VICE & VOICE

(previously published as Extra Duty Plays)

Chapter 1

 

 

He eyed the photos on the wall—and the woman in them—and inhaled.

On his first step inside the room, waves of deep, mocha-red streaks swirling across the wood top of a golden-brown desk that sat in front of the wall pulled him towards the display. The snake-like flow first teased a glance at the photos and the woman. Her presence dominated each framed shot. It then twisted away as if to discourage a closer look. But the stylish barrier seemed to have the opposite effect on the young man. Just visible enough in the muted light of two Tiffany-styled lamps, it enticed him to get closer. The soft glow whispered art gallery. But the blush bordered on boudoir. Which was it?

His light brown hair, cropped to a side-swept crewcut, and his tanned skin blended together in the soft light. The muscles in his jaw pulsated. He stepped up to the desk, leaned across the buff top, and closed the space between the wall, the woman, and him.

Was it the afterglow-like blush that engulfed the young man? Or the sexiness that oozed out of her and drizzled over him? As he lingered on the pictures, he ran his tongue over his lips. I suspected he tasted her hotness.

I should have said hello, but I hesitated when I saw him focus on the photos. It fascinated me. He zeroed in on the wall in the same way a self-proclaimed stable genius must lock in on every mirror he passes. Just a minute before, I was alone, and to correct a wardrobe malfunction—my loose, slipping bra strap—I inched to the corner of the room, out of view of the doorway. It left me out of his vision when he entered but not out of position to eavesdrop, or is it eyeavesdrop, on him. I was ninety-one percent sure no one had ever been that absorbed by any of my photos. Or even by me, live and in-person. When a man held a door open for a woman, it might be an act of chivalry, or maybe a way to get a closer look at her as she passed through. When a man held a door open for me, it likely was so if an intruder was in the room, I’d be the first to be attacked, and the man could escape without harm. I enabled chivalry’s foil.

I gave myself a few more minutes of invisibility.

What drew him to the photos? Was it the woman’s radiant black hair that fell behind her left shoulder? Was it the few strands that brushed the front of the other shoulder to lightly touch her shapely, rounded breasts and lead the looker’s eyes to her slim, seductive waist? Maybe the bare, slightly bent arm—toned, curvy, and just muscular enough?

Whatever it was, he didn’t resist.

“Perky Parks,” I heard him say. “You’re quite the sight—candy corn for a VP’s eyes.” He paused then added, “And a fluffernutter, too.”

I wasn’t quite sure what that meant. When he smirked, I guessed it was at the absurd thought that he was ogling photos.

Yet, he was.

The photos in the diamond-shaped arrangement that captivated him showed Dr. Rikki Parks, second-year principal of Bantamville South High School, at her various posts over the years. She posed with students in some and with adults in others. He stared at them for several seconds beyond mere curiosity. The same photos had caught my attention last year, though I’m certain for different reasons. Still, I empathized with his fixation. In some, she showed strength and control—firm jawline, edgy chin, eyes gazing off-center of the lens. His slight smile made me think he valued those traits. But more often, she projected an aura that dripped from her hair, skin, and breasts. His smile broadened, and his tongue licked his lips again, this time more slowly as though to savor the flavor. I guessed his sense of taste was stronger than sight. I also guessed boudoir.

“Hello, Rob.”

The voice shook him from his photogling.

“Dr. Parks. Hello. Good to see you again.” From the rawness that trickled from his voice, I suspected the real thing didn’t disappoint.

“That’s my collection of photos to remind me of where I’ve been. Like it?” Parks paused and smiled at him.

“Absolutely. I’ve been hard at work, uh, trying to identify the different schools you’ve served.”

“That’s not all of them. Just the ones I had great success at. Quite a few, though.” She paused and turned her tall, shapely frame to look at the photos. “Recognize this one?” She pointed.

“Absolutely. Crayton High. My first teaching position.” He beamed.

“And my most successful.” She smiled to herself, then straightened her crepe, puff-sleeve blouse. “What I did at Crayton was noticed by Bantamville. They hired me based on my success there.” She paused and looked at him to size up his reaction. “Let’s sit and talk.” She gestured to the chairs in front of her desk then snuck another look at the display.

“Sounds good. Thanks.”

“So, have you two met?” she asked as I slid into the second chair. “Kassi, this is our new vice-principal, Rob Portman.”

The young man recoiled when he saw me.

“No, we haven’t.” I smiled. Did he flinch at my appearance or the thought that I had seen him lured in by the photos? I held my hand out to him. “Hi. I’m Kassi Stanton.”

“Oh. Hello.” He pulled away and wrinkled his nose as though he had gotten a whiff of rotting fish. “Kassi. I’m Rob Portman. Nice to meet you. Have you been here long?”

“If twenty-five-plus years is long, then yes.”

