Chapter 1

Jack Gardner gazed down on the sprawl of the new Black Mountain High School. A twelve-building complex stretched before him down the landscaped hillside. He was the proud father of this creation. For twelve years he had cajoled, negotiated, and threatened the school board to build this school. It was his. Without his effort and vision it would not exist, and without his firm hand in charge, it would not function. He was certain of this.

The citizens of Black Mountain, Mississippi were torn over their attitudes toward Jack and his creation. Three failed tries to pass the bonding measure, and then Jack's two-year court battle to overturn the elections and fund it through a court ordered tax on the citizens of the town had made enemies, many of them. The tax-paying citizens of the town hated him for building "the fanciest high school in Christendom." Twelve separate buildings, each devoted to an area of knowledge, each fully equipped to provide a level of education Mississippi had never seen.

Not bad for an ex-jock, he mused. His knees had given out under the weight of Division I tackles before he had earned his bachelor's degree. With one year remaining until graduation the coach's wife, who had grown quite fond of Jack, had explained, very harshly, to her husband that Jack deserved a full-ride his senior year. She told Jack later it had been a tough sell, but when she showed her husband the pictures, Jack had given her, of him getting a hummer from a cheerleader with her fourteen-year old sister holding his balls, he simply caved. He wasn't going to trade Division I for scratching for a new job at a Division III school for a single scholarship. Jack remembered the weekend in an Ocean Springs hotel he had spent paying the helpful wife back with his ten-inch cock. This had taught him a long lasting lesson-gets the goods on an opponent and he was yours. He had allowed this lesson to guide his life for the past thirty-five years. It had brought him to where he now stood-on the bodies of past enemies looking at his creation.

From his fourth floor office, with the gleaming steel windows framing his view of the three thousand students streaming into his buildings, he arrogantly dared anyone to take it from him. The largest high school in the state also had the biggest budget-a budget, which he considered his personal playground.

He tried to preserve the vision of his achievement and feelings permanently in his memory. Without his watchful eye and his ruthless efforts, he knew the wolves would descend on his creation to devour it.

His office door quietly opened, and his personal assistant slipped into the room locking the door behind her. He knew she had entered, but he made no movement to indicate he had. Allison DeMarco, knew she had not slipped in unnoticed. Jack Gardner noticed everything. He had noticed during her initial job interview that she had not worn panties. He made sure she knew he knew. His powerful aura had paralyzed her as he had taken her over his desk, and hired her as she tried to reassemble her ripped dress. Now in her mid-forties, the honey-blonde beauty had been with him for twenty years. She slipped her arm through his as she looked down on their school. He knew it was hers as much his. She assisted in many ways over the years from supporting his plans and plots to relieving his sexual tensions at needed times. "It's so beautiful," she said in a butter-melting southern accent. He squeezed her arm, but said nothing.

"You have a meeting with Mrs. Avery in ten minutes."

"I know, she's pissed that her son is failing shop. This will be good."

Allison rubbed her cheek against his coat sleeve. "I'll buzz you when she's here." He nodded while checking his sleeve for makeup stains. Knowing that he was in a mood she could not ease at this moment, she squeezed his arm and returned back to her desk just outside his oak door.

Jack's mind plummeted from his achievement to his next appointment. This woman had a hoodlum for a son. Shit, failing woodshop is prima facie evidence that the boy was a loser. This kid was a stain on the school's standardized test scores. He chuckled to himself, No Child Left Behind, shit, this kid was not only was going to be left behind, but the steam roller of Black Mountain High was going to flatten him.

A bleached-blonde woman stepped up to Allison's desk. Allison stared at her black roots, and slid her eyes down the excessive makeup to a liberally exposed considerable fake bosom, over the bare midriff with its pierced belly button to the skin-tight jeans, to the high-heeled sandals. Allison twitched her nose and smelled slut. Allison stared at her without moving. The woman squirmed before her desk, as if she needed to pee. "I have an 8:30 appointment with the principal."

"Your name please?" Allison knew who the slut was, but she was going to make her jump through the hoops anyway.

"Allissa Avery. My son is Sean Avery. He's a senior."

Not for long, Allison, observed to herself. "Yes, please have seat. The principal will be with you shortly."

Allison returned to her computer and watched Mrs. Avery in the reflection of her screen. She had intentionally positioned her computer to watch the principal's visitors in the screen's reflection. Allissa Avery was wearing a man's chambray shirt over her tube top. A small effort at formal dress, the assistant imagined. The shirt was unbuttoned and draped over her enormous breasts accenting her cleavage. She reflexively reached for a pack of cigarettes in her shirt pocket, but stopped as she remembered about the smoking ban on the school grounds.

The door to the hallway flew open and a sixty-year old man in sweat pants, tee shirt and whistle barged through the door. Allison stood up to greet Vince Lombardo, the Black Mountain High football coach-four-straight state titles, ten straight conference titles. The town knew Vince could walk on water even though they had never actually seen him do it. Vince, like, Jack Gardner, was used to getting what he wanted. He just made a lot fewer enemies that Gardner along the way.

"I need to see Jack, now." Allison immediately buzzed the intercom. "Coach is here to see you." No one in a hundred-mile radius had any doubt who "Coach" was. There was only one. Lombardo never waited for a reply as he exploded into the Gardner's office.

