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“The weirdest.” George beams. “I can’t wait. But you’ll be okay, right? I heard about Gabriel. Is he going to—”
“He’ll be fine,” I say with more certainty than I feel. “The Emerald Beach police department is no match for the fury of Mackenzie Malloy.”
Antony works us so hard during gym that by the time I collapse on the mats for warm-down, I can no longer lift my arms. I’m not the only one groaning in agony, but I am the only one who knows I’m to blame for our punishment. Still, seeing Eli’s ass bounce around in those tiny shorts is worth any pain Antony dishes out.
Noah stays behind to talk to some of his track teammates, and George races through her shower to get to the art lab. I take my time under the warm water, using all the fancy products I raided from Ainsley Malloy’s bathroom cabinets and listening to Cleo and her snakes gossiping about Gabriel. She’s so busy holding court that she doesn’t notice me drop laxative powder into her gross green shake. Antony said no more pranks, but he’s not the queen of this school – I am.
Job done, I head through the Humanities block toward the cafeteria. The halls are deserted – the Humanities block is the oldest wing of the school. As Ms. Drysdale pointed out, “This patriarchal establishment wasn’t built with a heating system because they believed frostbite would turn boys into men.” Now, the school admits both sexes, and we all get to enjoy freezing our tits off. I hug my bare arms and hurry along the corridor when I hear a sob coming from Ms. Drysdale’s office.
I stop in my tracks, listening hard. I hear a male voice say something, and she interrupts. “You shouldn’t be here. What if they ask questions? What if someone recognizes you?”
I flatten my body against the hall. The male voice laughs – it’s a friendly laugh, full of bonhomie. I can tell from the pinch in her voice that Ms. Drysdale doesn’t consider this guy her friend.
“You don’t need to be so tense, Penelope,” the male voice says, smooth as silk. “I’m here on a personal errand. My future stepson attends this school, and I wanted to make sure your Principal Foster was taking good care of the boy. I’m looking out for his future; that’s the kind of guy I am.”
“Yes,” she says, her voice flat.
“Imagine my surprise when your name came up in our conversation. Apparently, you’re one of his favorite teachers. I’m not surprised – a pretty, intelligent woman like yourself is just his type. If I were a schoolboy, I think you’d be my favorite, too. I think I’d have all kinds of naughty fantasies about you.” He pauses, letting that lewd comment sink in. Ms. Drysdale doesn’t slam his face into her filing cabinet or lecture him on the patriarchy, which tells me this isn’t an ordinary parent/teacher interview.
He laughs again. “So I thought to myself, while I was visiting this fine educational establishment I’ll drop in to see my good girl Penelope, and make sure she’s keeping well. Are you keeping well? How rude of me not to ask.”
“Please,” she begs. “I’ll get the money. I promise. I just need more time—”
The man tsks. “I don’t think that’s fair, now is it? When you needed my help, I jumped straight into action. I sorted your problem the very same day, did I not?”
She makes a choking noise in her throat. My heart pounds against my chest. I glance along the corridor. There’s no one around. The door to Ms. Drysdale’s office is firmly shut, but I’m standing in front of a corner where supply cupboards have been built up against an older stone wall. There’s a cold draft blowing through the gap between the two, carrying Ms. Drysdale’s conversation with it. I flatten my back against the stone and press my ear closer.
“If I fulfilled my end of our bargain, it’s only fair that you provide what you owe in a timely fashion. You know what will happen if you’re late again. But I’m not without a conscience. I’ve been watching you closely. I know your situation.” He tsks again. “That weasel of an ex of yours has left you in a bit of a mess, hasn’t he? I abhor men like that. They should treat their women like the queens they are and protect them from the world’s problems, instead of causing them. Don’t you worry, Penelope. Don’t fret. I’m a creative man. I’m here because I think we can come up with a solution to help you pay this debt.”
I hold my breath. The air drops out of the building. I know this conversation. I understand perfectly what Mr. Smooth in there isn’t saying. I’ve heard a hundred times of it a hundred different times, whenever I hid in my father’s office and listened to him argue with his brother. This is exactly what Daddy was trying to keep out of the family business, and what Brutus wanted to invite in.
Someone is trying to make my favorite teacher join the skin market.
When Ms. Drysdale speaks, it’s with a power I’ve never heard her wield before. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”
“An intelligent woman like you? I think you follow me perfectly. You know the business I’m in. I deal in all types of pleasure – your ex got you into this mess by indulging his pleasure, perhaps you need to embrace your own to get out of it? I have a clientele with exclusive tastes who’ll eat you right up, especially if you pull the buttoned-up teacher act on them. Mmmm, yes. You’d be a premium product, commanding a high price. It would only take a few clients to square us up, no trouble on my end. You might even enjoy yourself.”
Invisible bugs crawl over my skin. The box of my memories clatters as the darkness inside pushes to escape. I feel flashes of it flay my skin – the hand pinning me down, the saccharine tang of alcohol and blood, the words rasped against my ear.
Let me show you a man, baby girl.
“Thank you for the kind offer, but I don’t think I’ll need to take you up on it.” Mrs. Drysdale uses the clipped tone she saves for students who don’t hand in their assignments. “I’ll have your money for you by Christmas, as we agreed.”
“Very well.” A chair scrapes back. “Tis a pity. You’d make much more working for me than you do wrangling these brats. If you change your mind—”
“I won’t.”
I duck into the janitor’s closet just as Ms. Drysdale’s door swings open and a man steps out. My heart pounds as I wait for him to yell at me, but he whistles a jaunty tune as he moves along the hall.
He hasn’t seen me.
But I’ve left the closet door open a crack, and I can see him. He wears an expensive pinstripe suit that pulls at his broad shoulders, and his handsome face is serene, jovial. He looks like a man who loves every minute of his job, especially the minutes he gets to spend shaking down innocent high school teachers.
Through the crack in the door, I watch him stroll down the corridor. My blood boils as my gaze sweeps his face. I’ve never met this man in person, but I know him. He’s been in my father’s office many times, and he was a fixture at every Triumvirate event I attended in disguise. I’m surprised at myself that I didn’t recognize his voice, but it’s been so long since my father’s world invaded my own that I’d almost started to believe it was all a dream.
No dreams here, only nightmares.
My teacher is being blackmailed by Nero Lucian.
