17
Back to high school
[Midge]
Edie offering to come to Ronin’s play completely flabbergasted me. She purchased the tickets, and I thought she might consider it a donation to the high school, but when she actually walked in with Tommy on Friday night, I was equally surprised.
“I don’t go to these things anymore,” she says after taking a seat. “With Masie in college, I think I’m still in mourning over the high school years being over.” Edie’s daughter, Masie, attends Santa Clara University, a good five-hour drive from the Los Angeles area but certainly closer than her original home in Chicago. Edie’s story of moving to California fascinates me, and truthfully, I’m a little jealous of her happily-ever-after tale.
“It is so generous of you to attend. Ronin is thrilled to have the support. He misses family most when these types of opportunities arise.” My parents and Paul’s used to attend as much as they could of our children’s activities. With us living more than a thousand miles away, that’s no longer a possibility.
“I’m so excited. Les Misérables is one of my favorite musicals.”
“Darlin’, you know nothing about music,” Tommy teases beside her.
“I know about this,” she huffs until his tattooed arm surrounds her. Yep, happily-ever-after.
“Got a seat for me?” All three of us look up at the same time to see Hank standing in a light gray crew neck sweater and dark jeans. Two bands of bracelets circle his wrist. He’s a vision of masculinity, and I just want to lick him. I’d purposely left an empty seat next to me although, secretly, I was afraid to believe he’d show. I motion for him to sit as I don’t trust myself to stand and greet him. I might tackle him in the aisle with my relief.
“Hank?” Edie states, a question in her voice as she looks over at me. Tommy leans over, and the two men shake hands.
“Surprised to see you here,” Tommy adds, inquiry lingering in his tone, but Hank sits back the second they release hands and glances over at me.
“You seem surprised, too,” he whispers.
“Not surprised, just…hesitant.”
“I like it better when you’re overwhelmed, lady.” The statement reminds me of our first night together, the one when I cried during sex. The memory embarrasses me, and I blush. In a classic Hank move, he leans forward and kisses me briefly. Sharp. Quick. Public.
“You look pretty,” he says, staring me directly in the eyes.
“Oh my,” Edie mutters beside me, and I hear the flapping of a program as a fan while a low whistle comes from Tommy. A tap on my shoulder opposite Hank turns my attention to Tommy. His firm finger presses on my shoulder.
“You’ve got some explaining to do.” The words aren’t too harsh, and I realize they aren’t directed at me. Tommy’s gaze goes past me to Hank. I spin to find Hank glaring back.
“So do you,” he mutters, before sitting back and reaching for my thigh. He squeezes and then leaves his hand there, making a statement to his old friend. Fortunately, the orchestra starts, and the play begins.
I embarrass myself once again as I cry while Fantine sings “I Dreamed a Dream.”
+ + +
Tommy and Edie stay long enough to congratulate Ronin. Hank lingers.
“Great job, man,” he says to my son, shaking hands with him. Ronin met Hank at the fundraiser, and I’m reminded of almost being caught by him in the bathroom with Hank afterward.
“Thanks.” It’s the best Ronin can offer as he flits off to hug more crew members and receive congratulations from other families.
“I’ll walk you out,” I offer, nodding away from the chaos of after-show greetings. His hands slip into his pockets as I lead him toward the front entrance of the school.
“So tomorrow night,” he says, and the holding breath feeling returns. I’m expecting him to say he’s decided not to attend or has made other plans. “I’ll see you then.” He hesitates, his head lowering as if he’s one of the teenagers from the play.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Relief washes over me, and I smile to reassure him when I feel like I’m the one craving reassurance. I’ve got to get this man out of my head and out of my heart, but when he leans forward for a brief kiss again, I melt.
+ + +
The next night, Hank carves out a permanent place for himself in my heart.
Ivy had to cancel at the last minute due to something with her husband, but she assured me she’d be at Liam’s game on Sunday. I don’t know why she’d come to watch him, but Liam is thrilled.
