He chuckled. “You’re covering those legs, Jo. I don’t give a fuck if you have to wear jeans for an interview because it’s just a fucking formality. You don’t have to dress to impress. You’re getting the job.”
“What?”
“I told you you don’t need an outfit for the stupid interview or that big pretty folder you’ve been preparing like it was your fucking PhD. I’ve taken care of everything. All you have to do is show up and sign. Now go change.”
“The first time I agree with Furore on something,” Ty said. “Did you know this is the outfit you wore the first day at school last year? The first time I saw you.”
I didn’t, and I didn’t remember. How could he? “It’s highly unlikely you remember what I wore a year ago.”
“But I do. Some things are hard to forget.” His eyes swiped over me again, his hunger for me might be subtle for others but bright for me. “Like how a couple of guys in class were commenting on your…figure in that skirt.”
“You look hot in that sexy librarian get-up,” Lolita suddenly chimed in, a big grin on her pink lips.
I just stared at her instead of telling her to butt out because I didn’t want to be a bitch to the club girls. They already hated me after what I did to that…woman. Lolita was probably trying to be friendly, and she must have thought she was giving me a compliment, but she was making things worse.
“Mr. Grant, too,” Ty added, and I heard the menace in his voice when he mentioned the name of the teacher he ruined just for planning on asking me out. “You should definitely listen to your…old manand change.” Of course, that was the only time he’d agree with his father. The only time he’d, even sarcastically, acknowledge the relationship Laius and I had.
Laius didn’t wait for me to move on my own. He linked arms with me and dragged me upstairs to change. And that was the story behind my first interview in jeans. It was what you got when you chose borderline psychos with anger management issues and obsessive jealousy for boyfriends.
The principal of Westfield High School—one of the most expensive schools in North Houston—had an odd, almost petrified, look on his face when Furore predicated us into the office.
The principal stood and gestured with a trembling hand at the seats across his desk. “Mister Lazzarini, welcome to Westfield High. Please, have a seat.”
Furore let me sit first, pointed to the farthest chair for Ty to sit, and then took a seat next to me. “Right. This is my boy Tirone. He’ll be joining you this year. He’s a senior.”
“I…didn’t enter last semester’s exams,” Ty corrected.
“In Frisco. It doesn’t count,” Furore said, casting a menacing glance at the principal. “Right, Carson?”
What?
Principal Carson baggy eyes popped, stunned for a second, before he cleared his throat and pretended to be examining the papers on his desk. “We can make an exception for such a brilliant student. He’s maintained an impressive GPA before that. I’m sure he can make up for lost time.” His smile shook at Ty. “We’ll be honored to have you in Westfield.”
My lashes fluttered. I hadn’t been teaching for long, but this was the first time I saw a principal afraid of a student…let alone one that hadn’t been admitted to their school yet. Tirone was bright, yes. No question about it. But his face was worse than ones in mug shots after the fight. Violent troublemaker was written all over him in black and blue, but Carson would just accept him in the most expensive school in the city with no questions asked? What did Furore do to this poor man? How could he make an esteemed educational managerhis bitch?
I knew Furore was powerful and dangerous. I met him in a prison. He almost beat a man to death. To see that side of him in action, though, was a whole different story.
Furore’s thumb jutted toward me. “And this is—”
“Jo Meneceo,” I introduced myself asIshould be doing at an interview. “Thank you so much for accepting to interview me for the English teacher position.” I handed him my resume. “I haven’t been informed when I can present a class demo. I don’t want to take more of your time. If you can guide me to the Head of Department’s office to make an appointment—”
“Baby, I told you there’s no need for all that hassle. It’s all covered. You already got the job,” Furore interrupted me and glared at the principal. “Right, Carson?”
The poor man swallowed, again pretending to read my resume like with Ty’s transcripts. “Absolutely. Miss Meneceo’s resume and records are—”
“Impressive, just like Ty’s GPA, and you’ll be honored to have me here.” I saved him the lies.
He nodded once. “Yes. I’ll take you to the HR manager. She’ll take care of your employment contracts and take you to meet the English department staff and your fellow teachers.”
I opened my mouth in exclamation, but Furore spoke first. “How much are you giving her?”
Seriously? The guy had just given me a job without even looking at my credentials, and Furore was asking about money?
Principal Carson’s cheeks reddened. “Seventy-five with full benefits.”
My eyes widened behind my sunglasses. “That’s…a lot. My last salary was forty-five. I’ll be happy with that.”
“The fuck you are. And seventy-five ain’t good enough. Ninety. She’ll take ninety, full benefits and dental.”
