“Yeah, I had one yesterday for a pretty decent school not far from me, so fingers crossed, huh?” I heard a faint voice in the background. “Amy says hi.”
“Hey Amy,” I said back. Amy was his girlfriend of three years, and a real sweetheart. She kept him grounded. “Listen, I gotta go. A work thing, but I’ll catch you soon, okay?”
“Sure, don’t work too hard,” he warned me.
“I never do,” I shot back.
***
As I approached the house I adjusted my black sweater and my leather jacket, trying to steady my nerves. I wasn’t a shy person by any means, but this was my first real job and I felt intimidated. I walked up the path leading to the porch and knocked on the door. Dan answered. He flashed me a grin.
“Dalton, good to see you again. Come in.” He ushered me inside, patting me on the back. I followed him through to the patio out the back where the rest of the staff had gathered. “Can I get you a drink?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.
Dan was one of those guys I’d instantly liked when we’d first met. He was the type of guy who everyone liked. He was funny, social, friendly, and he worked hard—complete with stupidly long hours—in his job as head of the Engineering department at Hallbrook University, just a few towns over.
“Sure, just a soda will be fine, thanks.”
This was one of those occasions where I wished I drank, just to calm my nerves. I stood awkwardly, smiling at anyone who made eye contact with me while I waited for Dan to return. I felt out of place, like the new kid in the playground. I’d literally spoken no more than a few words to these people. Some of them I didn’t even recognize. Layna spotted me and waved me over.
At forty-two—the same age as Mom—Layna was tall, slim, and attractive. Her shoulder-length blonde hair was cut into a sharp bob that framed her angular face. Her piercing brown eyes made her look harsh—like someone you wouldn’t want to cross. In reality, she was one of the most sincere, understanding people I’d ever met.
“Dalton.” She smiled, touching my arm. “How are you settling in? Glad the week is over, I bet.”
“Yeah, I’m loving it, but happy the weekend is here,” I chuckled. Yes, a lie, but telling my boss how I really felt probably wasn’t a great career move.
“Good to hear. Grab yourself a drink and mingle.”
She took off, already talking to someone else before I could respond. Glancing around for Mark, I saw him standing by the bar, talking with the English teacher, Gary. I slipped out the door, trying to remember where the bathroom was from last week.
After I’d finished, I headed back toward the patio. Passing what looked like a living room, I heard the unmistakable sounds of Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds
playing. I stopped and smiled.
God, I wish I was in there watching movies instead of trying to impress a bunch of strangers. I pushed the door open and ventured inside.
Wrenn sat sprawled out on a large leather recliner. Her eyes widened when she saw me. She sat upright, straightening her skirt. My eyes were drawn to her bare calves as she tucked them under her thighs.
“Mr. Reid,” she said, her lips curving into a smile. She pointed to the TV. “Sorry, is it too loud?”
I jumped at the sound of her voice, forcing myself to focus on her face.
Great, now I feel like a creep.
But I was a twenty-three-year-old guy, and she was a pretty teenage girl who was only a few years younger than me. It was in my DNA to appreciate that.
“No, not at all,” I replied, stepping further into the room. “And call me Dalton. We’re not in class. Anyway, I was just passing, and I had to see who was watching one of my favorite movies.”
“You’re a Hitchcock fan?” She grinned, her face lighting up.
“More of a classic horror film buff,” I said, sitting down on the edge of the leather armchair nearest to the door.
“Really? So am I. Nothing better than a horror movie that actually focuses on the story, you know? All the horror flicks these days seem to just be slash, blood, and gore.” She shuddered and shook her head.
I laughed. She was right. Horror films today had nothing on their older counterparts; it just wasn’t an argument I was used to hearing from someone under the age of fifty.
“So, I didn’t realize you were going to be here,” I said casually. There was really no polite way of asking her what the hell she was doing here.
She blushed. “Layna is my aunt. I live with her. That’s why I’m at this school,” she explained.
“Wow, I didn’t know that,” I said.
Wrenn looked at me strangely.
“My mom and Layna are old friends. They went to school together,” I explained.
“Then your mom probably knew my mom,” she said quietly. Her eyes dropped.
I’d obviously hit a nerve, and I noticed her use of past tense when talking about her mom. What happened?
“So, how do you like it here? A bit of a change from what you’re used to?” she asked, a less than subtle change of subject.