As we sit through the opening of the play a second time, Hank leans over and says, “Meet me in the hallway.” His voice is alluring and demanding, so I give him a few seconds lead before I stand to sneak out of the theater. I feel like a naughty teenager breaking some unspoken rule.
My heels tap down the wide, empty hall, echoing behind me as I make my way toward the bathroom, though I have no idea if that’s the general direction Hank went. Suddenly, two arms surround me, and I’m tugged into an alcove by a classroom door.
“Caught you sneaking out of class, Ms. Everette. There’s punishment for that.” He presses me into the corner and kisses me hard, taking his time to enforce his law by imprinting his mouth on mine. Too quickly, he pulls back, smiling to himself with his playful puns.
“In this school, they call them JUGs—Justice under God—if you get caught doing something, like sneaking out of class or kissing in the hallway.”
Hank chuckles. “Oh, yeah. Tell me more about the school.” He steps out of the alcove, still holding one of my hands and waves forward for a tour. At first, we walk silently through the emptiness.
“This place is large. Got a band room?” Hank asks.
“Of course.” I laugh. We’re here for the play we’re skipping out on, so music and theater is obviously an important part of the opportunity the school offers. I lead us down the stairs and around a corner to the enormous band room. It looks like a sound studio with golden wood paneling and rows of seats, music stands, and a kettle drum in the back. Hank releases my hand and walks right to the drum. His hand hovers over it as if he’s afraid to touch it.
Tonight, he wears a deep red crew sweater and black dress pants. The color reminds me of the giant car he’s working on for Mr. Pendelton. Minus the mechanic clothing, and despite the dressy appearance, something about the way he stands next to the drum hints at him belonging here.
“Did you play in the band during high school?” His head shoots up as if he forgot I was with him. Staring at me a moment, he draws back from his memory, then answers.
“We didn’t have band. My school cut the arts.” He sits on the stool beside the drum, his eyes still drawn to it. He clasps his hands between his thick legs.
“That’s sad.” The comment seems weak. I glance around the surrounding room, recognizing my children are at an advantage. “It’s expensive to go to school here. I mean, most kids who go here are rich but not everyone, like us. I just want things for my children. When we moved here, we didn’t know which school districts were good, so we took our chances with the grade schools but decided private high school was best.” I pause, hoping I’m explaining myself well enough not to sound like a snob. “When Paul and I divorced, Elston was about to enter high school, and we had it put in the decree that private education at this level remained a must. We share the cut. It’s why I need to work for Pendelton. Besides, it could be the start of something for me.”
Hank watches me, nodding for me to come to him. “Like what?”
“Just something I’ve been thinking about. Maybe trying to do this on my own. Be an independent contractor or something.” I shrug, blowing off the idea since I’ve said it out loud to someone else. My head lowers, and I reach for the two bracelets at the edge of Hank’s cuff. Rolling my fingers over them, I remain quiet.
“Hey.” Hank grips my hips, jiggling me a little. “I think you can do anything you want, little lady. You’re smart enough. Determined enough.” I nod without taking my eyes off the woven leather band and the wooden beads around his wrist.
“What did you want to be when you were younger?” I ask, hoping to shift the conversation from my plans.
“I wanted to be in a band.” My head shoots up and steel eyes of sadness meet mine. “Did you know that’s how I met Tommy?” The question is cautious, hesitant as if he expects me to know something I don’t.
“No. I mean, I know Tommy was in a band. Something about his sister, and they were famous, but I didn’t want to pry. It wasn’t my focus when I met Ivy and Edie. I was all about Rhythm Walk, the fundraiser.” Hank’s eyes lower to my chest, and his head shakes. “Were you in a band?”
Swiping a hand over his hair, he turns his head. “Yeah, I was in a band with Tommy, but that was a long time ago, and a very distant me.” He sighs. I sense this isn’t something he wants to discuss, but he continues.
“His sister was the girl I told you about.” He exhales, then takes a deep breath. “It’s why I’m not married. I asked her several times, but she always said no.” His voice saddens, and it breaks my heart. I can’t imagine someone not loving him. I reach for his cheek, drawing his attention to me. As he peers up, I lean down and kiss him. Tender. Sweet. I want his thoughts restored to me, not some memory haunting him. He smiles when I pull back.
