Sweetie's Diamonds (20 page)

“Why the hell did you get into a fight?” was the first thing his father asked.

“I'm fine, dad.
 
Don't worry about it,” David replied.

Boston realized he had come on too strong and backed up.
 
“I'm sorry, son.
 
Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

His father pulled away from the school and headed toward his dealership.
 
“It figures they couldn't reach your mother.
 
We have to go back to the shop, son.
 
I was in the middle of something.
 
I'll get a message to your mother to come pick you up there.
 
Is that all right?”

“You can't drop me off at home?
 
It's not that far.”

“No, there isn't time.
 
Besides, I want to talk to you.”

David didn't understand why they couldn't talk and also go to the apartment but he didn't question his father's reasoning.
 
He waited a few moments before his dad said anything.
 

“How would you like to come live with me?” his dad asked.

David almost did a double take.
 
“What?”

“You know.
 
Come live in a nice big place with me instead of that dinky little apartment with your mother.”

“I don't know, dad.
 
I like living with mom all right.”

“You don't think she's too protective, do you?”

David didn't like where this conversation was headed.
 
“No.
 
Come on, dad.
 
I don't want to talk about this.”

“Listen, son, I think you should come live with me.”

“I don't want to, dad.
 
I mean, I love you and all that, but I think that would kill mom.”

His father sucked in his lips as if he were thinking of the right way to say what was next.
 
“Well, she just might have to learn to deal with it anyway.”

“Why?”

“I've filed for custody.
 
You know what that means?”

David was alarmed.
 
“Yes.”

“I think we have a good case.
 
Do you know why?”
 
Greg Boston looked at his son, probing the boy's face for a sign that he knew what was going on.

“Because of what was in the newspaper?” David offered.

His father turned back to the road.
 
“Yeah.
 
I can't believe that, son.
 
Can you believe your mother did that?
 
It's just incredible.
 
I can't tell you how much that hurts me.”

“Dad, it was a long time ago.
 
And I don't know if it's even true.
 
She says it isn't.”

“She would say that.”

“Well, save your money.
 
I don't want to move in with you,” David said.
 

“Son, sometimes things are not up to you.
 
I'm your father and I have your best interests on the table here.”

“You just want to punish mom,” David said softly.

“What?”

“Nothing.
 
I don't want to discuss this.”

“Fine, but I'm just giving you a heads up.
 
Your mom is going to find out today that I've filed.
 
So let's put a good face on it, all right?”

David was appalled.
 
Was this man beside him really his father?
 
How could he be so vindictive?
 
What was the matter with him?

“You know, David,” his father continued, “your mother shelters you way too much.
 
She keeps you from having fun.
 
You should be out more at your age.
 
Playing sports, getting interested in girls, doing more things outdoors…”

“I can't do that, dad, you know that.
 
My condition—”

“Condition conshmition,” Greg Boston said.
 
“It's all a lot of bunk.
 
Your mom just made up that stuff about your condition so she could keep you at home.
 
I don't want to see you be a mama's boy anymore.”

“What do you mean she made it up?” David asked.

“Your so-called heart condition.
 
I never believed it.
 
She made it all up.”

“But the doctor said—”

“That's her doctor and he'd do anything to keep the insurance payments coming in.
 
I'm telling you son, you're as normal as the next fellow.
 
You just need to exercise more and build up your strength.
 
When I get you out of her home and into mine, we're going to fix you right up.”

David didn't know what to think.
 
His father's words terrified him.
 
As the Jaguar pulled into the Boston Ford lot, David realized that he was gripping the seat as tightly as he could and that his heartbeat had increased once again.

A
t the same time that David was defending himself against Matt Shamrock, Diane Boston was preparing to face a sea of unfriendly faces at the school district board meeting.
 
All day long she had considered her options on what she should tell them.
 
How much of the truth should she relay?
 
How dangerous could it possibly be after all this time?
 
Was she being overly paranoid?

Near the end of the last period she came to the conclusion that it was indeed still unsafe.
 
She knew those people in Los Angeles.
 
She was well aware that they were ruthless and vindictive.
 
They also had long memories.
 

To be prudent, Diane made a call to Scotty Lewis, the lawyer who had represented her so splendidly in the divorce.
 
He was also a dear friend, one who chose to remain on her side when she and her husband split up.
 
He advised her to go to the board meeting and listen to what they had to say.
 
