draw the really pretty ones. But it was kind of fun to go over to his house and get all the flirtatious attention bestowed on him, being the new kid and not that bad looking.
“Come on over to my buddy Brendan’s Friday night,” Jordan invited. “We’re gonna get lucky.”
“Yeah?” Tommy grinned. “Who you gonna get lucky with?”
“I’ve got this girl who wants me so bad she can’t hold herself back. And she’s on the pill.”
“So you want me to come over and watch you get lucky? I might have to pass on that,” he said with a laugh.
“She’s bringing a girlfriend,” Jordan said.
“I might come by for a beer,” Tommy said. “Let me think about it. I don’t know this Brendan guy.”
“He’s cool,” Jordan said. “He graduated a couple of years ago, and when his mom goes out of town, which she does a lot, the house is his. And if we get lucky, we can get lucky all night long, if you get my drift.”
“Oh, I get your drift,” he said. And he was thinking, you idiots. You don’t go banging the local girls who advertise they’re on the pill. He wasn’t stupid—that’s how you got stuff. Bad stuff. An image of telling his dad he had the drip sent shivers up his spine.
But he went. He popped the top on two beers, total, without finishing either one; he knew better than to drink anything out of a keg or punch bowl. There was a little pot floating around, though not everyone indulged. Tommy didn’t get near that shit. Too risky for a kid planning on West Point; too risky for a boy with a father like Walt, who would dismember him before killing him.
The girlfriend who was earmarked for Tom if he was interested was way too aggressive and ready for anything, and he just couldn’t see it. Plus, Jordan and Brendan were busy getting everyone as shit-faced as possible, as quickly as possible, and there was nothing quite as funny to watch—but inevitably boring. He finally slipped away about nine without anyone really noticing he was gone.
The next Monday morning at school Jordan excitedly asked, “Where’d you go, man?”
He shrugged. “I had to get home. My dad is pretty strict.”
“Yeah, but we had beer and girls!”
“I had a couple of beers,” he said. “And the girls. Well, I didn’t meet one I really liked.”
That made Jordan laugh almost hysterically. “Well, so what? You’re not …? You don’t still have your cherry, do you, man?”
In fact, he did. “‘Course not,” he said, because what do you say to something like that? Tom hadn’t made it with a girl, but not because he couldn’t. Because he was very careful and he and the last girlfriend back in D.C. had barely graduated to some petting before he moved away. He was in a desperate hurry to find a great girl, but she’d have to be a great girl, not just someone who’d put out. In fact, a girl who put out was kind of a put-off. And if he found a great girl, he was going to be a great guy to her, not someone out for himself.
“Come over after school,” Jordan said. “Maybe we can hook you up.”
“Listen, Jord, I know you’re just trying to be a good friend and get me laid, but how about you worry about you and I’ll take care of myself. Huh?”
“Aw, man, you don’t know what you’re missing!”
But Tom had seen the girls, the beer and pot, and he thought—actually, I think I do know what I’m missing. He hadn’t met anyone through Jordan who interested him. So far. “You take care of you—I’ll take care of me.”
Still, Jordan was one of the few friends he’d made. And Jordan loved coming out to the ranch and hanging around the horses sometimes. The general didn’t like him, but didn’t have a really good reason. Tom found himself a little torn—grateful to have a friend at all, but hopeful that someone a little more substantive would show up before too long.
A young man came into the bar and claimed a stool right in front of Jack. He was clearly under thirty. Jack eyed the polo shirt, khaki pants and loafers—not the mountain attire most commonly seen around here. This guy was not hunting, fishing or splitting logs. He gave the counter a wipe and said, “What can I get you?”
“How about a beer?”
“That’s our specialty,” Jack said, serving him up a cold draft. “Passing through?”
“No, as a matter of fact. At least I hope that’s a no—I just started teaching at Valley High School. I thought I’d get to know some of the folks around here.” He took a pull on his beer. “You have any high schoolers?”
“Brace yourself,” Jack said, lifting his coffee cup. “I have a new baby. By the time he gets to high school, I’ll have a walker.”
The young man laughed. He put out a hand. “Zach Hadley.”
“Jack Sheridan. Welcome aboard. How do you like it so far?”
“A little out of my experience, to tell you the truth. I’m used to a bigger school, city kids. But I wanted to give a rural community a try.” He grinned. “The kids find me real interesting—they laugh at my clothes.”
Jack grinned. “Lotta ranchers, farmers, vintners and that sort of thing around here. That, and hunting and fishing.” He nodded at the young man. “Not a lot of golf.”
“Is that what I look like? A golfer?” He chuckled. “Figures.”
Mel came into the bar, the baby on her hip. She passed the baby right across the bar to Jack. Jack hefted the baby and said, “Mr. Hadley, meet David, your future student.” David laughed, put a finger in his mouth and farted, bringing a big laugh out of Jack.
“Yeah, he’s just warming up. He’s going to be one of the fun ones, I can tell.”
Jack reached underneath the bar for the backpack. He very deftly slipped David into it and then the straps over his shoulders. “Mel,” he said, while getting David comfortable. “Meet Zach Hadley, new high school teacher in town.”
They shook hands and Zach explained he was renting a small place outside Clear River and was just getting around, meeting neighbors and parents of his kids. “Well, you’re here at the right time,” Mel said. “The locals will start turning out for a beer or cup of coffee.”
“Excellent,” he said. “Do you run this place with your husband?”
“No. I’m a nurse practitioner and midwife. I work across the street with Doc Mullins in his clinic.”
“Is that a fact?” he asked, intrigued.
“It’s a fact no one around here gives birth in daylight,” Jack said, serving his wife a short beer.
“My very able helper,” Mel said. “When I have a delivery at Doc’s, Jack usually sits up through the night in case I need him for anything.”
Mike came into the bar, took his place beside Mel. Jack introduced him as a former LAPD police officer who’d served with him in the Marine