"The fucker did it again." The door slammed behind him as his outburst rang in the other room. Coach paced like a hydrophobic hyena before Jack's desk.

"What now?" Jack knew the coach was talking about Jason McKinley, his star running back.

"I've got another pregnant cheerleader. Portia Handy has been spreading her legs for our star half-back for the past month or so without benefit of contraception."

"Shit, the chief of police's daughter! How are we going to cover this one up?" Jack knew that if the little asshole hadn't turned in seventeen hundred yards and 21 touchdowns last season he would have had it chopped off by some insanely angry grandfather-to-be long ago. Last year he had seeded three cheerleaders, two girls in the drama club, and one on the debate team. Shit, I wish I could fill him up with cottonseed and turn him loose on the fields.

"How the fuck would I know? That fucking little asshole, I'm going to run him through so many wind sprints he won't have the strength to fuck anymore little fluff." He had used up all his ideas on McKinley's past offspring. The kid was going to have to pay more child support then the school spent on fuel oil. The principal walked over to the window and stared out. "Coach, there's a city election coming up. The chief is running for reelection."

"Yes, one of his deputies is running against him. It might even be close this time." The coach laughed. "I bet Josh is really pissed that he hired that deputy a couple of years ago. I bet he'll never hire a Texan again. His son is at Harvard and folks in town are a bit pissed at all the speeding tickets he's handing out to help pay for the tuition."

"I think the chief needs a very well publicized arrest, a major drug bust. He needs something to show the community that he is on the ball in keeping our new high school safe from drugs and dealers."

The coach grinned broadly. "I think that would make him real happy. Happy enough, even, to not mind becoming a proud grandfather."

The coach stopped pacing and sat down on the black leather couch. He had known Jack a long time and was sure he was going to love what came next.

Jack swiftly crossed the room and touched a button on his desk. A section of wall behind his desk opened to reveal a safe. A swift spinning of the black dial and a pull on the chrome handle opened it. Jack reached and pulled out a surgical glove. He quickly snapped it onto his right hand and reached into the back of the safe. From the back he pulled out a large plastic bag stuffed with chopped up green leaves. He tossed it on his desk and sat down at his computer and using his left hand typed swiftly and waited for the response. The coach was beaming at all this activity. He can already see his fifth state trophy at the end of the season. This is why Jack Gardner was the fucking boss.

Jack grabbed a Post It and scribbled on it; his writing not his usual fine hand, but his gloved right hand was still held in the air to avoid contact with anything in the office. He opened his closet and pulled out a black gym bag. He stuffed the plastic bag into it and reaching into his safe he pulled out another rubber glove and dropped it into the bag. He sat down on the couch next to the coach and handed him the note. The coach looked at it carefully: Sean Avery, locker 1248, Industrial Arts Building, 23-12-35. The coach knew the drill. He dropped the note in the bag and zipped it up. "When?"

"Twelve-thirty. I'll have the chief and a drug dog here about 12:45. The little prick will still be in class then. By one he'll be in the county lock up, and then his daughter can tell the chief who the real father of the baby is."

"Fucking-A, Jack. You're a wonder. I owe you." The coach dashed out as quickly as he had come in, only much happier. Jack watched the coach run off to his task. I am still amazed after all these years how easy it is to talk someone into committing a felony.

Allison noted the coach's rapid departure along with the broad smile on his face. That was quick, she thought, it usually takes more than a few minutes to make Coach Lombardo that happy. She also noted that the Coach left with a bag he didn't have when he came in.

Allissa Avery was still making involuntary motions to her cigarette pack. She looked half-asleep; she had been up late and this morning she was powered by cigarettes and coffee. She didn't know her alarm clock had an AM setting before today.

Jack waited a respectable time and buzzed Allison. "Send in Mrs. Avery." Jack seated himself behind his eight-foot wide oak desk. His side of the desk was built-up three inches to give his six foot four height even more altitude above the people who came to petition or complain.

He rose when she entered. She walked by his wall of awards and photographs. She stopped at looked at the autographed picture of him with Bill Clinton: "To Jack, A great friend."

He stepped up behind her admiring the round ass in the skin-tight jeans. "He gave me that when he was governor. I've got another at home we took in the Lincoln Bedroom with Hillary in the picture. I wish I could show it to her, but we were all naked.

Jack walked around the desk and led her to one of the leather visitor's chairs. "Please Mrs. Avery, have a seat."

Almost shyly she replied, "Ms. Avery, Mr. Gardener."

He swept his hand to the wall of honors, "It's Dr. Gardner, Ms. Avery." He always led off with a pinch of intimidation during a parental meeting.

She blushed, an infrequent emotion for Allissa. "I'm sorry, Doctor."

"Quite alright, how can I help you?" He sat down behind his desk. The computer screen embedded into the desk already showed the miserable academic life of Sean Avery. How the fuck, do you fail shop? He thought.

"My son, Sean, is failing his classes, and I don't know what to do?" Jack was having a lot of trouble watching her face while she spoke. She gestured as she spoke and her half-exposed tits swayed with her hand motions. One side of her shirt had pulled back and he could see a nipple the size of a dime pressing into the tube top.