by Liwen Y. Ho
“He’s tall, dark-haired, and has a great smile. Ooh, and dimples, too.”
“You don’t say?” Abby remarked in surprise. “He actually sounds kinda hot. So, what class does this hot professor teach?”
“Intro to Women’s Studies.”
Both Abby and Marcus piped up at the same time.
“Excuse me?”
“No. Freaking. Way.”
“Yes way!” Jackie replied matter-of-factly. “It’s one of the most popular classes. I was on the waiting list all last year. I was so happy when I finally got in.”
“Good for you. Thanks so much for enlightening us on this mystery of Professor Spark.” Abby’s cell phone buzzed again. While Marcus thanked Jackie for calling in and started the next song, she opened her phone to several new texts.
I asked you not to talk about me anymore.
Please respect my wishes or I will be forced to take other measures.
Really? Did this guy think he could threaten her into obedience? He didn’t know who he was dealing with.
One final message popped up: For the record, I’m thirty-two, not forty. But thanks for calling me hot.
Abby snorted. So, the professor was hot and funny. And knowledgeable about women? Where did she sign up for his class?
“What’s so funny?” Marcus peeked over her shoulder. “Other measures? Do you think he’s going to call the police?”
She shot him one of her oh really? glares. “Please. What would the police do with his complaint? What we’re doing is nowhere near being a menace to society. Quite the opposite. We’re entertaining people. Something this professor obviously knows nothing about.”
“Didn’t the caller did say his class was popular? He must know how to draw a crowd.”
“It’s only because he’s a young guy, and a good-looking one at that. Who knows if he really knows how to teach. He sounds like one of those artists who relies on their looks instead of their voice to sell records.”
“Well, whatever it is, it’s working. I almost want to sign up for his class.”
Abby sneered as Marcus chuckled at his own joke. “Yeah, well, I would too if that meant getting a look at him. Hold on, isn’t there another one of his students on the line? Let’s ask her to take a picture of him and send it to us.”
“Are you serious?”
“Of course. We need proof this guy’s as hot as he says.”
“He didn’t call himself hot; you did.”
“Argh, I did, didn’t I?”
“Yep, you did.” He leaned back in his seat and gave her a pointed look. “I think we’ve done enough digging. Let the man teach in peace.”
“But this is a good story, Marcus. The listeners are loving it. We can’t stop now.” Especially if it meant she’d be on the losing end of this battle. She took a deep breath. Okay, maybe she was taking this whole thing a bit far, but she really didn’t like being told what to do. If only that niggling feeling in her heart would leave her alone. Ever since she became a Christian, her conscience had been working overtime. The whole “love your neighbor as yourself” passage kept coming to mind. But this was for her job. She wouldn’t do anything to prevent her neighbor from doing his. “I’m going to talk to the caller after this song’s over.”
Marcus shook his head in resignation. “It’s your prerogative.”
Yes, it was. Abby pushed her glasses up and squared her shoulders like she was about to face an opponent in a boxing ring. Scratch the boxing; a staring contest was more her style. Regardless, she was ready to fight.
Chapter Five
Aiden
Aiden took his place at the podium and switched on his mic. A sea of young, smiling faces stared back at him. His gaze swept the lecture hall, noting how it was completely filled. What the—? Even if all his students were to show up, there should still be extra seats left. He rubbed his chin, wondering if the recent turn of events had something to do with this.
It’d been two days since he’d texted the deejay named Abby, asking her to stop talking about him on the air. He’d tuned into the station for the rest of that morning to ensure she didn’t mention him again. When she hadn’t, he assumed she had complied with his request. However, something didn’t seem right. Why was there a sudden boost in attendance? Even though his class was popular, the students tended to slack off on Fridays.
Still puzzled, Aiden opened his laptop to start his presentation. He greeted the students with a forced smile. “Good morning, everyone. I’m surprised to see so many new faces today. Just curious, how many of you aren’t registered for this class, but are here to check it out? A show of hands, please.”
Over a dozen young woman raised their hands. A small group of them were sitting in the front row, bright-eyed and attentive. He pointed to one and asked, “Do you mind telling me what brought you here today?”
She batted her lashes and grinned. “I heard about you on the radio and had to come check you—I mean, the class out.”
Giggles filled the room as other students nodded and murmured in agreement.
Aiden didn’t know whether to be amused or disturbed. No, he was definitely the latter. And bordering on angry, which was one emotion he hadn’t felt in a long time. Come to think of it, he didn’t feel much these days other than sadness and loneliness. In a way, this was a welcome change. But he’d rather make changes on his terms, not someone else’s. “So, you heard about me on Tuesday?”
“Nope, I think it was Wednesday.”
The girl next to her piped up, “I heard them talking about you yesterday.”
He balled his hands into tight fists. “Yesterday?”
Another student added, “They mentioned you this morning, too.”
“I see.” He took a deep breath and tried to stay calm, even as the muscles in his jaw tightened. It took everything in him to not pull out his phone and text the deejay right then and there.
