Page 5 of Teach Me Your Ways

I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded. “Okay. Thank you. That would be… that would be amazing. I really need the position.”

Carver smiled sweetly. The kind of smile that said she was about to serve you a shit sandwich but with the crusts cut off. And I was going to be expected to like it. And ask for seconds.

“Now,” she said, leaning forward slightly, “Since I’ve been kind enough to do you a favor, I wonder if you might return the courtesy?”

Oh no. “A favor?” I asked warily. “Like?”

“Not a favor, exactly. Just your cooperation. You see, the professor you’ll be working with, Dr. Grady Stone, is, well, questionable.”

“Questionable?” I repeated. What the hell did that mean?

“He’s had,” she paused again like she was trying to find the right words. “Well, there have been some rumors.”

“Rumors?” I was beginning to sound like a parrot but none of this was making sense.

“That he’s perhaps gotten too friendly with his students. Nothing we can prove. No official complaints or anything. But enough to raise concerns. All I’m asking is that you keep your eyes open. If anything questionable comes up, I trust you’ll be honest with me.”

My stomach turned. “You want me to spy on him.”

“Of course not. Nothing so crude. Just be observant. Report any professional misconduct, even if it doesn’t involve students. I can’t create this position for you unless I know you’re willing to keep the department’s best interests at heart.”

Best interests my ass. This woman had an ax to grind, like this was personal for her. I wondered if the guy had dumped her or something. How in the hell had I managed to find myself in the middle of some fucked-up love disaster?

Telling her this felt a little inappropriate was on the tip of my tongue. But I had no real choice. I needed the TA money to cover tuition. And I needed the experience. And most importantly, I needed to not be living in my mom’s guest room when Sophie started first grade. Or graduated high school. I needed to get my own place. And that meant finishing school and getting out into the real world.

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m here to finish my education. I need to focus on studying. I’m not like a lot of these other students. I have—” I paused. Something told me I didn’t want to share anything about my life with the woman. “I’m very busy and I’ll need time to study. I know how high the standards are here at ZU.”

Carver waved her hand. “I’m not asking you to follow him around day and night. Just keep your ear to the ground. Tell me what you see and hear, if you think he’s crossed any lines anywhere.”

Was this the kind of thing people meant when they talked about walking on someone else’s back to get where they were going? Was I about to use some man’s downfall as my own staircase? Did it matter if he was breaking the rules?

My gut said it did. But my head told me I didn’t owe him anything. The only person I owed anything to was Sophie, and that was all the clarity I needed.

“Okay,” I said quietly. “I’ll do it.”

“Wonderful!” she said, all sunshine and daggers. “Your meeting with Dr. Stone is tomorrow afternoon. I’ll email you the details.”

“Great,” I said. “Thank you for the help.”

I stood, shook her hand, and smiled the way you smile when you just sold your soul to the devil but got a really good deal. If that was even possible.

The second I stepped out of Carver’s office, I exhaled so hard I nearly passed out. I had this uncanny knack for finding trouble. I didn’t understand it. I went out of my way to mind my business and yet trouble and drama always found me.

“Hey,” I said to Carver’s assistant, a perky grad student named Marcie who looked like she owned three ring lights and spent twelve hours doing her makeup every day. “Is there a bar around here? I need a drink.”

She raised an eyebrow. “It’s eleven a.m.”

“Exactly.”

She laughed. “There’s a place called The Library. It’s mostly older students. Well, legal students. Cheap drinks, strong pours. Open all day. Don’t let the name fool you.”

I nodded solemnly. “Bless you.”

I left the building and stepped out into the heat and humidity of a typical South Carolina summer day. It felt oppressive, like the weather was trying to push me down. I was so desperate to just finish this last little bit of school so I could move on with my life and of course there had to be another wrench tossed in my path.

My mom and Sophie were rocking out to some Taylor Swift song when I climbed back into the car. Mom looked at me and arched an eyebrow. I shook my head. “What could go wrong?” I said in falsetto. “It’ll be fine. Everything is handled.”

Mom laughed and put the car in gear. “Why do I think there is a story there?”

“There is.”

I leaned back. I wanted a cold drink in a loud bar where I could disappear for just an hour. But we had errands to run. Sophie was going to be starting school soon and there were supplies to buy and clothes to get. Money to spend. That gave me the fire to keep going.

Just call me Mrs. Smith. I was going undercover. I wondered if I could wear some of that sexy shit Angeline Jolie wore. I glanced down at my full boobs, small pooch around the middle and my hips. I had childbearing hips. Maybe not Angelina style, but I could totally get down with some thigh-high boots. I could stash a camera, knife and, of course, a lipstick.

Because what female spy didn’t keep her lips looking a glossy red?