But like always, she opened it anyway.
“I know you applied everywhere,” Rhee said as Charly opened the letter. “But Kentucky? Come on, girl,” Rhee said with a grin. “You and Bluegrass music? You and Appalachia? No way. I can’t see a prim and proper sister like you anywhere near a good ol’ boys state like that.”
Charly would have smiled at Rhee’s little observation, but she was too busy staring at the letter. Because it wasn’t a rejection. And it wasn’t an interview request, either. She looked at Rhee.
“What?” Rhee asked, worried. “What is it? Another rejection?”
Charly shook her head. “No. They want to hire me.”
Rhee was shocked. “Really? To do what? What’s the job? A full-time teacher?”
Charly, still in shock, shook her head again. “No.”
“Then what?”
“A full-time dean of students,” she said.
Rhee, stunned, took the letter from Charly’s hand. “You lying,” she insisted as she grabbed the letter. Then she read the letter for herself. “The board of directors of Saint Christopher Academy in Hemingway, Kentucky wishes to extend an invitation for you to join our faculty as our new dean of students.”
Rhee smiled, happy for her friend, but kept reading. “If you accept our offer, please phone us at your earliest convenience. The contract is standard for all of our senior staff, including a five-hundred-dollar signing bonus and a paid apartment for the first year of your tenure.” Rhee began happily hitting Charly across her shoulder as she read about the bonus and apartment part. “We look forward to hearing from you. And again, congratulations on your selection!”
Rhee looked at Charly, unable to stop smiling. She knew the struggles her friend had gone through after Darryl died. She knew all about her loneliness and that damn arrest. She was thrilled for her friend. “They want you, Charly,” Rhee said. “They want you!”
Charly was smiling too. “They want me,” she said, agreeing with her friend.
“Are you shocked?”
“Yes!”
“Are you happy?”
“Very!”
“But it’s Kentucky, Char.”
“I know.”
“Aren’t you scared?”
“Scared? No. Petrified? Yes!”
“Then why are you smiling?”
“Because they want me!” Charly said again, smiling even greater. “They want me! Thank you Jesus, they want me!”
And then both friends laughed and hugged as if they were college kids again. It was the best news Charly had received in three long years, and she couldn’t stop celebrating.
Until Mikey pulled Amber’s hair once again, causing Amber to cry once again. They both stopped hugging and laughing and began yelling for that rambunctious, full-of-life, bad and stupid boy to quit.
CHAPTER TWO
The redhaired woman was still asleep when Boone Ryan eased out of her bed. He removed his condom and dressed quietly and expertly, because he was well-accustomed to those early-morning getaways. He looked at her as he buckled his belt. She slept so peacefully, he thought, as if she’d just had the time of her life and was completely content. But what was her name? Maureen? Was that it? Or was it Loreen? Or Doreen? Or was it Kate? He couldn’t remember for the life of him. They met at a bar. They both had too much to drink when they got back to her place. Her name never came back up.
Not that it mattered. Because it didn’t. He got what he came to get. She got what he came to give her. They weren’t kids mixing emotions into it. They were two older, lonely grownups hoping to not be lonely at least for one night. They had no illusions about it.
And now he was tipping out, not like a gentleman because he wasn’t one. But exactly like the bastard everybody knew he was.
He made it downstairs, out of her front door, and into his white, shiny Ram pickup truck in no time flat. As he cranked up to leave, he caught a glimpse of himself through his rearview mirror. His thick brown hair was piled high in terrible need of a comb. His big, brownish-green hazel eyes were bloodshot, with spider lines of age beginning to form along the sides. And on top of all of that, he needed a shave. He looked so bad he looked away. He was too old for this crap. It wasn’t even fun anymore. But he kept doing it anyway.
He threw his gearshift in Reverse, sped backwards, and then turned and sped away. He was out of her neighborhood and into downtown Hemingway in no time flat too. And as quickly as he had left her home, she had left his mind.
His plan was to head to his house first, to shower and shave, and then head into work. But his phone rang. And it was the station.
“Sorry to disturb you, Chief.”
“Not sorry enough apparently,” Boone responded to his officer.
“Sorry, sir, but we just got a disturbing call I knew you’d want to know about. Seems Dalbert’s got another one of his goons around the high school again.”
Boone frowned. “Slinging?”
“That’s what the principal believes, yes, sir.”
“Dammit! We toss him in jail, that bleeding-hearted judge gives him a slap on the wrist, and now he’s at it again. Who does he have over there this time?”
“Billy Ray Rogers, based on the description we’re getting. Want me to send a squad car over, or you want us to haul Dalbert in instead?”
“Both,” said Boone. “Send a squad car to get Dalbert. I’ll handle Billy Ray.” And with that order, Boone made a swift U-turn in his big pickup, and sped to Hemingway High.
When he arrived on Firestone Road, drug dealer Billy Ray Rogers was just coming out of the high school gate. He and Boone locked eyes. And Billy Ray, like any guilty man knowing the legend of Crazy Boone Ryan, took off running, his long, blonde hair flying as he ran.
Boone slammed on brakes, backed up as fast as he could, and then turned his wheel and drove his big truck across the sidewalk, between two buildings where Billy Ray had run, and out into the open field. The students that were late for school and were walking across that field were startled, but not surprised. They knew about Boone’s legend too.
Billy was fast, but he wasn’t fast enough to outrun a truck, and Boone caught up to him easily. His bumper was on Billy’s tail as Billy kept trying to outrun the truck. Billy even stopped running in a straight line, and ran side to side in a deliberate zigzag. Anything to get away from Crazy Boone.
But he was only making matters worse for himself. Because Boone was angry now. And all of that zigzagging Billy Ray was doing was getting on his nerves.
So he put a stop to it.
Literally.
As soon as Billy Ray zagged back into the path of his truck, Boone rammed into the back of Billy Ray’s legs with just enough of a tap that Billy Ray flipped into the air like a GI Joe doll and landed, with a heavy thump, onto the hood of Boone’s truck. Boone then slammed on brakes so hard that Billy Ray slid off of the truck and onto the ground with another heavy thump. He screamed out in agony.
But Boone was in agony too. He was agonizing over those fools who thought they could poison the kids of his town and get away with it.
That was never going to happen on his watch.
“Still wanna run?” Boone was angrily asking Billy Ray as he jumped out of his truck and hurried to the drug dealer. “Still wanna zigzag your ass away from me?” He grabbed Billy Ray up from the ground by the catch of his long, dirty-blonde hair. “What you got to say, Billy Ray? I can’t hear you? Why aren’t you running now, Billy Ray? Why aren’t your ass running now?” Then Boone slammed Billy Ray’s hurting body against the side of his truck.