But first, he had a lecture to give. Except he couldn’t remember a single point he was supposed to go over. To buy time, he undid the buttons at the cuffs of his dress shirt. As he rolled the long sleeves up to his elbows, he quickly glanced through his notes. When he finally looked up, there were a couple of hundred students waiting expectantly for him. “Let’s get started, why don’t we.”
Aiden had gone through a handful of slides when a student held up her phone and aimed it in his direction. Several more did the same, not bothering to hide the fact that they were not paying attention to his lecture. Kids and their electronic devices. He frowned. When did he start sounding like an old man? Probably since he heard one of his students refer to him as one on the radio. If only they knew how cool he had been back in the day.
Actually, if he had his way, they never would. He’d not only been cool, but selfish, too.
He raised his hands to draw everyone’s attention. “I don’t mind you coming today to check out my lecture—” he stressed the last word “—but I do have a “no phones” policy. This means no texting or calling in the auditorium. If you need to respond to a message, please step outside to do so.”
The woman he had questioned earlier raised her hand. “Can we take pictures?”
“Pictures?” He glanced over his shoulder at the screen behind him. “Of the presentation notes? That’s fine.”
“Not of the notes,” she replied glibly, “of you.”
“What? Why do you want to take a picture of me?”
“Abby from The Morning Show asked us to get proof of your hotness.”
His jaw dropped. It took a good long minute before Aiden composed himself enough to talk. “Please delete any pictures you took of me. Your parents are paying good money for you to come here and learn, not to play the role of paparazzi. If you disagree, you can take it up with the dean.”
Whispers flew around the hall, but Aiden pretended to hear none of them. He didn’t care that they now thought he was a hot, grumpy professor. He’d had enough of this deejay’s antics. And he was going to let her know.<
br />
As soon as the lecture ended, Aiden retreated to his office. He turned on the radio on his desk and heard Mornings with Marcus and Abby still in progress. Sure enough, the deejays were talking about him—again.
A rush of heat flowed up his neck and into his cheeks. He was sure his face was as flushed as it had been in those awful tabloid photos from years ago; at least this time alcohol wasn’t the cause. He’d stopped drinking after he crashed his car and narrowly avoided hitting a mother and her young children on the sidewalk. He’d done some stupid things when he was younger—most of which had been driven by grief—but there was no good excuse for his reckless behavior. Those were the memories he wanted to keep hidden. What would his colleagues and his students think of him if they found out?
He had to stop this Abby person from digging further. And there was only one way to do that. Call her up and talk some sense into her.
Picking up his phone, he dialed the station’s number. When he got a busy signal, he ended the call and tried again. On his third try, he heard the phone ring.
On the fifth ring, a woman picked up. “Hi, thank you for calling 103.1. Who am I speaking with?”
“I’d like to talk to Abby. I don’t know her last name, but she’s the deejay on the air right now. This is important. I need to speak with her. Please.”
“If you’re calling in for the prize pack, I’m sorry to say you’re not caller ten. Please hang up and try again. Thanks for calling.”
“I’m not—” Aiden clenched his jaw as the line went silent. This station’s staff was certainly efficient. No matter, he’d try again. He hit the redial button and waited.
The same woman answered. “Hi, thanks for calling 103.1. Who am I speaking with?”
“Don’t hang up on me.”
“Of course not, sir. You’re caller ten. Congratulations!”
“What? Are you serious?”
“Yes. It’s your lucky day. I’ll need to gather some information from you so you can claim your prize.”
Aiden rolled his eyes. Lucky day? Hardly. “I don’t care about the prize. I want to talk to Abby the deejay.”
“We’ll get to that soon, sir. Now, may I have your name and the city you’re calling from?”
“It’s Professor Spark from Palo Alto. Can I talk to Abby now?”
“Professor Spark?” The woman gasped and repeated, “The Professor Spark? As in the one from Pacific College?”
“Yes, it’s me. And I de—” He swallowed the word demand, choosing to keep his temper in check. He was so close to speaking to the deejay, he didn’t want to risk coming across as a disgruntled listener, and lose the opportunity. “I desire to speak with Abby. Please.”
“Certainly. Stay on the line; you’ll be up next.”
Now he was getting somewhere. He took a deep breath and waited. He heard the ending of a pop song play over the line, followed immediately by the first notes of another song. A very familiar melody. He couldn’t believe anyone still played Heartland songs. It was a blessing and a curse his band’s music had withstood the test of time. A young man started to sing, causing him to cringe. He never liked the sound of his own voice, especially the teenage version of it. He pulled the phone away from his ear for a moment, and nearly missed hearing a woman call out his name.
“Professor Spark? Are you there?”
He placed the phone back to his ear. “Yes, this is he.”
The woman squealed in delight. “Professor Spark, am I happy to hear from you. You’ve been a hot topic around here.”
“Yes, well, that’s exactly why I called. I’d like to speak with Abby the deejay.”
“You’re speaking to her! But hold that thought.” She paused before announcing, “We have a winner folks. It’s our very own hot professor. Professor Spark, you are caller ten. Congratulations! You’ve won the prize pack …”
Aiden glanced down at his desk, suddenly hearing Abby in surround sound. Her voice was coming from the radio and the phone. Was he on the air with her?
