The Final Lesson Plan (25 page)

Cutting her off, "So do you think I should buy a baseball hat to match?" I asked, holding one up near my head, smiling from ear-to-ear.

"No, I think you should buy me a shot…maybe four of them," she said, slumping down on the bench next to the dressing rooms, breathing like she'd just run a race.

Laughing and hugging her, I said, "And the best friend of the century award goes to…Charlene Palmer."

Char rolled her eyes and shoved me off of her. "And what lesson did we learn here today, Janelle?" she asked. I shrugged my shoulders, not certain what she was getting at. "Oh for God's sake...there is no reason for two sexy, single women to be buying clothes in the Indians' store."

Truthfully, the whole incident had me spooked. I was beginning to see what Mr. Baker, my superintendent, had meant. I'd worked for so long to try to make a name for myself, a reputation in the district that meant something, only for it to be tarnished and destroyed within a month's time. Was this really how I wanted the general public to view me? Briggs Alexander was a hotshot superstar now, but that didn't change how the rest of the world was going to view me. Janelle Garrity was the harlot school teacher who seduced her impressionable young students. Nobody seemed to think or want to believe that this grown man, this 24-year-old man, was the one who seduced me. I was the villain; he was the innocent victim, as was Leo. Wow, that sucked ass.

"I can't believe you wouldn't let me drive," Briggs whined, leaning his seat back in my car.

"You can't drive. I've got big birthday plans for you. They won't pan out if I don't get you sloppy-ass drunk so I can take advantage of you," I said, glancing quickly at him.

Let's be honest; I'm a piss-poor driver, distracted at all times. Whenever I go anywhere with my friends or family, I very rarely get to drive. Briggs had already yelled, "Watch it," three times, and we'd only been driving for ten minutes. But I wanted this day to be all about him. I didn't want him to have to worry about anything. I was in the driver's seat, in every possible way.

"It's not being taken advantage of if I'm a more than willing participant," he argued. "Janelle, I am willing. Very willing."

"You don't think I already know that?" I asked, giggling at him.

"Not how I mean, you don't," he said, turning more to face me. "I talked to Char the other day."

"Y'all are pretty chummy," I said. "And what did my big mouthed bestie bitch say?" God only knew what Char and Briggs talked about when I wasn't monitoring and censoring their conversations.

"I don't think you realize how into this…into you…I am. You should've told me about those skanky chicks in the bathroom," he said, rubbing the back of my neck.

"Briggs, I didn't want to upset you, too," I admitted. "Plus, it was so embarrassing. I didn't want us to have to deal with all that shit on top of the huge pile of shit we're already dealing with."

"Janelle, the Marcus and Vince shit is going to go away, probably pretty soon," he explained. "But that shit, the shit from that bathroom, that's not going anywhere. I've been dealing with that kind of crap for ages. If you're into me…into us…then you're gonna need to get some thicker-ass skin." He trailed his hand down my arms and back up through my hair. "Babe, you need to tell jealous bitches like that to fuck off and that Briggs Alexander has all he's ever wanted…and will ever want."

"Jealous? You think they wanted you?" I asked, jokingly.

"Hell yeah, have you seen this?" he said, grinning, lifting his shirt as he ran his hand over his stomach. "They wanted what you have baby."

"Or…maybe…" I couldn't think of anything clever, so I just bit my lower lip.

"Ya got nothing, right?" he teased.

"I got nothing," I confessed. "You sir, are so right, so fucking right.

After the Indians' game, Briggs was all bummed out, because we'd lost. He was such a guy; you'd have thought that he played for them the way he acted all defeated and mopey. It didn't matter that we had Club Seats (thanks to Jasper), didn't matter that we had all-you-can-eat food and drinks throughout the entire game (Jasper again), didn't matter that I'd put a cute birthday message on the scoreboard, and it didn't matter that he'd caught a foul ball and was glorified all over the jumbo-tron. What mattered was that Briggs' night was ruined, because the Yankees beat the Indians, 10-4. This was new for me; Marcus was certainly not into sports. Jasper was, but I never had to hang out with pouty "My Team Lost" Jasper.

"Are you gonna pull yourself outta this funk?" I asked, as we walked down the street. "Have you not seen what I'm wearing?" He hadn't even commented when I went into the bathroom after the game and changed quickly into my skank-a-licious outfit. Briggs didn't even give me his "I wanna fuck the shit out of you look" that I was getting quite accustomed to.

