ONE SMALL VICTORY Page 7

  The man eyed her carefully. “Lookin’ for something?”

  “About a nickel’s worth.”

  “What you talking about?”

  The question caught her off guard. This wasn’t going the way they’d rehearsed. She quickly sifted through a variety of responses, knowing only one thing; she couldn’t say the word drugs.

  She decided on bravado, despite the fact that she didn’t feel very brave. “Listen. The longer we stand out here jawing the more we both risk.”

  The Hispanic man in the passenger seat leaned out his window and scrutinized her for a moment. “Buzz off lady.”

  Then he motioned to the driver who started the engine. The black man jumped in the back seat, and Jenny smelled their exhaust before her mind accepted the fact that she’d failed.

  Great. Now what am I supposed to do?

  The one thing she knew she couldn’t do was stand out here and be conspicuous. She pulled her jacket closed against the chill wind and headed back to her car. Maybe it wouldn’t feel so much like a complete fiasco after a hot bath and a call to Steve.

  Alicia was already asleep when Jenny got home, so she slipped quietly went into the girl’s room to kiss her goodnight and remind herself again why she was doing this. Then she went back out to the living room where Scott was watching TV. He’d barely acknowledged that she’d come home early and still kept his attention on the program.

  “Everything okay, Scott?”

  “Sure.”

  “Did you finish your homework?”

  “Didn’t have any.”

  Jenny fought the urge to question the veracity of that, but things were so rocky between them, maybe she should show some trust. One of his major beefs was always that she didn’t trust him.

  “I’m going to take a shower. Then we could do something if you want.”

  “No thanks. I’m on my way to bed as soon as this is over.”

  His indifference created a pain deep inside and she longed for one those rare moments of closeness that had become even rarer of late. But you can’t force it. You know that.

  Letting out her frustration in a deep sigh, she turned and headed for her bedroom. After a quick shower, she wrapped a towel around her head, slipped into her fluffy robe and called Steve on his cell phone.

  “Problem?” he asked.

  “You could say that.” Jenny sat on the edge of her bed.

  “Wait. I’ll go to a landline phone and call you right back.”

  A few minutes later, her phone rang. She picked up on the first ring, hoping that Scott hadn’t picked up in the kitchen.

  “What happened,” Steve asked without any preliminary small talk.

  “The dealers drove off.”

  “Don’t worry. We told you it was going to take a while for them to accept you.”

  There was a pause and a rustle of movement, and Jenny wondered where he was and what he was doing. Then she had this sudden awareness of being naked beneath her robe, sitting on her bed, and talking to this man who was starting to make her feel things she hadn’t in years.

  She stood up.

  “Was there something else?” he asked.

  “Uh, no. I just wanted you to know.”

  “Listen, just keep going back until they let you make a buy. Trust me. They won’t put you off for long.”

  Jenny felt marginally better after they hung up. She dried her hair, put on some sweats and a t-shirt and crawled into bed, even though she wasn’t particularly sleepy. A new Laura Castoro novel was on her nightstand and she picked it up.

  After reading a few pages, Jenny realized that she kept losing track of the story, which wasn’t fair to the author. She rested the book on her stomach and thought about what she was doing. Who was she to think she could pull this off? She was no super hero. She was a middle-aged mother whose biggest challenge up to this point was surviving her bad choice in men.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Jenny just barely remembered the parent/teacher conference in time. She had fifteen minutes to get there and could forget about a shower first. If only she’d remembered earlier, it would have been the perfect excuse to put off a major cleanup of the flower cooler.

  She washed the big chunks of grime off, then locked the doors and headed for her car. She wouldn’t have to contact the kids. Scott would remember she had the conference. It was for him, and they’d argued last week about her need to go. She was sure she should, he wasn’t. He said the failing notice from his biology teacher was taken care of. He’d pulled his grade up. Everything was fine. But Jenny knew it wasn’t fine. And she should have questioned him that first time he said he didn’t have homework.

  But then, wasn’t everything a lot clearer with hindsight? Long before the current mess of her life, Jenny had learned that it was better not to beat herself up for past mistakes. Not a damn thing she could do about them in the present.

  She pulled into the school parking lot, locked her car, and headed for the redbrick building. She was supposed to meet the teacher in the lab.

  For being such a small community, Little Oak High School had a state-of-the-art biology lab, much better than the one in the metropolitan school Jenny had attended in Dallas. Walking in, she noticed the strong aroma common to all labs, formaldehyde. She also took note of the three people sitting at a table near Mr. Taylor’s desk. So it wasn’t just a conference with him. She recognized the other teachers. Both had taught Michael, and she’d had conferences with them in the past.

  “Ms. Jasik, thank you for coming.” Taylor stood in that ungainly stance often used by very tall men and motioned her to an empty chair. “You know Brenda Ames with the English Department and Sylvia Comstat our History teacher. And please call me Gordon.”

