Page 11 of Banging the Drummer

“I bet. I went to college in San Marcos, but other than that, I’ve lived here my entire life,” I say.

“You teach social studies, right?” Emily asks.

“Yes.” I know where she’s going with this. She’s heard the stories. Knows I’m the teacher who found him—the boy who overdosed on Fentanyl. “Jacob was a sixth grader and he’d only been in my class for a few months before it happened. We still don’t know how he got into the school after hours. Or if the overdose was intentional.”

Frankly, it haunted me. It’s never easy losing a kid. I’ve lost a few over the years. Car accident, cancer and then the Fentanyl. That shit sticks with you.

She reaches over and squeezes my arm. “I can’t imagine. The school I taught at in Houston was in a rough part of town and had problems with gangs recruiting new members at the middle school. It’s one of the reasons I moved here. It was a mess. We lost a few that way, but none had been my students,” she explains.

Then she shakes her head and offers me a smile. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up old pain.”

“It’s okay. I probably should talk about it more. But I’ve never been a chat it out kind of girl. More of a turn the music up and sing at the top of my lungs kind of girl.”

“What’s your listening poison?”

I narrow my eyes at her. “Promise you won’t make fun?”

She makes a cross over her heart, then puts a finger to her lips.

“Soul Obsession,” I say.

“The boy band? Yeah, I remember them.”

“Not a fan?”

“Not, not a fan. I just grew up listening to my dad’s music and he was always into Classic Rock.”

“Hard to go wrong with music like that,” I agree. My phone pings on the table next to me. I glance over and can’t help but smile.

“Whoa,” Emily says. “Who is that look for?”

I read Mason’s message.

Maybe_Mason: I can’t wait to see you.

I ‘heart’ his message, then look back at Emily. “Okay, I’m going to tell you a secret and you tell me how bat-shit crazy I am for doing this.”

Emily shoves her salad aside and takes a swig from her water bottle. “This sounds like it’s gonna be good.”

So I explain to her about how Mason and I ‘met’ and how things have progressed.

“But you still have doubts that its him?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know. I mean we’ve talked on the phone and it sounds like him. But I suppose most posh British accents sound the same.”

“He invited you to the concert,” Emily says.

“Which is open to the public if they buy a ticket.”

“Yes, but he said he’d send a car to pick you up so you don’t have to worry about parking at the arena. Girl, he’s clearly into you.”

My stomach flip-flops at her words. Because that is what it feels like to me too, but I’m also a realist. “Or this is an epic catfishing scam.”

We both laugh and she makes me promise to text her and let her know how the night goes.

“What about you? Any dating prospects since moving here?” I ask.

“No and I’m not harboring any delusions of finding any. I’m a thirty-something single woman who moved to a tiny Texas town. I mean how many eligible bachelors that aren’t in their eighties do y’all have around here?”