"I'm not in a funk. I just can't believe we gave up six runs in the seventh inning. Who does that? They didn't have anyone better in the bullpen?" he asked for the millionth time.

"Seriously, if you use the word 'bullpen' one more time, I'm going to lock you in one," I threatened.

"Janelle, a bullpen isn't a real—"

I stopped dead in my tracks, crossing my arms over my chest, refusing to take another step. "Briggs Alexander, I'm gonna drive your whiny ass home and call your birthday a total loss if you don't get back into the game—this game—the game of Janelle seducing the mother-fuck out of you," I scolded.

"Okay, you win. You're right. I'm sorry. Keep seducing. Not another word from me," he said, raising his hands in surrender.

"Blow on this, Baby," Briggs said, staring into my eyes. I glanced around at the crowd around us; women just flocked to him. Many people even took pictures of him without his knowledge or consent. Maybe he did know, but he didn't let on like he did.

"If I had a quarter for every time someone begged me to blow—"

"Just do it," he said, laughing. I blew on the dice, and he threw them down the table. We were acting like we were old pros at Craps, betting big on the table, and losing the majority of our money. I was already down $80.00; Briggs was down $470.00. Gambling was certainly not our thing, but we were having a blast. Once he really snapped out of his funk, he was back to the fun-loving Briggs that I was falling for. You could always bank on a casino being a good time—even if you weren't bringing home the bank.

He hadn't noticed my outfit or that I'd really even changed until some random guy stared at me as I walked by. I tried to ignore him, but the guy said, "Dayum" while staring at my ass. Briggs turned on him, sizing him up. The guy gave him "a thumbs up" and kept walking. When Briggs turned back and looked at me, he almost looked shocked that I no longer had my Tribe gear on. "When'd you change? That's…that's…'dayum'…you're so fucking hot."

I winked at him and said, "I figured that since the Indians didn't get lucky and our gambling wasn't so lucky that I'd better take you home and make sure we both got lucky on 7-11."

"Now, you're thinking. Let's blow this last 30 bucks on slots, and get home to play a whole different kind of slots," he teased.

"Well look at you, feeding me some puns. You sure know how to make an English teacher hot," I said, kissing him.

On the drive home (Briggs drove), he kept hounding me to tell him what the rest of his surprises were. I wouldn't cave, knowing that he'd love what else I had up my sleeve. He could wait it out.

'Wanna know what I really want for my birthday?" he asked, glancing at me.

"Let me guess," I said, scooting closer to him. 'You've always dreamed of getting 77 South road head."

"Fuck no!" he said, shaking his head vigorously. "I had a buddy in college whose girl used to get off on sucking him while he drove. Liked when truckers could see and shit," he explained. "Well, one time, he got too into it, and hit the guardrail. Well, she bit down. Let's just say, he was out of commission for a bit. Ha…'nother pun."

"Seriously? Did she like bite it…off?" I asked, shocked.

"Nah, but he had some bad injuries. Stitches in some crazy places," he said, shivering at the thought.

"Noted. No road head for Briggs. Got it." I said.

"No, what I really want…what would make this the best birthday ever…would be to spend all night with you, sleeping with you in my arms," he admitted.

Looking at him, seeing the sincerity and hope in his crystal blue eyes, I knew I couldn't deny him this request. Honestly, I didn't even want to deny him. I wanted to sleep all night in his arms and wake up next to him.

"I love them," he said, trying on the sunglasses I'd bought for him. "I've been meaning to get another pair. Lost mine last summer. How do they look?"

"Perfect," I said, kissing the tip of his nose. "They'll do the trick."

"What trick? What's that mean? What're you trying to do?" he said eyeing me suspiciously.

"Uh, let's just say, you get a little uglier when you put them on," I said, laughing.

"Uglier? What?" he said, pretending to be offended.

"I'm trying to keep those eyes to myself. I figure chicks will back off if they can't see those beautiful baby blues," I explained, feeling territorially victorious.

Taking of the sunglasses, "You're using me for my eyes, aren't you?" he asked, making his eyes really wide and crazily creepy.

"You know it," I said. "Now for the fun gift." I went around to the other side of the couch and grabbed the jar, handing it to him. "This is a jar of 24 things, because you're 24 today, that I'd either like to do to you, have done to me, or think we should do together…and they're all deliciously dirty and sexy." He reached for one of the papers, but I stopped him. "Slow down. We want to save some, grab a few every day or so. It'll be fun. So let's see what fun things we're gonna do tonight."