“Professor Spark, tell us, who are you going to take to the concert? Are you seeing anybody? Inquiring minds want to know.”
“I, uh …” Sure enough, his own voice was coming over the radio. He quickly shut it off. “Can I get off the air? I need to speak to you in private.”
“Professor Spark, you must know all our listeners have been dying to find out more about you. You sound like quite a catch. Please humor us and share something about yourself. Just one interesting fact.”
Aiden’s face flushed again. Fine. If she wanted to hear something about him, he’d tell her. “I find your line of work demoralizing. You spend all your time gossiping about celebrities. Have you ever considered these are real people going through real problems?”
“Oo-kay. Someone’s obviously not a fan of the entertainment industry. Which is what radio is all about, Mr. Spark.” Abby’s tone was light, but there was an edge to it. “If you don’t like our commentary, you don’t have to listen. Last time I checked, there are other stations out there.”
He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. Had he chewed out a deejay on the air? What was his problem? Fine, he knew what the issue was. He had about ten years of anger at the media bottled up inside him, and it had sprung a leak. A very big one. He gritted his teeth. So much for steering away from arguments with women. He wasn’t going down now without a fight.
Chapter Six
Abby
Abby shot up in her chair and leaned forward. Talk about being kept on the edge of her seat; she was there in more ways than one. She couldn’t believe her luck—or was it providence? The very person she’d been hunting for information about this past week had called into the station. And she was speaking—er, arguing—with him on the air at that very moment. Adrenaline pumped through her veins as she anticipated the professor’s next answer.
“Look,” he barked, “no decent human being would exploit someone’s weaknesses for entertainment’s sake. There are more important matters going on in the world for you to talk about. You’ve been given this great platform; you should use it for good.”
“Why I never,” Abby huffed. Of course she knew what great opportunities her job offered. “I am using it for good! I support the arts, something you obviously don’t appreciate.”
The professor scoffed. “You really shouldn’t make snap judgments like that. I have a family member in show business, and I fully support him. But I don’t endorse all the lies and rumors the media spreads about him.”
“You have a family—wait a minute!” Abby gasped. She suddenly realized why his last name had rung a bell when she first heard it. “You’re not related to Evan Spark, are you?”
“He’s my youngest brother.”
Abby turned to Marcus and pretended to fan her hand in front of her face. She raised her brows in delight. Evan Spark was one of Hollywood’s rising stars who had landed a role on one of TV’s most popular teen dramas. And he was hot. The teen in her swooned whenever he appeared on screen. If this professor was related to Evan Spark, he had to be handsome, too. “You don’t say. Well, if good looks run in the family, then we won’t need any photo evidence of your hotness. He’s your youngest brother? How many brothers do you have? And are any of them single and over thirty?”
“There are five, but only two of us are—hold on,” he stammered, “that’s beside the point. We were talking about you and the media and the part you play in perpetuating gossip and ruining people’s reputations.”
“Ruining people’s reputations? They do it to themselves. We only report it. It’s news, plain and simple.”
“That kind of information shouldn’t be sensationalized. You’re wasting your breath talking about things that don’t matter. It’s wrong, plain wrong. You should be shedding light on issues that will do good in people’s lives, like raising money for cancer research. That’s the kind of stuff that matters. Not the stupid mistakes a celebrity made when he was drowning his grief in alcohol.” Th
e professor stopped his rant and took a shaky breath. “Excuse me. I need to go.”
“Go? We’re just getting started.”
“Please leave me alone.”
Abby dropped her jaw. She sat frozen, her heart beating fast. She’d been going over her rebuttal in her head, but now she was listening to dead silence on the air. What had happened?
Marcus recovered faster than she did and quickly segued into the next song. He took his headphones off and blew out a long breath. “Score: Abby, one; Professor, zero. It’s a shame. He didn’t even try very hard.”
“No, he didn’t.” She should’ve been happy the professor had given up. Then why did it feel like she’d been punched in the gut? She removed her headphones and got up from her seat. “I’m going to the ladies’ room.”
Shuffling her feet along the worn brown carpet, she made her way down the hallway. The building housed another non-competing radio station, and everyone was busy at work behind closed doors. She’d almost reached the restroom when her phone buzzed. For a split second, she wondered if it was Professor Spark sending her a text. She swiped the screen open and saw a new message from her sister.
Abby! You’ll never guess who I met on set! EVAN SPARK. He’s even more gorgeous in person. I told him you’re his biggest fan. Gotta run. I’ll text you pics later!
Abby slumped against the wall and laughed bitterly. Talk about coincidences. The one TV show Emma had landed a role on as an extra had to be Evan Spark’s show. The brother of the man she had chewed out on the air. Chewed out to the point where Professor Spark’s voice had fallen flat and been laced with sadness.
She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. Even with a thick sweatshirt on, she felt a chill run down her back. She didn’t want to acknowledge the emotion weighing on her heart. But the guilt loomed like a dark shadow, confirming how badly she’d behaved. Drat! She hated how sensitive she had become since receiving Christ.