  Jenny nodded to the pert, young blonde and the older woman who had an incredible cascade of auburn curls. Then she perched on the edge of the seat and willed herself not to brush at her rumpled clothes. They looked better at the end of their day than she ever did even at the beginning of hers. They must think I’m a moron coming in looking like a slob.

  Obviously, they didn’t, as they all gave her bright smiles and didn’t glance once at the bleached out spot on her jeans.

  After greetings were exchanged, Gordon sat back down. “I asked them here today because we’ve all been concerned about Scott’s lack of attention to schoolwork.”

  His pause was met with more eager smiles from the other teachers and a sense of impending dread from Jenny. She didn’t know if this was an opening for her to offer a comment, but what could she say?

  Brenda Ames cleared her throat. “It’s not that he’s doing horribly. And we’re certainly cognizant of his recent loss.”

  Another pause, and again Jenny couldn’t find an appropriate response. She nodded and Brenda continued. “We noticed that he seemed to be rebounding from his grief up until a few weeks ago. Then everything seemed to bottom out. Has something else happened at home that we should be mindful of?”

  Jenny had to fight to stifle a laugh, and perhaps Gordon mistook that effort for a sign of distress. “Are you okay?” he asked. “Can I get you anything?”

  “I’m fine. Just a little fall allergy problem.”

  “If you’re not feeling well, we can reschedule,” the history teacher said.

  “No problem.” Jenny turned to Gordon. “Scott said he’s worked to bring his biology grade up.”

  “Yes. Yes, he has made some effort.” Gordon leaned back in his chair, tipping it on two legs the way Jenny had always yelled the boys not to do. But perhaps it would be best not to reprimand the man who held Scott’s scientific future in his hands.

  “Well, I’m not sure what to say. Of course, I’ll talk to Scott. But I really don’t know why he’s fallen so far behind. He’s home most nights studying—” Jenny stopped abruptly when she realized she really had no way of verifying that. She’d been out most nights the past week trying to do a drug deal. Did she dare share that little tidbit of information with this august ga
thering?

  Another urge to laugh nearly overcame her and again she turned it into a cough. She glanced over at the biology teacher. “Perhaps I could take a glass of water.”

  Gordon rose, unfolding his long body in small increments and went out into the hall. Brenda leaned forward with an earnest expression and touched Jenny’s leg. “You know we were ever so sorry about Michael.”

  Jenny nodded, staying rigid lest the surge of grief rise too far. Luckily, Gordon reappeared with a paper cup of water before she had to respond.

  “Has Scott talked to you about how things are going with the school counselor?” Sylvia asked.

  “No.” Jenny took another sip of water. “I know he’s seen her a few times. But he’s very private about those things.”

  “Well, we’d certainly like to do all that we can to help,” Gordon said. “But there is only so much the school can offer. Perhaps it would help for him to see the counselor more frequently.”

  “I’ll talk to him about that.” With a sudden clarity, Jenny realized that the cause of the problem lay solidly at her feet. She’d been out almost every night the past week. But what was she to do? She could hardly quit when they’d barely just begun.

  She set the cup on the table and stood up. “We’ll also work out something to make sure he does his homework.”

  “We appreciate that, Ms. Jasik.” Gordon rose and towered over her. “We’ll keep you advised of his progress.”

  ~*~

  After pulling into her driveway and turning off the ignition, Jenny sat and listened to the soft metallic ticks as the engine cooled. All the way home she’d wrestled with the problems with Scott. If this whole silly quest was responsible, should she just abandon it?

  She hated to even consider that. Could she live with herself if she gave up something this important? But can you live with losing another son in the process?

  Jenny got out of the car and slammed the door. Damn that voice of reason.

  Stepping in the back door, she could see Scott in the kitchen by the microwave. He turned when he heard the door close. “Didn’t expect you so early.” He pulled the burrito out, then turned again and stood perfectly still. “You forgot the conference.”

  There was a note of anger and accusation in the last statement that rankled. “No. I did not forget the conference.” She hung her jacket on a peg in the narrow entry and walked into the kitchen. “It was just very short and to the point.”

  “And the verdict was?”

  His attitude chased any thought of being reasonable from Jenny’s mind. “That you’d better knuckle down and do your homework.”

  “And who’s going to tend to Alicia? You’re never home to do that.”

  Her hand stung even before Jenny realized she’d slapped him. He stared at her, shock widening his eyes, and she reached out to try to touch the red spot on his cheek. “Oh, Scott, I’m so sorry.”

  He pulled back as if she was going to hit him again. “Sorry, don’t cut it.”

  His words tore at her as he stormed out of the kitchen, almost colliding with Alicia, who turned frightened eyes to her. “Mommy. What’s wrong?”