She was to answer their questions as truthfully as she could and then call him back later.

At precisely 4:00 Diane stepped into the faculty conference room located off of the teachers' lounge.
 
The board had already assembled—the four officers and seven members.
 
Principal Morgan was present but only as an observer since he wasn't a board member.
 
Diane nodded to everyone and then sat at the table next to Morgan.
 
A few of them said, “Good afternoon Mrs. Boston.”

A few seconds later Peter Davis came into the room.
 
Diane was surprised to see him and was bewildered as to why he would have any business being there.
 

“Sorry if I'm late,” he said, taking a seat across the table from Morgan and Diane.
 
He wouldn't look her in the eye.
 

Board president Judy Wilcox was a tough-minded conservative Republican in her fifties.
 
Her late husband had been a State Representative until his untimely heart attack four years earlier.
 
Judy Wilcox was well connected in the district and was also on the Lincoln Grove Village board of trustees along with Diane's ex, Greg.
 
Diane wasn't sure if Mrs. Wilcox's association with Greg would be in her favor or not.
 
Most likely the latter.
 

Mrs. Wilcox didn't stand, opting to address those present from her seat.
 
“Meeting is called to order.
 
We're here to discuss what we have learned about Mrs. Boston and give her a chance to explain herself.
 
After that we will deliberate and vote on appropriate action, if any.
 
Are there any questions before we begin?”

Diane spoke up.
 
“Is this a trial of some kind?”

Mrs. Wilcox answered, “Of course not, Mrs. Boston.
 
It's just that we're faced with a… well, a
delicate
situation that might cause some unwanted negative publicity for Lincoln High School.
 
We want to discuss what we should do about it.
 
Call it a hearing if you must.
 
That's all.”

“Is my job in danger?” Diane asked.

Mrs. Wilcox frowned.
 
“Why don't we move along and get to the heart of the matter.
 
I believe that question can wait until we're finished today.
 
All right?”

Diane nodded.
 
She wished that Scotty were with her for support but hopefully she wouldn't need him in the long run.
 
Perhaps everything would turn out all right.

Mrs. Wilcox addressed Peter Davis.
 
“Mr. Davis, why don't you begin since you were so adamant that we meet today to discuss this.”

Davis inadvertently met Diane's eyes at that point and he blushed.
 
Now she knew.
 
He
was
behind it all.
 
The bastard wanted her job.
 
The prick was still sore that she wouldn't date him and now he was having his revenge.
 
Whatever the motive, she hated the man more than she could fathom.

“Thank you, Mrs. Wilcox,” Davis began.
 
“As you all know, there were disturbing articles in the newspapers today involving Mrs. Boston.
 
The original story was reported by, I believe, the
National Enquirer
.
 
The local papers picked up the story from that.
 
Now I don't know about you all, but I'm terribly distressed by this revelation that Mrs. Boston used to work in the, uhm, pornography industry.
 
She is a role model for the students here at Lincoln High and I believe that this seriously undermines her position.
 
Frankly, now she's become a joke.
 
You should hear what the students are saying in the hallways and classrooms.
 
She's become a laughing-stock.
 
What kind of message does this send to the kids?
 
We can't have a scandal like this infecting our school and community.”

“And what is it that you propose, Mr. Davis?” Mrs. Wilcox asked.

“I'm afraid I have no choice but to recommend suspension,” he said.
 
He continued to avoid looking at her but Diane stared straight at him.
 
If her eyes had been equipped with laser beams he would certainly be made of ash by now.

“Thank you for your comments,” Mrs. Wilcox said.
 
“That will be all.”

Davis looked around the room.
 
That was it?
 
He didn't get to stay?

“Thank you, Mr. Davis,” she said again.

He got the message and stood.
 
“Thank you.”
 
He glanced at Diane and said quietly, “I'm sorry, Diane.”
 
Then he left the room.
 
Diane would have liked to tell him to fuck himself but she remained quiet.

“Principal Morgan?” Mrs. Wilcox spoke.
 
“Do you have anything to say?”

“Not at this time, Judy,” Morgan said.
 
“I think we all need to hear from Mrs. Boston on the matter before anything drastic is done.
 
Don't you agree?”

“Of course.
 
But I understand you've received some phone calls?”
 

Morgan squirmed in his seat.
 
“Yes.
 
The office received eight calls yesterday after the story appeared in the
National Enquirer
.”