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“Oh, really?” I repeat, with a slight smile.
That’s his cover? That I haven’t met my professional development requirements?
He would do anything to get me out of teaching here, which makes me wonder why he gave me the job in the first place. I’m smart enough to realize that I’m very young to be a professor and that my father would have played some hand in my being offered the job. So why is he suddenly so invested in taking it away from me?
I sigh, knowing it’s useless fighting him on this. He wouldn’t be suggesting it if it weren’t written somewhere that it was a requirement—however loosely it’s been enforced until now.
“Fine. I’ll do the course. Was there anything else?”
He smiles. “Not right now.”“He’s just so frustrating,” I grumble.
“Tell me again why you thought it would be a good idea to work at the same college as your father?” Marc laughs. “Come on, man. You should’ve seen this coming a mile off.”
I know he’s right, which just makes the whole situation even worse. After my chat with my father, I needed to unwind, so I called in to see my friend, Marc. I’d been meaning to catch up with him for months, and I knew he’d most likely be home, following his injury. Marc and I have been friends since primary school. He was the kid who was always trying to stir up trouble and not much changed when he got older. The difference is, when you’re a pro basketball player earning bucket loads of cash, you can get away with it.
It had been a tough year for Marc. He’d been in the NBA, up until he did his knee in at the end of last season. The injury had been enough to keep him sidelined for all of the season so far, which left him wondering whether to keep pushing, or retire.
“Here,” Marc says, handing me another beer.
I take it and crack it open, then take a mouthful.
“Now, back to the bachelor party. You kissed a student? Was she stripping there, or something?” he asks. “And do you have photos.”
I shake my head and laugh. “No and no.” I pause. “If I did have photo’s, you wouldn’t be seeing them.” I smile as I think back on what turned out to be a pretty crazy night. “I’m fairly confident she doesn’t remember what happened at all.”
“What makes you think that?”
“The way she was acting today after class? What she was saying just didn’t match up with what happened.” I chuckle and shake my head. “It was a crazy night. Kind of like one of those nights where things progressively get worse, like a comedy of errors.”
“And did you two…?”
“You know I don’t kiss and tell.” I grin. “But the important thing is that she thinks we did.”
Marc grins widely. “Well then, that’s the perfect excuse for you to mess with her head, isn’t it?”
What do you mean?” I ask.
He shrugs and sits back down, opening his beer.
“You know, plant some ideas in her head, make her think something happened that didn’t.” He shrugs, a glint in his eye. “See where it takes you.”
“Thanks for the advice, but anything happening with her is out of the question.” I shake my head. “Fooling around with her would be handing my father a reason to fire me.”
“Which wouldn’t be a bad thing, considering how overqualified—”
“You’re giving me career advice?” I ask pointedly.
Marc chuckles. “Fair enough. Not another word will be said.”
“Sorry, that was a low hit,” I mutter.
“Hey, it’s fine. I know your father is a sore spot to you.” He hesitates. “I also wonder how much of your insisting on staying in there is just because you know it pisses him off.”
“There might be an element or two of that,” I murmur.
My phone rings. I glance down and see Jake’s name.
“Jake. I should get going anyway,” I say to Marc.
“Sure. Say hi to Jake for me.”
I get up, pat him on the shoulder and then let myself out, answering Jake’s call on the way.
“Hey, Liam. Sorry to call you so late, but I’ve got a bit of a crisis.”
“What’s going on?” I ask, swallowing a laugh.
Everything with Jake is a crisis. I’ve been dealing with these phone calls for weeks, and the issues have ranged from Brooke freaking out and blaming Jake because the chair sashes were the wrong shade of purple, to Jake freaking out because he can’t get his vows right.
“It’s bad,” he mutters. “Like really bad.”
“Just calm down and tell me what’s going on,” I say.
“It’s Grammy. She’s refusing to get on a plane and fly over for the wedding, but you know how important she is to me. I’m not sure I can do this if she’s not there.”
“Don’t worry about it. She’ll be there. I’ll drive to Vegas myself and get her, if I have to.”