  Jenny reached for her daughter and held her close, murmuring softly into her hair. “Nothing, Sweetie. Nothing’s wrong.”

  “Then why were you and Scott yelling?”

  “I don’t know. I think we’re both just tired. Let things get out of control.”

  “I know. I bet it’s his hormones.”

  Shocked, Jenny pushed away to look her daughter in the eye. “What do you know about hormones? And where did you learn it?”

  “Mom. You signed the paper for sex education, remember?”

  “Oh. Right.”

  Was not remembering just another sign that her whole life was deteriorating while she was out chasing scumbags?

  “What are you learning in sex education?”

  “That the hormones control everything. And when they’re very busy, we might act strange.”

  “Oh, baby.” Jenny wrapped her arms around her daughter, amusement clashing with this horrible feeling of having royally screwed up with Scott. It’s not like she’d never lost it before with one of the kids. They’d all become accustomed to a rare bout of unreasonable anger, but things were different now. They were all so much more fragile since Michael’s death. And she’d give anything to be able to take that slap back.

  ~*~

  Jenny spent the next evening at home, trying to repair some of the damage with Scott, but he was not receptive. After dinner he went to his room on the pretext of having homework to do. How could she argue with that? So she cleaned the kitchen, played a game with Alicia, and did two loads of laundry. Then she fell into bed exhausted.

  The following night she hit the streets again wearing her skimpy outfit that made her feel like a slut. But at least it was warmer tonight, so she wasn’t freezing her ass off. The little black car was in the far corner of the Dairy Queen parking lot, and business was brisk enough they could have been running a blue-light special.

  Tonight’s the night. Jenny had decided that when she left home. She’d already been out here three nights a week for the past two weeks, and she had to make some kind of move to set things in motion or this would take months.

  She couldn’t risk months.

  Trying to maintain a casual air of confidence, she crossed the scarred asphalt and sidled up to the car, nodding briefly to the black man who leaned against a rear fender. It could have been an instant replay of every other night as she flashed her money and the Hispanic man looked her over. He didn’t say anything, and she was afraid if she didn’t do or say something to convince him otherwise, he’d take off again.

  “You know, I’ve been eating your exhaust for two weeks now.” She tried a nonchalant smile. “Getting’ awful tired of it.”

  Dark eyes continued to study her without blinking. She put one hand on her hip. “So maybe I should just take my business back to Dallas. Although I’ve always liked the motto 'Shop At Home'.”

  Jenny heard a quick intake of breath and glanced at the thin black kid who was leaning against the rear fender. His expression seemed to be wary, and he fiddled with a dreadlock that had come lose from a bandana that bundled the rest of his hair like a bunch of curly sausages.

  She turned back to the Hispanic man. He took so long to respond, she wondered if she’d blown it. Sweat pooled in the middle of her back and the muscles in her face strained to hold the smile.

  After what seemed like hours, he finally nodded at the kid. “Give her the stuff.”

  The kid came instantly alert. “You sure, Boss?”

  “Hell. She ain’t no narc.”

  “How you know that?”

  “Look at her. She couldn’t bench-press a twig.”

  Pride made Jenny want to argue her case, but expediency won out. If this is what it would take for them to accept her, she’d keep her mouth shut.

  The kid palmed her money, dug into the fold of the oversized parka, and passed a bag over. Jenny shuddered when her hands touched it, barely resisting an urge to look over her shoulder to see who was watching. It didn’t take much to transform her back to childhood fears of her mother’s eagle eyes.

  There was a moment of awkwardness as Jenny tried to figure out what to do next. Did one say “thank you” when completing a drug deal? That wasn’t something that Steve or Burroughs had covered, and the kid just stood there with a closed expression. He probably wasn’t going to say, “Have a nice day.”

  Jenny dropped the bag in her pocket and turned away. It was an incredibly vulnerable feeling to have her back to them, but no shout stopped her, so she assumed her actions had been appropriate. Walking back toward the building, she put a little sashay into her step, forcing herself not to hurry.

  It was only when she’d regained the shadows that she released the breath that had been threatening to burst her lungs for the past three minutes. Is it always going to be this hard?

  As her breathin
g returned to something close to normal, Jenny wasn’t sure if she wanted it to get easier or not. Her impulse now was to race home, strip off these nasty clothes, and stand in a shower for at least three hours.

  She resisted that impulse. She’d worked too hard to get to this point to throw it all away. Feigning a nonchalance she didn’t feel, she leaned against the building and pulled the makings of a cigarette out of her purse. She’d practiced this one day last week, flashing back to an early adolescent indiscretion as she locked herself in her bedroom with plenty of Lysol spray on hand. The practice served her well now. She rolled the cigarette with a few efficient moves. After lighting it, she cupped it and toked on it the way Burroughs had demonstrated.