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20 years ago it had been a great place and Jennifer had enjoyed her time there. All her teachers were bright and enthusiastic and the headmaster ruled the school with firm but fair discipline. Corporal punishment was still in use in those days and should you run foul of the rules, then you were certain to become acquainted with Mr Carter’s Strap or Cane. Jennifer had managed to avoid being punished, not through good behaviour, but by not getting caught. Her best friend Katherine had not been so. One second the lights were on and the next second they were off. Like pitch black.It's like your at the door. You rang the doorbell a bunch of times. The door unlocks and you can hear the chain being pulled back. You know they are opening the door because you can see it start to open but just as you think you can peek inside through the crack your back in your car, looking at a closed door and your hoping they are home.It's like jumping off a cliff and right when the free fall should start you. Reminding her to be always careful. And we did snort sometimes, me and Cheryl and sometimes Joanne joins us.”“You’re not hard.”“The mind is willing but the flesh is weak.”“Honestly?”“What do you mean?”“You don’t think I’m a cow?”“I told you you’re beautiful. You practically glow. What’s going on?”She sniffled.Then they heard sounds from upstairs.“Shit,” Shawna muttered. “Eddie’s awake.”“The guy was dead to the world!”“I thought so too!”“Let’s get dressed.”Suddenly sober, Joe dressed fast. So. Mr. Wethersfield had offered a car and driver to collect me, but I insisted on making my own way into Boston even though I barely have the T fare, let alone next month's share of the rent, which I'd rather not think about right now.Stubborn. Proud. And broke. Yep. Me, in a nutshell.Out of breath, I struggle to compose myself in front of the smoked-glass facade of my destination: The Brahmin Rand, an upscale bar popular with the financial district crowd. Perhaps Mr. Wethersfield works nearby,.
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