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“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” I grumble.
Trent sighs and puts his hand on my shoulder. “It won’t be that bad.”
I shake him off me. “Don’t talk to me, traitor.”
“Me?” he asks in disbelief. “What about her?”
Blaire stands there with an arrogant look on her face, which only pisses me off more, but I can’t be bothered with her right now. Instead, I narrow my eyes on Trent.
“I pay her to be all involved in my business and make me do things I don’t necessarily want to do. You involved yourself, and did it behind my back.”
“Oh, come on!” He throws his hands up. “I told you. She called me.”
I shake my head and turn to Blaire. “How did you get his number, anyway?”
“Phone records, Babycakes. Apparently, you never changed the password after you and Nicole split.”
My stomach drops at the mention of my ex’s name. “You went to Nikki?”
She doesn’t look up from her phone as she shrugs like it’s no big deal. “You disappeared without saying a word. It left me with no other choice.”
Even the concept of her knowing any of my business is enough to make me see red. It was two years ago when we split, and it wasn’t exactly on the best of terms. How could it be after I walked into the house I bought for us, only to find her fucking some other guy in our bed? She screamed, he tried to jump out the window, and I put my fist through the wall. Eight years and two hundred grand on a spring wedding down the drain, but at least I found out when I did. It saved me from a pricey divorce, I’m sure.
“All right, we need to get in there,” Blaire says. “Mr. Hyland is expecting you.”
I murmur a few obscenities under my breath but shove my hands in my pockets and follow dutifully into the school. It’s prestigious, that’s for sure, with a giant crest on the floor of the main foyer. The lockers are gold and the walls a deep burgundy. It’s all flawless, making me wonder how much time they spend making sure everything looks top of the line.
Trent leads us through the lobby and into the main office, where an older man stands waiting. His gray hair contrasts with his black suit, giving away the fact that he’s closer to retirement than not. As he lifts his head and spots me, a grin spreads that’s too big for his face. Great, a grown fan-boy.
“Mr. Hawthorne. It’s so nice to meet you,” he greets me, extending his hand. “I’m Jon Hyland, but you can just call me Jon.”
“Thanks for having me,” I lie.
If he can tell that I’d rather be literally anywhere else, he doesn’t say anything about it. “The pleasure is all mine.”
I lean against one of the desks and wait for Trent to finish introducing Blaire to Jon. When they’re finally finished, I get straight to the point. It’s not like I’m trying to be disrespectful, but the last thing I want to do is sit around this place all day and exchange fake pleasantries. I can only force a smile on my face for so long.
“So, what exactly does this coaching gig entail? I show up a couple times after school and to the games on Friday night?” Please tell me that’s all it is.
The wary glance he shares with Trent tells me that couldn’t be further from the truth. “Not exactly. While we’re thrilled that you’re willing to coach our team and surely lead them to a long-awaited championship, the policy states that all coaches must be members of the faculty.”
“Aw, damn.” I feign disappointment. “I guess that rules me out then.”
“Well, let’s not jump the gun. We do have an opening for an English teacher that I’m prepared to offer you, which would make it so you meet all the necessary coaching requirements.”
My brows raise, and I instantly shake my head to try to wake myself from this real-life nightmare. “No offense, Jon, but I don’t know fuck-all about being a teacher.”
He crosses his arms over his chest. “Maybe not, but from what I gather, you and Trent are quite close, and he’s one of the best teachers we have. I’m sure he could show you the ropes.”
“I’m not qualified,” I begin, but of course, he has an answer to everything.
“You have a degree from when you attended Notre Dame, correct?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then you’re qualified.”
My jaw locks and my teeth grind together harshly. It’s all I can do to keep from shouting out what I really think about this whole ordeal. Judging by the way both Trent and Blaire refuse to look at me, it’s obvious I’m the only one who wasn’t previously informed of this minor detail. Just knowing they ambushed me into this makes me want to tell both of them to fuck themselves.