“Lady, those lips,” he mutters. I’m standing between his spread legs, and his hands curve over my backside. “Can I ask you something? Why the fuck did Paul give you up?”
“He wanted a younger model and a different flavor. I caught them on the phone one night. He moved us here for her.”
“Fucking hell,” Hank mutters, and I realize now’s the time to just get it all out.
“They eventually broke up, but by then, I wanted a divorce. He’s found someone else, and they’re getting married this summer. The boys don’t really like her.”
“He’s a fool, but I’m glad he’s stupid. He doesn’t deserve you. Thank God he’s an idiot.”
“Why would you say that?” I chuckle, uncertain if he’s teasing or serious.
“Because you wouldn’t be standing between my legs if he was smart.” With that, he stands abruptly, nearly knocking me over, giving me his signature quick kiss. “Show me more of the school.”
Leading him up the stairwell and down a few hallways, we come to the gymnasium. The school actually has two, but the traditional wood floor one with the school insignia inlay is where we stop. Hank tugs the door handle, but it’s locked. He peers through the windows. “There’s a balcony.”
This reminds me of another way into the gym, and we return to the stairs leading to the theater. Heading for the backstage of the performance, which is a hallway partitioned off by a large curtain, we turn just before it. The door to the balcony remains open as a few of the props are stored here between sets. We walk to the railing, and Hank takes in the dark gym. I’m about to speak when he climbs over the railing and reaches for me.
“What are you doing?” I laugh, feeling like we’re about to do something we shouldn’t.
“Hold my shoulders,” he commands, barely giving me time to do so before hiking me over the railing as well. He balances me on the open bleacher before leading me down the steps. It’s shaky walking in my heels, and as he hops off the last step, he turns for me, lifting me by my hips again. He spins me around and leads me to the center of the empty wooden floor.
“What are we doing?” I repeat, whispering with giggles. Hank holds my hand but walks me in a circle. Tugging me, I step into him, and his arms encircle my waist. My hands come to his shoulders, and he sways. Oh my God, he’s dancing with me.
He hums for a moment, and I slip my hands around his neck. Definitely no longer teenagers, I can still picture us in my head as if we were—a pretty dress on me; a dark suit on him. The idea doesn’t quite work. He’s not the suit type.
“I never went to a high school dance.” I pull back at his admission and scratch lightly at the back of his neck. “Stoner under the stands instead.” He nods at the open bleachers. I can picture him—the cool kid with those hard eyes, a lost soul inside.
“I would have wanted to date you, but you wouldn’t have noticed me. Quiet girl with a book and taking art class.”
“Oh, I would have noticed you, but you would have been out of my league.” He huffs, peering down at me. “But why would you want to date me?”
“Love a bad boy.”
He chuckles lightly, shaking his head again. “There’s a rebel girl inside you.”
“Maybe.” I shrug, knowing he’s onto something. I’m not suggesting I want to be tied up or anything, but I like discovering sex can be a bit more than just missionary. I like sex with him, a lot.
“Paul ever see it?” The question seems strange, but even stranger is my answer.
“No.”
“Then why me?” I can think of several reasons, all of which I fear Hank can’t handle. I’m still uncertain of admitting those feelings to myself. Although his recent actions restore my faith in him, I’m still raw over his behavior the times we had sex at my house.
“Your sausage fits.”
His mouth falls open, and he stops swaying. Laughing a deep belly laugh that echoes in the empty gym, he tugs me to him, holding the back of my head as he hugs me.
“You did not just say that.” His chest rumbles against my cheek, and I can hear his heart beating through the soft cotton. Hank is security, and I want to curl into this man and have him hold me like this for the rest of my life. It’s a dangerous thought.
“Pretty lady, will you go to the dance with me?” We are already turning in a slow, rhythmic circle again, but there’s no way I can say no to this man.
“As your first? I’m honored,” I tease.
“You’re also my last, lady. And I’m honored.” My heart skips, and Hank returns to humming as he slowly spins me, unwinding the past.