Day Two... Much better at the suggestion of Liarbyrd

We all followed suite and for a few moments there was no sound except forks hitting plates.
My mom could only withstand the silence for two minutes before breaking it again.
“So, Kate. Any new prospects?”
I decided to play dumb. “Nope. All my students are pretty well placed where they’re supposed to be.”
Maybe she’d let it slide. Not.
“I meant men. Mary’s had a steady boyfriend for a year now, and she’s two years younger than you.”
Suddenly Jack flashed through my head. He was smiling and open and warm and the perfect man for me. Was I going to insert myself into a life that I had no business in?
“I’m not Mary.”
“You should go out more often. I’m not getting any younger. Maybe Mary could help find someone for you. One of Marcus’s friends.”
Mary smirked from the other end of the table. I didn’t like her way of getting a boyfriend. Marcus had been married when they’d met and Mary had waged a full fledged campaign to pull him away from The Raging She Beast, a Mary termed his soon to be ex-wife.
“Don’t worry Mom. I’m sure she’ll move in with one of her students and then murder him when he realizes how old she is.”
“That would be better than ripping one away from someone already bound in marriage.”
“It was an unhappy marriage.”
“He would have given it another chance if you hadn’t have pushed him.”
“Girls!”
We slunk back in our chairs, back in our respective corners.
“I may have found a cure for cancer today,” my dad stated simply, as he shoveled a bite of mashed potatoes into his mouth.
“Really?” Mom said. “That’s nice dear.”

***

Contrary to popular belief, teachers do not live, eat, and breathe school at all times... though it may seem true, especially when we get passionate about something. Teachers have lives. They like to go home, free from papers to grade, or students to discipline. They like to lounge around in their pajamas all day, eat cereal straight from the box, and veg in front of the TV for a few hours, just like the rest of civilization.
And that was exactly how I planned to spend my Saturday and my Sunday. Just me, my box of Cheerios and the remote control.
If you don’t take a shower now, you’ll regret it later. I rolled my eyes at my psychic powers, but still got my butt off the couch. It meant something was going to make me productive today.
In the shower, I pondered the potential interruptions that I might have. A water main break shutting off my shower for three days? An urge for Kung Pao Chicken that would compel me to leave the house later that night? Or perhaps something more ominous like a trip to the emergency room.
I was still wrapped in a towel when the call came in. Laura, my best friend, whispered harshly from the other end of the line.
“Katie! Get here quick! Unless we get this place moving, they’re kicking us off the schedule!”
Laura has been my friend since our sophomore year in high school when I accurately predicted the exact moment Brandon, her uber crush, broke up with his girlfriend. Laura was able to swoop in, console him and claim Brandon for her own. Of course their relationship only lasted two weeks before Laura realized that there was a huge difference between a good crush and proper boyfriend material.
“We’re desperate!”
Laura had a habit of not staying still for very long. Despite having two Masters Degrees, she had never held a job that she really needed them for.
Her current project was an all girl rock band. She was the drummer.
“It’s a Saturday morning,” I replied.
“Yeah, that’s why the place is dead. We’re calling everyone and their mothers to get down here! Call your mother.”
“Are you kidding? My mother?
“Why are you still on the phone? You should be out the door. Move it! Move it! Move it!”
“I’m still in my towel!”
“That’ll make a statement.”
“I suppose this is not an optional event.”
“Not if you want to retain your title as my bestest friend. Now put your ass in gear, Chica.”
She hung up the phone before I could get another complaint in. Laura was lucky that she’d spoken of her gig ad nauseam a week before so I knew where she was talking about. A coffee house about a mile down the road had decided to fill up a Saturday with amateur music in the hopes of attracting business. I had hoped it was an event I could avoid. Listening to bad cover bands screaming into a mike for hours on end was not my idea of a pleasant Saturday. I stared at the clicker with a sad sigh of resignation. So much for a day of vegging.
I threw on a pair of tight jeans, and the most spangly sparkly top I could find in the mad dash through my closet. I grabbed my travel make-up and hit the stairs at a run. Laura would probably throw a freak if I took the time to put on my make-up.
My Mini Cooper was waiting dutifully for me on the street. Its British Racing Green exterior and white roof were my one concession to the Yuppiness of the neighborhood I lived in. It was, as far as I was concerned, a great car for a young professional such as myself. My mother hated it. She has this huge fear of me being flattened by a big pretentious gas guzzling SUV… the same type my sister drives.
It wasn’t hard to spot the café as I searched for street parking. Laura was standing out front in leather short shorts, bustiere thigh boots, and enough hair gel to support a third world nation.
