Click-clack.
Her heeled boots echoed down the linoleum-floored hallway. Lockers, benches, and walls stared at her as the keys jingled in her fingers, fumbling with the lock on the steel classroom door. She entered the stark, cold room, set her bag down on the rickety desk, and stood as unanimated as her surroundings.
But a steady beat thumped in her ears as her eyes widened, digesting the old beat-up furniture and tattered walls. She knew this assignment greeted her with a sinister grin; the rumors swirled about the last teacher leaving on a mental health ticket. The school, known for the daily visits from the local sheriff deputies, housed the roughest kids in town. None of it mattered. She slipped on those worn, ragged shoes as a child; she understood the culture. This time, however, she braced herself for the fight these kids lacked and knew they needed a champion.
Knock, knock, squeak—
She spun toward the interruption. A shaggy brown-haired man, mid-thirties, dragging a mop bucket with a red rag flapping from his back pocket, shuffled through the door, lost in his own world. His head tilted down as the snick of the door closed behind him. Peculiar, she thought, until the thin white wire peeked out from under his collar and disappeared into the mass of brown near his ears. He proceeded to his task by flipping the rag from his pocket and snapping it in the air three times before running it across the top of the cabinet. His humming was in sync with his wiping hand, which came to a sudden stop. He straightened his stance, and he stood as still as a statue with his back to her.
“Are you new?”
She jumped when his voice saturated the air. He remained with his back to her. “Huh? Oh, uh—yes.”
“I’m Vince. You leaving soon?”
“No. I arrived today. I’m—”
“This is my wing. I wasn’t ‘spectin’ nobody.”
“Sorry. I’m new.” She held her hand out. “I’m Jade. Jade Sterling.” The man never turned.
“I don’t much like surprises. These are my rooms. Keep them neat.” His shoulders relaxed as his hand returned to dusting the tops of the cabinets.
She shook her head, remembering the last words of her master teacher: “Above all else, be nice to the custodial staff. They’re your lifesavers!”
The pens and pencils laid to rest in the top drawer, file folders labeled, and the computer desktop preferences set, she exited her room wandering the halls in search of the teacher’s lounge.
Mr. Clean sprung into her thoughts as the lemon-fresh scent coated her nostrils from the wet-mopped hallway. Mumbled voices rolled down the corridor as she approached the steel door with an etched window and a paper sign with the words, “Teacher’s Lounge” printed in the uniform Times New Roman font, hung by a single piece of Scotch tape.
Nothing’s changed.
“Can I help you find something?” The heat of a body too close sent shivers down her spine. She hadn’t heard his baritone voice in seven years. The last time sent her running from the gym as her so-called friends made fun of her for her crush on the handsome PE teacher.
“I found it.”
“Let me welcome you—”
“Thanks. I’m not new. I mean, I’m new to the faculty. I was a student here.”
“Turn around.” The command startled her confidence. She knew if he saw her eyes he’d find her weakness in two seconds flat.
“I’m good, thank you.” She turned the cold metal handle of the door and disappeared inside the lounge, hurrying toward the mailboxes along the back wall. She held her breath as he followed her. Her heart pounded through her ribcage. His presence flooded her mind and brought with it insecurities she held as a senior at Diablo Senior High School.
The small town of Diablo, located in the middle of nowhere Central California, established itself as a home to ranchers and farmers alike. Most of them raised cattle, horses, and other livestock, but a few nut and fruit farms still stood in the region. The drought hurt many of the mid-size farms, and the last fifteen years added a nail to the coffin for those teetering on failure as no tax relief or aid came to their rescue.
Her family lost its small farm ten years ago. Her parents refused to drown in the loss and sought out jobs to pay the bills and keep them afloat. Her mother took a job as a line cook in a small diner. They served passersby, most of them the truck drivers hauling the meats, vegetables, fruits, and nuts from farm to table across the states. Daddy found work as a ranch hand. He’d once been the Diablo rodeo king and his herding skills were well respected. In Diablo, there were two kinds of people: wealthy ranch owners or socio-economically challenged worker bees. Most folks fell into the latter category.
“Did you find everything?” His closeness sent chills up her spine. Cody McAllister, the man who infiltrated her dreams for years, was the son of the largest, longest standing ranch owner and Diablo’s heartthrob. He grew up with a silver spoon and the gift of a body blessed by the Gods. His sandy hair, cut in the typical high and tight cowboy style, looked perfect with a brimmed Stetson or a football helmet adorning his head. He wrangled the cattle with the finesse and speed of a jaguar, then turned around and threw the football with dart-like precision. He’d throw a spiral in direct line with the receiver and score the winning touchdown. The town cheered him on, and the girls melted into his sweet charm like chocolates melt on the tongue. Despite his seven-year advantage over her, she never stopped daydreaming about him nor those dreamy sky-blue eyes, broad muscular shoulders, and his ass in wranglers or football pants which yearned for a swat or squeeze, pat or pinch. It all depended on the dream!
“I’m good. Thank you.” Her focus held steady on the pointed tips of his alligator-skin boots.
“You’re Sterling’s little girl?”
“Yes.” Her answer was short, in hopes he’d move along and focus his attention elsewhere.
Rumors around town painted Cody as a man who loved two things, sweet candy treats and women. Both would soften under his touch and neither escaped his intense rituals and wild desires. He treated women like the cattle he roped in the rodeo. They were something to conquer but not to keep. He swept them off their feet and scored the win, then returned them to the herd to find something new. Same cycle, different day, with no regrets or regard for the fallen who cried over his moment of attention.
No, thank you. His good looks and charm attracted her as a teenager, but as a twenty-five-year-old educated woman, there was no chance in hell that Cody would tie her down and boot her later.
Cody moved his left arm and smacked his hand on the wall to the side of her head as she checked her mailbox. His cedar, leather, and farm dust aroma caught her off guard. She felt her cheeks warm and that spark from her daydreams sizzled through her veins.
“Your daddy’s the man of all trades in Diablo,” he continued, more persistent than she expected. “What brings you back? I mean, I heard you were making a name for yourself down south in one of those beach towns.”
Her frazzled nerves prevented her from gazing into his baby blues. However, the downward cast caught her attention as she spotted the corner of a brown candy wrapper peeping up from his shirt pocket. The rumors might indeed be fact.
“Decided the big city wasn’t for me. Why’d you come back after college?” she asked, volleying the inquiry back in his court.
“Rodeo, hunting, fishing, football, um—each one of those were my thing back in the day, still are,” he answered, a shrug in his voice. “When that big lineman tackled me and hurt my shoulder—teaching, coaching, and the farm were my back-up plan.” He nudged closer, but she bounced on the opportunity to squeeze past his six-foot-five frame and left his question half unanswered as she retreated back to the teacher’s lounge.
She seated herself between her old science teacher and track coach. She knew she’d be safe from the hunter lurking around the halls. Her plans were to dig her heels in and teach. The kids who belonged to the migrant community and those who were not fortunate enough to hold all the gold in town held a special place in her heart. With her help, the power of education brought opportunities for them to pave their way out of Diablo. She understood barren pockets and hard work. Diablo begged for change, and she held the power to make it happen.
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