb into my truck thankful for only having the one very weak mixed drink. I punch the accelerator aim my truck toward my house.
I do not need the police coming around, not with my career about to take off. Bad boy street cred is fine for getting in girl’s panties, it is not cool for a man trying to make it in the music business. The last thing I need is to get busted for possession with the intent to distribute. Not in Nashville, they crack down on shit like that. Maybe if I was in Atlanta.
Well, maybe I’m looking at it wrong. Maybe since I need something to make me relevant, being a bad boy can be the backup plan if Addy decides not to go for it. I’ll have to discuss my back up plan with Thomas to see what he thinks.
Driving home I think about the date I’ll have with Addy Springfield tomorrow night. I wonder if she’ll be as nervous and unsure as she was in high school. It would be nice if she surprised me and had turned into a complete sex kitten. Yeah right, I just can’t see that being the case from our short encounter tonight. In fact, she strikes me as the direct opposite, and somehow, that makes it all that much more appealing.
My face is pulsing and I hope I have something frozen to put on it in the freezer. After that, I might as well just go to bed to ensure I stay out of more trouble.
It had been an okay night until those jackasses blamed me for something my dad did to them. I’ll have to call him in the morning and see what’s going on with the company. He shouldn’t have to lay anyone off with the success he’s been having. Or I hope it’s successful. I haven’t heard anything different and as far as I know, dad still pays for the apartment and everything else every month.
Chapter Six
Ada
Monday, all day at school people come up to tell me how great I did and how much they loved my performance. People seemed surprised at how well I could sing. I shouldn’t be upset because I never sang in front of them before, but I was the music teacher. It shouldn’t have been that shocking. My job is literally to teach others about music.
I walk into the teacher’s lounge to find the English teachers sneering at me. Today just keeps getting better. Madeline Smith, who I consider the mean teacher leader, walks forward and smiles cat-like at me. I brace myself inwardly as she approaches. Her heels click-clacking over the polished tiles. Ugh, she irritates the crap out of me.
“So, we didn’t know you were such a star.” Her words sound nothing like a compliment. Madeline tucks a bleached blonde piece of hair behind her ear. Her diamond earrings catch the light which is probably her intended purpose when she moved the hair. Her husband is a lawyer and always gives her the flashiest gifts she loves to show off.
She is one of those women who loves to tell people she works because she’s bored. It shows too because she doesn’t care in the least about the students. I wouldn’t be surprised to find her on her phone behind her desk while her students do on their own reading. What I never understood was if her life was so perfect why did she have to tear other down?
The other two English teachers flank Madeline. Penny’s husband works for the police department and Hallie’s husband works with my father at the Maxwell plant on the edge of town. And when they aren’t torturing their students they are sharpening their claws on unsuspecting people like me.
I wonder, briefly if Charlie works there with his father as well. I’d never thought to ask Dad about it. I guess I can ask him tonight. Goosebumps pop up when I start thinking about meeting Charlie tonight. I have to pull my thoughts away from Charlie to focus on what the hateful three are saying to me.
“We would have never known you could sing like that if you wouldn’t have done the charity concert last night. You are always such a wallflower most of the time we forget you even work here. But now we know you’re a star.” Madeline flips her hair again and the others nod their heads next to her. I know she’s being nasty, but her passive-aggressive little word punches are just sad coming from an adult.
“I don’t think I’m quite a star Madeline,” I say. “Those are lovely earrings.” I hope giving her a compliment will get her and her gang to back off some.
She beams and touches one delicately, “Thanks, Lance gave them to me just because. I’m just saying it’s amazing someone with your talent would be happy being a little ole music teacher.”
There it is, the condescending little push I was waiting for all the other stuff was just a setup. Even though she’s also a teacher at the same high school, it’s obvious she thinks she’s better. She sees English as a far more sophisticated career when compared with music, and she has a husband with money. She’s told me these things repeatedly in her underhanded way for the past four years. When I’ve been the lucky one to substitute for her class, which seems far more often than someone should be out, she always criticizes whatever I’ve done with them. And now that she knows I keep the fact that I can actually sing under wraps, she had more ammunition. Somehow, I feel like this should give me some respect, not another reason to be mean to me. These women have a backward way of thinking about things.
I give her the sweetest smile I can muster. “Well, what can I say? I am perfectly content with my little ole music room. Good talking to you,” I lie. I walk out with my head held high because no matter what that vapid little wench has to say to me, she can’t bring me down today. I have a date with Charlie Maxwell. So, suck on that English bitches.
“Miss Springfield?” One of my quieter students Jacklyn comes up to me while they’re reading a chapter in musical history. I have them do work in between singing because most of them are with me for four years and I need to feel like I’m teaching them. I want them to feel like they didn’t waste their time with me.
“Yes, Jacklyn. What is it? Do you have a question about the reading?”
“No, I just want to know what will happen if you go sing with that Charlie guy. Will you still be our teacher?” She twisted her shoe on the tile not meeting my eyes.
“I don’t know exactly. I’d like to be.” I tell her honestly. “You do know that I would rather be here teaching you as long as I can, but I owe Mr. Maxwell a chance to state his case.”
“Good, I don’t want another teacher and I’m here three more years.” She smiles and goes back to her seat. It warms my heart a bit that they care about me as much as as I do for them. Madeline and the witches can have their English classes, I’ve got the best students.
The rest of the day flies by. I finish up with my students early and have to field more questions about the possibility of me becoming famous. Some of the students are excited about the possibility of knowing someone who was on the radio, while the others like
Jacklyn are scared at the possibility of change.
I do my best to calm their nerves, telling them it’s just a meeting, no one is becoming famous. Charlie hasn’t even gotten a foot in the door yet, this is all speculative. There’s no way I’m making a decision like this right away and certainly not based on how famous I might be. I was being honest when I told Charlie I never had aspirations of fame. I wave at them and make my way to my car looking back to smile and get in like I don’t have a care in the world.
A few minutes later, I’m in full panic mode at my apartment. My stomach is stuck in my throat and I can’t seem to get it back in place. What the hell was I thinking?
I flutter around my apartment in a tizzy, tossing clothes this way and that out of my closet. When did my closet swallow all my good clothes? I have nothing to wear. I can’t make a decision to save my life. "This isn't happening, should I wear sexy underwear? Do I need to wear a matching bra? Why does this matter? We are having a business dinner. What should I do?" I ask Lila as I rush around to get ready. I hear her amused chuckle as I balance the phone against my head frantically pulling out lingerie and granny panties.