“No, I meant—”

Decision made. “Oh. You meant here in the office.” I laughed. “I came in the side entrance.” I pointed to a second door that led directly to the hallway. No way was I going to admit to my new-vice principal that I watched him eyeing the photos of his new boss. The extra door offered the principal, or anyone else, a quick exit to the student-areas when needed, rather than having to walk down the hallway of the office suites to the main entrance and exit. The staff called it the grrr gate. After a meeting with Parks, teachers usually wanted to let out a long grrr. The side door offered a faster exit and safe space to let out that grrr. Today it also gave me a way to hide my eyeavesdropping. “It fools new people all the time,” I said.

“Cool. I thought you might have some superpowers or something. Like the invisible teacher.”

“No. Well, I’m not invisible, anyway.” I smiled. “Just a teacher.”

“Kassi,” Parks said. “I’m glad you got to meet Rob. And I do want to speak with you. But can you give me, maybe, fifteen minutes with him before we talk? Since he’s just starting, I want to give him a quick intro.”

“Of course, Rikki. I’ll get a soda, and I’ll be back in fifteen, maybe twenty minutes.”

“Great. And I do apologize.”

“Nice to meet you, Rob.” I reached out to shake his hand as I rose from my chair.

“Same here, Kassi. I look forward to working with you this year.”

“Take care,” I said and made use of the grrr gate.

With that, I ended my first meeting with Rob Portman, new vice-principal at BS High, the school where I teach and lead the English/Language Arts team. Little did I know that the meeting foreshadowed the flavor of what my first school year working with him would be.

Of all the literary elements I teach and have students use to analyze novels, plays, and short stories, foreshadowing is my favorite. It shows kids how authors add depth and complexity to their fiction. The irony is that readers usually miss the hint at first, and the aha moment comes much later in the reading. In the same way, if I had focused on my clandestineness and Portman’s fixation on the photos before we were introduced, I would have gotten the hint and been prepared to deal with the events that followed.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

 

When I left Parks’ office, I grabbed a quick soda and bag of chips, wolfed them down, and returned to the main office in about twelve minutes.

“Hi, Lilith. How are you? Summer okay?”

“Hi, Kassi. Summer? What’s summer?”

Lilith Chiarello, the main office lead secretary, and the other twelve-month employees, didn’t enjoy the perk of summers off. Though the schools were quieter, and they could get more work done at a human pace, they didn’t revere the season like teachers did. Go figure.

“Sorry.” I smiled. “I won’t ask that again.”

“Ha-ha. Funny, Kassi. But it’s been good. How about yours?”

“Very restful. I came back today to pick up some textbooks. I’m prepping a syllabus and lesson plans for a course. Anyway, is Dr. Parks free yet? Or is she still in with the new VP?”

“She’s still with him, but you can have a seat in her waiting area. Take a load off.”

“Thanks.”

The small waiting area offered more than air conditioning. Thin walls allowed anyone sitting outside Parks’ office on a quiet day to hear conversations going on inside. I sat to take a load off, as Lilith suggested, but the opposite happened.

First, my phone buzzed with a text from my husband, Zach.

Where r u?

School.

Why? It’s August.

To get books to prep for course. Then stopped in to see Parks. Met new vp.

Yawn.

Parks intro’d us then told me to leave.

Huh?

Well—asked me to. But shuffled me to door and out so she could talk with him.

Love affair over?

Hah! No love lost. But am offended.

Rude?

Used to it. Gotta go.

Zach wasn’t wrong about Parks being rude. It began at the end of last school year. She suspected I led the resistance to her style of leadership, especially when it came to her promotion of standardized tests and test prep and her heartless treatment of new teachers. For the record, I did not lead any resistance, though the rest of that is true. So, I guess I should take responsibility for it. As a result of her suspicions, Parks turned cold as ice towards me. She ghosted me by verbally ignoring daily pleasantries like good mornings and dropping me from written exchanges like memos and emails. One area where she found her voice, however, was in my final evaluation. She rated my overall performance at 2.5, or emerging, which put me just high enough to avoid a corrective action plan. I could have appealed but thought better of it. The score affected nothing but my ego, and I chose lying low to flying without a net.

Zach’s text reminded me of how weighted down I felt last June from being at odds with my boss. Then, as I sat in the waiting area, my unavoidable eavesdropping added to the load.

Parks’ conversation with Portman, though muffled, clued me in on more trouble. At first, it sounded benign. “So that’s the quick first look at how we work here. You’ll fit right in.” Silence. “There’s a soothing quietness in a school in early August, isn’t there?”

I guessed the business portion of the meeting was over.

“Indeed, there is.” The squeaking of a chair almost drowned out Portman’s voice. Almost.

“I’m glad you stopped in, Rob, and we had this chance to talk.”

“I was at the board meeting last night when they approved my appointment, so I wanted to come in today to get acclimated.”

