The national media chewed on that for an entire week.
So I wasn’t surprised that Dale and Bobby, who both had other things they were dealing with, took the opportunity to disappear.
“Lana is living it up with her stud muffin,” Megan continued. “I honestly don’t know whether to admire her or think it’s crass.”
I might not be at one with the extreme vindictiveness of the grand reveal, and not simply because two of the men involved had just lost children.
But I’d also seen Lana out and about with Dean, and when I did, her two sons were with them.
She wasn’t exactly living it up. She didn’t hide her grief.
What she was, was defiant.
She was doing exactly what countless men had done (and still do).
She was thinking first about her own happiness.
In doing that, she’d moved on to a younger, better model who did it for her.
Unlike some men, though, she loved and took care of her sons along the way, and I sensed she had genuine, and strong, feelings for Dean.
Though, as had many women, along the way she’d made sacrifices. She’d learned lessons. She’d eaten shit.
But now, she couldn’t care less what Megan or anyone thought of her.
She had a man who made her dinner and did it for her in bed and rushed to her side when she needed him. A man who I knew would listen to her when she told him to calm down because he was scaring her by being upset and driving (not that Dean would do that, but the point was pertinent).
And for that, I applauded her.
Silently.
“You admire her,” Megan said, and I caught her watching me.
“I think it’s none of my business.”
She clicked her teeth. “Oh please.”
“It’s true. I have an opinion about it, but my opinion doesn’t matter. I’m not her. I’m not one of her boys. I hate she lost her daughter. I hope the FBI can get her answers and justice and give her and her family some peace. Other than that…” I shrugged.
“I’m finding it’s no fun having a world-weary, superstar friend who’s had people in her business for…” She was turning to the line when her eyes widened, and she came back to me. “Oh Lord, it’s Ray.”
“Ray?”
I started to assess the line ahead of us, regardless that I didn’t know who Ray was, and she caught my forearm and whispered, “Don’t look.”
I whispered back, “I don’t know who Ray is.”
“Shelly’s beau.”
I turned and looked for cheerleader Shelly.
I saw her in the area where people waited for their coffee. She stood under an arm that was attached to a tall, muscular, dark-blond, handsome—
I swung to Megan like a timid teenager caught checking out her crush.
“Oh shit, that’s Ray?”
“Yes,” Megan hissed as we shuffled closer together at the same time we did the same forward in line. “It’s Ray.”
I couldn’t help it, I looked back.
Right into the eyes of Ray, who was staring at me and who knew we were talking about him—and why—and he wasn’t a fan.
I gave him a small, noncommittal smile and pinned my eyes to the line in front of us, talking while trying not to move my lips, “He saw me.”
“Of course he did,” she muttered back, and I knew she was talking the same way. “I told you not to look.”
“Shelly didn’t break up with him?”
“According to word on the street, Shelly doesn’t know.”
That made me look at her again. “That can’t be.”
And it couldn’t, considering Ray was the man who was fucking Bobby in that video.
“Shelly isn’t, you know…” She gave me big eyes and went on, “She’s sweet, but not all that bright.”
“I feel like I’ve seen that video fifteen times, and I’m trying to avoid it. She’d have to be on another planet to have missed it.”
Megan grimaced.
We shuffled forward in line again.
“I was really shocked, you know, because he adores her. Dotes on her. They’ve been together, I don’t know, at least two years. Her mom,” she leaned in but did a furtive glug glug with her hand, using me as a shield from Shelly and Ray. “That whole family is a mess. Except Shelly. Her older brother is a disaster. Her dad leaves, comes back, leaves. I don’t want to cast aspersions, but I swear the man deals drugs. Ray shows up and sweeps her off her feet.”
“Shows up?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Oh no, I mean, he’s been around, I don’t know, four years. More. I mean,” she gave me a look, “he’s hard to miss.”
He was that good-looking. I-could-see-him-in-a-Marvel-costume good-looking.
So I understood her look.
“She’s a hairdresser in town. She taught Celeste a few things,” she told me.
“Living at home with that mom, probably trying to find a way out. They start dating. Moved in together.” She straightened a bit and said, “Obviously, marriage is sacred, but for Shelly, I could see why she’d just go.”
I was feeling something strange at the same time fighting not looking at Shelly and Ray again.
“And once Malorie was found, he went off the deep end. By that I mean protective. Takes her in to work in the morning, picks her up after.”
“What does he do?”
We shuffled forward again.
“He runs the rec center. Got some grants, started some after-school kids’ programs. My kids are older. Too old for them. But I heard they’re really neat. I hope the Bobby thing was, you know, exploring or something, and he marries her because he’s probably not going to stay in town. Especially after that video thing. But also, Kenneth says he’s super sharp. It was a real feather in the council’s cap to get him to run that service. They won’t keep him long at the center.”
“Who’s Kenneth?”
“Kenneth Warner. The president of the Town Council. The man I’m going to replace in the upcoming election.”
I smiled. “So, you’re running.”
She returned my smile. “I talked to Dan. He’s agreed. Kenneth has been on the council for thirty-five years, can you believe that?”
Yes, I could believe that. I would have guessed more like fifty. I might have even guessed he incorporated the town personally and had been on the council since Misted Pines became Misted Pines.
“I heard you were going after Gary’s seat,” I noted.
She shook her head, but said, “Not at first. To do it right, you should start where you’re supposed to start and learn what you need.” A ballsy grin and, “I’ll go after Gary in the next election.”
It was me returning the grin this time, though mine was happy for her, not ballsy.
“First order of business,” she said as we moved to the counter to place our order, “term limits.”
I was a big term limit enthusiast, which went hand in hand with being a let’s-have-a-lot-fewer-old-white-guys-running-things enthusiast.
I had a feeling Megan and I didn’t share a party, but I also had a feeling I’d vote for her.
I’d told her the chemistry teacher story, and she’d agreed with me, that’s all I was saying.