Mystery and Crime Fiction posted November 26, 2024 Chapters:  ...20 21 -22- 23... 


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Miranda wants to tell the world.
A chapter in the book Miranda Chronicles: Teacher's Pet

Burning Pockets

by GWHARGIS



Background
Miranda Jessup Buckley is back and in trouble in again.
So far, Miranda has been raising her ex-lover, Dougie's, son. When Dougie disappeared without a trace, Miranda filed for temporary custody. Now Dougie is back and she's afraid he's going to take the boy away.

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You know when you hear good news or something good happens to you, the first thing you want to do is share it. Share it with your friends, family, enemies, hell, anyone who will stand still long enough to listen. That's how it is with me. I want to scream it from the top of my lungs but I know Momma is right. People get wind of a financial windfall and they all stick out their hands. I call Mitch and tell him to come by the store on his way home. I call Waylon and shoot the breeze, ask him what he wants for Christmas.

"If you could have anything, money not being an issue, what would you ask Santa for?"

"I don't know. A nice pair of shoes. Maybe Nike or Adidas."

"Really? That's what you'd ask for?" I can't help but feel a little disappointed. Where is the mention of a car or a trip to Vegas? "Think, Waylon, You could have anything."

He lets out a bored sigh. "Maybe a small john boat so I could go out on the water some."

"Interesting," I mutter. "Okay, write a letter to Santa Claus and maybe you'll get one."

He is silent for a couple of seconds then he laughs. "Have you been hitting Aaron's bong, Miranda?"

"No! I was just wondering. Aren't you gonna ask me?"

"Sure. What would you want if Santa could bring it?"

"I would pay off this trailer and put some money aside for you to go to college."

"Well, write your letter," he teases. "Oh, I forgot to tell you. Tomlin was out today. Someone vandalized his car. Wrote the F word all over it. Orange spray paint."

"F word? There are a few, which one? And if he was absent, how do you know about it?"

"Fag. And some kids on the bus said their bus goes right by his house and there he was in his bathrobe, talking to some cops. Said he looked pissed off." I can hear a little glee in his voice but I'm not gonna call him out on that. Tomlin has taken great pleasure in tormenting Waylon. As my grandma used to say, "You reap what you sow."

"Well, that's not a very nice word, so don't go around repeating it."

"You asked me which F word. I only said it because you asked. I know not to use that word. I'm not an idiot."

I smile, then think about how his father had used it. Maybe the apple does fall far from the tree.

"Hey, Aaron just pulled in, so, I'll talk to you later, okay?" he says, excitement returning to his voice. "Remember, write that letter," he teases.

As I'm hanging up the phone, in walks Mitch. "Hello, Beautiful, how was your day?"

I walk around the counter and wrap my arms around his neck. "It's been eventful. I had some visitors this morning."

He slips his arms around me and brushes my hair back from my face. His fingers get tangled in it. "What the hell is in your hair?"

"Dr. Pepper, but that's neither here nor there. The Toblerones came by. They wanted to thank me for finding their son." I pull away from Mitch to dig in my back pocket. I unfold the deposit slip and hand it over.

"This isn't real. Is this a joke? Two hundred and fifty grand?" He stares at it wide eyed, like he's waiting for the punch line. "Miranda, this is awesome. No more Little Eagle, no more working nights."

"Whoa, Mitch. I'm not gonna quit my job because I got some money."

"Well, now you can find something else. Shoot, it wouldn't even have to be full time."

I step back. "Mitch, I like this job. I can't work for other people. Matt gave me a chance when most people were slamming doors in my face. Shit, I'm kind of the face of the Little Eagle. Why would I quit doing what I love?"

He sighs and reaches out to pull me back again. "I'm sorry. I just figured you hated working here. All I ever hear you do is bitch and complain about the customers. If you like it, stay here."

"Everyone bitches about their jobs. It's cheaper than therapy." I stand on my tiptoes and kiss him. "Funny, even kissing is better when you're rich."

"Hmm. Can't wait to find out what else changes," he whispers. "But, I've got to go. Molly is in a play at the school. I'll call you later. Love you."

I watch him walk out to his car and hug myself. Money, a kid I'm crazy about, and a perfect boyfriend, what else could make this day better? Well, it's not my last customer of the day.

I hear the thumping bass of the over sized speakers about a block before the truck pulls into the lot. I grimace as he gets out of his truck and saunters to the front doors.

"Did you hear what happened to that teacher?" Dougie says loudly. "Sounds like somebody called him out."

"Did you do that, Dougie?"

He grins. "No, not me, but I might have mentioned it to a couple of guys who aren't exactly fans of the queens and fairies."

"That wasn't exactly a cool thing to do." I step back to the counter and start straightening it up, trying not to give him any reason to stick around.

"So, you want to go grab a beer?"

"No."

"You quit drinking, Randa?"

"No. Just don't want to grab a beer with you."

He comes over to the counter and leans over it. "I had to leave, babe. You were holding on too tight. I'm not the kind of guy who can be on lock down. I never meant to hurt you. You believe me, don't you?"

I feel the tingling of sharp words and unkind phrases bubbling on my tongue. "Which time was I holding you to tightly, the times I made your truck payment, or when the rent was due? Was it the time you came back and saw that your son was doing better without you being in his life? I'm just curious, Dougie."

He eases back off the counter and smiles coolly. "Say the word, Randa, and I'll disappear again. But this time it'll be your fault Waylon won't see me."

He turns around and heads for the door. Scumbag, I think. He's putting all of this on my shoulders. "That's right, Dougie, don't ever take any responsibility for your actions. Typical Dougie Wilcox. Good to know nothing has changed."

I watch him climb into his big ugly truck, and decide maybe that's what I should ask Santa for. Take Dougie back to the North Pole where he will freeze his over sized ego off.






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