“Fantastic.” She paused. “Welcome to the school. When the position opened, you were my first choice, and I’m thrilled that you were approved.”

“Thank you, Dr. Parks. I’m happy, too.”

“Great. I was impressed with your work at Crayton, and I’d like you to have the same success here.”

Another pause.

I was mistaken. Business wasn’t done.

“So, as I said, Rob, the board hired me to raise Bantamville South’s state ranking. I put new test-taking preparation strategies in place last year and made some other upgrades, shall we say. I intend to ramp that up this year. I brought you here to help especially with that.”

“Great. I’m anxious to hear what your plan is.”

“I’ll give you the quick version, and we’ll talk more in a few days. I have three specific areas to get your take on. They relate to the expertise you showed at Crayton. First, gathering and analyzing data, and second, motivating young people.”

I could hear a ring tone and visualized Parks checking her smartphone as she did so often during meetings.

“And the third?”

The tone changed.

“Loyalty.” Her voice flattened as she spoke it.

Portman hesitated. “I get the first two—data and young people. But I’m not clear on how loyalty fits in.”

A phone buzzed again, and in my mind’s eye, I could see Parks glancing at it before continuing. “Change is difficult for everyone. Here at Bantamville, I’ve run up against resistance from students, from parents, and especially concerning to me, from staff. I need to know that I can rely on you, and that you, as they say, have my back, especially in dealings with staff, or at least certain staff.”

“Absolutely. Can you tell me who the certain staff is?”

A phone vibrated again. “A few. You just met one. Kassi Stanton.”

I smiled. Like they say, bad PR is better than no PR.

“I’m going to assign her to one of my new projects to raise our test scores. She’s very good at motivating kids in academics, though she has some strong opinions about test-taking and test prep. That’s where we don’t see eye-to-eye. She’s a champion of de-emphasizing test-taking and test scores. Somewhat old school, you know. And that doesn’t cut it in today’s data-driven system.”

She knew me well.

“Not a fan of data analysis?”

“No. And she fought me on it last year. She has a lot of support from the staff. She’s very influential. They follow her. I don’t know why. To me, she doesn’t look the part of a leader. Her clothes, her hair, her eyeglasses, her plainness. She rarely wears make-up. And she loves to quote literature. Not new stuff. The classics. But the students and the staff like her. I don’t get it.”

“Dr. Parks. If I can help—well, you know I was on board in Crayton when you needed some—” He paused. “Shall I call it research?”

“Rob, I want to pair you up with Kassi on the project. It will be a win-win for you. You’ll learn from her. She’s very good with motivating kids in academics, and she knows the ropes of Bantamville bureaucracy. And maybe what you find out can provide me with something to put in the vault.” I visualized her pointing to her head to emphasize the idea.

“The vault. Oh, yes.”

“You remember the vault, don’t you? It worked well for me at Crayton, and I have you to thank for it.”

“I remember it. And it was my pleasure to be of service,” Portman said.

“You know me, Rob. I feel most secure when we’re all on the same page—mine. You’ll be my way of staying on top of what she’s up to. Yes, let’s call it research.”

What the hell was that all about? The vault? What did she have in it? I started to worry—more than I usually did.

“Got it. I look forward to working with her.”

“Your work was right on target at Crayton. Your ability to remember details paid off for us.”

“People tell me I have a photographic memory. I prefer to think that I have laser focus that allows me to remember so well.”

“Either way, it worked for us.” She was quiet for an extra few seconds. “We’ll talk details in a few days. For now, I want you to know that I value loyalty in my staff.”

Portman didn’t hesitate to respond. “You’ve got mine, Dr. Parks. And my undying support.”

“Thanks for coming by, Rob. We’ll talk details later.”

I sat frozen for a minute. My unintentional eavesdropping made me aware that the Parks-Stanton conflict ramped up with the appointment of this new administrator. Her offensive move put me on defense. I heard Portman’s footsteps coming towards the door to leave, and I wanted to run. But I couldn’t tear myself away from hearing his last words.

“May I say, Dr. Parks, that is a set to be proud of.”

He must have glanced at the photos and fixed on one of her features, maybe two. My mind kicked into gear. Perhaps on what some older, non-PC male teachers might refer to as her voluptuous tatas?

“And your appearance, so, so, so—”

I heard him inhale. Was he breathing in that oozing sexiness again?

“So in control and professional in every photo. I will keep that image of you in my head as a reminder of what I want.” He paused. “What I aspire to. Have a good day.”

I powerwalked through the secretarial area past Lilith without saying a word and ran out the main office door and down the hallway. But I hit the brakes and backed up when I turned the corner and saw the grrr gate out of Parks’ office open and Portman make his way out of the room. He learned the little tricks quickly.

After the earful I heard, I decided my meeting with Parks could wait. I was off the BS High clock, summer was not yet over, and the Wet Zone beckoned.