“Girl, you’re not wearing any make-up!” She gave some poor helpless male soul a push into the door of the café. He’d obviously been distracted long enough by her shiny earrings to allow himself to be caught in her web.
“I thought you were in the need for speed.”
“You’re hopeless, you know that.”
She pulled me into the café. The normally homey chairs and couches were filled mostly with members from the other bands playing and sulky people who had been pulled off the street. No one was buying anything. There was a loud clanging in the back that, if heard from a distance, say a mile, might be mistaken for music.
“Lanette! Take the door,” Laura shouted as she guided me towards the long narrow hallway that led to the bathrooms. An equally hideously dressed woman gave her a salute as we passed.
Laura stopped a guy from entering the single stall men’s room. “Sorry, buddy. Go piss somewhere else. We are in the middle of an emergency here.” She shut the door behind us and opened a multilayer make-up kit.
“I brought my own,” I said, holding mine up.
“We’re not going for the nice and natural look today, Chica. Top’s okay, but those jeans, they just don’t scream sex kitten.”
She pulled out a leather skirt so short I swear my butt would hang three inches below the hem.
“And what will it take to get you to wear it?”
“A miracle?”
“Right. Got one of those right here. Without blinking an eye, she uncapped a bottle of foundation and poured it down the pant leg of my jeans. “Oops.”
Is now the time to mention that Laura is very good at getting exactly what she wants?
“I can’t believe you did that.”
“I can. And you are my bestest friend and therefore, I will get you drunk and this will all be forgotten by morning. It will never have happened.” She swung the foundation bottle in front of me like a pendulum.
I sighed, unbuttoned my jeans, and dropped trou. She handed over the skirt with a meek innocent little smile and I slid it on. It wasn’t quite as short as I imagined, but I’d probably spend all afternoon tugging on it.
“Gorgeous, really.” She handed me the bottle of foundation and an applicator sponge. She tugged my hair out of its clip and began to attack it with gel. I smoothed on a layer of make-up and then made a grab for my mascara.
“I’ll do that.” I flinched, leery eyed.
“I have a nice top in my bag. It’s really cute and strapless with little holes where-”
“That’s blackmail!”
“Yes. Yes it is.”
She applied my make-up like a pro. A prostitute. Heavy, and glittery that screamed my price tag is fifty dollars or best offer. She declared me perfect then shoved me out of the bathroom.
“Whoah, Mama!”
I nearly turned right back around, but she blocked the doorway.
“I know what you need,” Laura said as she pushed the squat little man out of our path.
She slid up to the small bar located in the middle of the coffee house. She smiled at an older balding man who occupied one of the two bar stools.
Slow and sultry, she suggested. “Buy my friend a drink.”
He whipped his wallet out. Laura whispered something to the bartender and in a heartbeat, I had a shot of something undeniably blue in my hand.
“What’s this?”
“Why don’t you try and drink it and see?” Laura taunted.
“Are you sure you aren’t supposed to light it on fire or something?” I asked staring down at it with suspicion.
“And burn off all the lovely alcohol? Drink it, you weenie!”
What harm could one do? Drink it in one go. Yeah, thanks Spidey Sense, like I hadn’t figured that out for myself. Down the hatch. It burned, but at my age, the bitterness of the alcohol wasn’t a surprise and I kept myself from wheezing like a newbie. Not that I have a whole lot of experience getting drunk. I know how to have fun, but I’d seriously slowed down in my old age, having learned the lesson of moderation.
Have another. What the hell? Was my Psychic ability now into giving me party advice?
“Here, have another,” Laura offered, a shit eating grin on her face. I glared and tossed back the second faster than the first.
“Let me get you one,” another middle aged man with a abnormally large nose said. He waved a twenty at the bartender.
Better make it two.
“Only if you have one with me.”
Two blue whatevers lined up onto the bar. I could see the bartender quietly readying three more.
I grabbed one off the bar and handed it to Big Nose.
“Cheers, he said, Just as he moved to drink his shot, someone jostled him from behind. Blue liquid cascaded to the floor.
“So that’s what I meant,” I said, picking up the unbroken shot glass from the floor. I realized too late that a group of guys behind me now knew the color of my underwear.
Four more stepped forward to offer me another drink. I figured that if my cheeks were red from the alcohol, it would cover my serious blush. I swallowed another shot, and heard Laura demanding in the background that the men also take a shot.
“You’re doing great! People are actually buying drinks. Keep it going,” Laura said to me as she handed me another shot.
“You realize it’s ten o’clock in the morning and I’m already well on my way to being three sheets to the wind?”
