Page 1 of Caged Heat

PART I

Orginally part of Wickedly Scandalous Anthology. Nothing has been changed in this part.

CHAPTER ONE

ELEANOR

The wind blew softly against my face, lifting my short dark hair from behind my ear where I’d tucked it. A piece stuck in my lipstick, and I pulled it free, pushing it back behind my ear. I knocked my cap in the process, cursing the stupid thing as I righted it. Shifting in my chair, the aluminum creaked as I crossed my leg in the opposite direction. Sweat beaded along my back, the black material of my gown drawing the sun’s heat and baking me as I sat there, waiting my turn.

Sighing, I lifted my watch to check the time, noticing we’d already been here for an hour. It was no wonder no one wanted to attend these things. They were hot, boring, and seemed to serve only a select population—those with honors, awards, and who liked to hear themselves speak.

If I was honest with myself, I assumed this moment would feel different… better, perhaps. Countless nights of staying awake until the wee hours of the morning, living off coffee and microwave dinners, just so I could walk across a stage with sweat in areas no one wanted. It wasn’t really how I’d pictured it. Not that I’d thought about this a lot. I hadn’t exactly had spare time for daydreams between the dirty diapers, three jobs, and tuition bills.

Now all these strangers sat around watching me, making judgments on my life while they waited for their loved ones to be called. It was unnerving to be placed under a microscope, something I thought I’d outgrown years ago. Hell, most of the other graduates were younger than my son. I’d never felt more out of place than I did sitting here in the blazing sun, waiting for someone to call my name.

The young girl beside me cleared her throat to grab my attention, pointing me to follow the other students from our row who’d already cleared it. I stood, my heels sinking into the grass in the process, and I cursed the university for the millionth time for holding graduation out on the football field.

Heading to the stage, I observed the Dean of Students of Northridge University standing at the podium reading off the names. Sweat beaded on his brow, and his cheeks were more ruddy than expected as he concentrated in the heat. His beady eyes glanced up, and he pushed up his wire glasses before calling out my name.

“Eleanor Rigsby.”

The usual sniggers at my name sounded out—thank you mom and dad for that lifelong gift of having to explain the resemblance. Faint applause filled the space from onlookers and spectators. They gave me a polite courtesy clap before returning to staring at their phones or consulting their programs, counting down the names until it was the one they were waiting for.

I marched up the steps, the black gown swishing around me as I made my way onto the stage. I’d been working toward this moment for several years, studying after my double shifts to cram as much knowledge as I could into my head. Now that it was here, I didn’t know how to process it.

“Congratulations,” the dean of students said with all the lackluster of a snail. He placed his sweaty palm into mine, handing me a rolled-up piece of paper in the other, pausing as we smiled at the camera.

I guess I’d assumed I’d feel happier when I finally made it to this point, the culmination of years of hard work coming to fruition. Or, at the least, like I’d finally achieved something. But staring out into the crowd of hundreds with only two people here for me, I felt more alone than I ever had before.

“Keep the line moving.”

Startled, I jerked forward and continued across the stage and down the stairs on the other side. The tassel tickled my face as I moved through the graduates and retook my seat. The girl in front of me smiled and hugged me as I sat.

“Can you believe we did it?” she gushed.

I patted her shoulder awkwardly, not sure what to do in this situation. I didn’t hug people. Especially ones I’d never spoken to before.

“Uh-huh. It’s great.” I gave her a pained smile, my lips straight as I tried to pry her arms off me.

“And I just have to say, you’re an inspiration. To go back to school at your age. Like wow.”

She blinked her long dark fake lashes at me, all smiles as she waited for me to respond. I couldn’t figure out if she was being sincere or if this was one of those mean things girls said to one another that sounded nice but really was a dig.

“Thanks,” I said, turning and pretending to listen to the speaker at the front.

Thankfully, it only took them fifteen more minutes to get through the rest of the names. The crowd cheered louder, probably excited the torture was over and ready to go eat somewhere. The graduating class stood, turning their tassels as the dean instructed.

“Congratulations, class of 2023! You’ve made it!”

Everyone around me whooped and hollered, tossing their flimsy black caps into the air. I ducked, worried I’d get pelted with one and show up to my new job on Monday with a black eye.

As soon as everyone was dismissed, I bolted from our row, half tempted to remove my heels and take my chances barefoot. Thankfully, the track wasn’t too far away, and I made it to solid ground before my shoes became one with the field.

“Mom!”

Like any mother, I’d become attuned to hearing that word and knowing when it was my child and not someone else’s. Stopping, I spun around and searched the crowd for Mack.

With his tall frame, I spotted him as he waved at me from a distance. His dark blond hair was the same as his father’s, and it jutted out in several directions, the curls unable to be contained. Those he’d gotten from me, but where I spent time each morning straightening mine into submission, Mack tended to let his get unruly before he hacked them off. It was such a shame. He had beautiful hair, but the boy was too focused on other things and uninterested in hair maintenance to do it any other way.

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