“Another three shots and I’ll let Lanette take over. This place is starting to jump!”
Things were starting to swim a bit around the edges of my eyeballs. Another band went on to play. I wasn’t sure whether it was the alcoholic haze or not, but they actually sounded pretty good. I bobbed my head in time to the music, and soon my arms were moving and before I knew it, the boys had formed a dance floor around me and I was groovin’ like there was no tomorrow.
Lanette joined me and we formed a two chick spectacular of wild dancing moves. Laura hooted in the background and men cat called from all around.
Spin. He’ll catch you. Okay. I spun around with complete abandon, letting myself fall into his arms. I looked up and smiled at my knight in shining armor.
“The One!”
“Hi. You okay?”
“No, not really.” The spinning had reversed the process of alcohol into my body. Obviously Jack could see me turning green even through the heavy make-up.
“Right.” He made a path for the two of us through the crowd. A chorus of boos rang out as we went passed, but Laura was quick in picking up where I had left off.
The fresh morning air hit me like a wall as we broke out through the doors. I managed to make the gutter before hurling my guts out onto the curb, splattering some poor wretch’s tires.
Jack held my hair. That was nice of him. He’s The One. Of course he was nice. He was perfect.
“Nice outfit,” he commented after I finally stopped hurling. He leaned me against the café wall and sat down beside me.
“This isn’t me. Just wanted you to know that,” I explained. “I’m usually very mild mannered.”
He didn’t say anything. He just nodded.
“I think that’s the smile and nod, the I’m just going to smile and nod because you’re drunk smile and nod.”
A real smile crept into the corner of his right lip. I wanted to reach over pull the smile to the left, but my arms weren’t quite cooperating with my body at the moment. I might be able to manage to kiss him, but who in their right mind would want to kiss someone whose hair they had just held while she yacked up a sticky blue mess. Besides there was probably some law about kissing your work subordinate. Okay, not law. Police, no policy. Yeah, that was the right word, policy.
Not to mention the wife.
“You gonna be okay?”
“Peachy. Don’t worry about me. Laura will call me a cab. This is all her fault anyway.” I blinked at him. Them. He’d somehow sprouted an identical twin brother. “What are you doing here anyway?”
“My brother is in one of the bands.”
“The one on the left, or the one on the right.”
“Wow, you’re really toasted.”
“Just as long as you don’t tell anyone at school about this. Vanessa would never let me live it down.”
“I won’t breathe a word. Vanessa’s an art teacher, right?”
“Yup. Why do you want to know that if you’re not going to breathe a word.”
“I’m just trying to get my bearings, a new school and all.”
“Just a hint. If you want to fit it, I’d forgo the kilt.”
“I told you I had a good explanation for that.”
“I’m sure you did.” I could no longer sit up straight. I put my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes.
“Just relax and the world will stop spinning after a moment,” Jack said calmly as he placed his jacket over my legs.
I floated for a moment, losing my war with consciousness, when a final thought flickered through my brain.
Oh, God help me, I was already in love with him.


I woke up in my underwear, thankfully in my own bed. By the light outside, it had to be midday. I had a sneaking suspicion it was Sunday and I had slept the entire day. A phone ring registered through the fuzz of my brain. Laura.
“We totally rocked the place. The owner said we can have an hour next time!”
“I’m not so sure I’m your bestest friend anymore,” I said after I could finally get the furry object usually called my tongue to move.
“Do you know how disconcerting it is to wake up some place other than where you fell asleep, obviously a day later?”
“We totally turned the place into a hotspot! There’s a review in the press telegram.”
“Oh God, please tell me there were no pictures.”
“Yeah, but you can only see half of you in the picture.”
“Your right half. Well, maybe like your right third.”
“My face?”
“No. Just a butt cheek, and a lot of hair flying everywhere.”
I breathed a sigh of relief.
“So where’s my car?”
“Probably parked outside your building. The hotty drove you home. Where did you meet him, anyway.”
“He’s the new vice principal.”
“I’d so totally go for him.”
“You’d so totally go for anyone with a penis and a fairly clean police record.”
“True. Is there a reason you kept referring to him as The One?”
“Wait a minute. I was conscious? He heard me say that?”
“You only repeated it about ten times while we walked you to your car.”
I fell over backwards onto my bed and pulled the covers over my head. My life would be hell on Monday.
“I woke up in my underwear,” I stated flatly.
“Chica! Did you put the moves on him? You go girl.”
“There’s some information that I must fill you in on. But not now. Now I must take aspirin, crawl back into bed, and figure out how difficult it would be to pack up my classroom and move to a different state.” This time, I hung up on Laura.