Getting Schooled (The Wright Brothers Book 1)

by Jones, Christina C

  “Man, whatever,” I said, tossing my printed copy of the paper onto Professor Bryant’s desk. I strolled out, stopping right in front of the princess. I breathed in, and whatever perfume she was wearing, some mixture of jasmine and sandalwood and vanilla, made me damn near forget what I was about to say. “Just tell her Jason stopped by, if you’re seeing her today, aiight?”

  She had her back pressed to the door, staring up with this bored expression. “Aiight, Jason.” She sidled out of her position between me and door, gripping the knob in her hand as I stepped back, into the hall. “But just so you know… grades are final.”

  I didn’t even have a chance to respond before she closed the door in my face.

  three.

  I closed the door, and locked it too, for good measure. I needed that strong separation between me and “Jason”. I was hoping more than anything to shut off his presence, his smell, the inexplicable heat between my legs that had grown hotter and hotter as we went back and forth.

  It didn’t work.

  I hung my head, pressing my back to the door. It was so very, very like me to be turned on by a rude ass. It wasn’t just a one-time thing anymore, so calling him an asshole last week felt pretty damned accurate now. I put my thumbs to my nipples, trying to calm them down, and hoping that my strategically crossed arms had hidden them from Mr. Stick-Up-His-Butt’s view.

  The last thing I needed was one of my mother’s students thinking he had some kind of effect on me. Just because his skin was mouthwatering like roasted pecans, and his chiseled features gave me GQ vibes, and that neatly-groomed-but-scruffy thing he had going in the facial hair area was swoon-worthy, and his biceps were down right lickable, and—shit.

  Ugggggh!

  Why did he have to be so insolent and fine? Two qualities that I generally avoided in men, because they were shamefully irresistible. But, haha, lucky me. Good old Jason was undoubtedly the author of one of the papers I suffered through, since he was up here complaining about his grade.

  That was a turn off to end them all.

  With a smirk on my face, I marched over to my mother’s desk and snatched up the printed copy of his paper, flipping to the end to read the grade.

  82.5.

  Wait… what?

  I read those numbers again, to make sure I was seeing them right, and there it was again – nowhere near a failing grade. I skimmed over the comment my mother had left at the end, then moved my eyes to the top of the page to read a little of the content.

  Holy shit.

  The pages fluttered out of my hands. I didn’t need them to know what words would come next, because I’d read that paper so many times, for my own enjoyment, that I practically knew the words from memory.

  The first page had landed face up on the desk, right in front of me. The program that I used to critique papers removed the title block, to help preserve student anonymity. All I ever (usually) knew was the student’s last name and first initial, and at a black college, come on. We had so many Johnsons and Browns and Washingtons and Jacksons that knowing someone’s surname and first initial really didn’t mean you knew shit.

  But I did know something.

  I knew now that the J. Wright I was scholastically crushing on was the same dude who’d had the nerve to be pissy with me after we bumped into each other. The same one who’d gotten an attitude when I answered his question, on my damn day off. I wasn’t even supposed to be here today – I was doing mama a personal favor since she was without her car.

  “It’ll only take ten minutes Reesie, promise.”

  Yeah.

  And those ten minutes had cost me the blissful ignorance that the refined, progressive, possibly loc’d, Nubian intellectual I’d imagined was actually some discourteous mofo named Jason.

  And… I wasn’t turned off by it.

  No, no, the exact opposite.

  Another, less insane girl might have considered this a waste of appeal. Handsome and smart were universally appealing, but being a jerk was usually a deal breaker.

  Not your silly ass though, Reese.

  Nope.

  That little hint of savagery was like catnip to me. Our little exchange, paired with his gorgeous face, already had me hot and bothered, but now? Knowing that he read actual books – more than just for class. He had to, to have a worldview like that – and understood them well enough to make cogent literary and social criticisms about those books?

  It brought the teensy, tiniest little tear to my eye. Because this man was the friggin’ holy trifecta. I mean, holy trinity. I mean… shit.

  He had my head all messed up.

  - & -

  “Reesie, were you rude to one of my students?”

  My eyes went wide, and stayed glued to the road in front of me as I pulled to a stop at a red light.

  Goddamnit he snitched on me… excellent move.

  “Mommy whhhaaa? Who would tell you such a thing?”

  She sucked her teeth. “So you were then.”

  I cringed a little, turning my head to stare out the driver side window as I waited for the light to change. My mother didn’t say anything else, but that silence weighed on me more than words, and she knew it. I peeked up at the light – still red, damn! – and then over at her, to see her phone in her hands.

  Guess Jason had put those writing skills into an email, which I would pay good money to read. He didn’t even know Corey Jefferson and he’d gutted that man’s entire literary existence. Was it bad that I got a little bit aroused thinking about how he’d probably filleted me in the email to my mother?

  “It really wasn’t anything that big, I promise.”

  I glanced up at her, noting the censure in her eyes before I turned back to the road, just in time for the light to turn.

  “That’s interesting, because based on this email…”

  “What does it say?” I asked, trying not to sound too giddy.

  “Well, Mr. Wright is rather wordy – part of the problem with his paper – so how about I just give you the highlights? “Earlier this afternoon, I had a startlingly negative interaction with the young woman working as your grad assistant. She was flippant, confrontational, and offensive, all in response to a humble, respectful request.””

  I rolled my eyes. Startlingly negative? Flippant? Offensive? Humble, respectful request? He was laying it on as thick as unstirred natural peanut butter.

  “When asking when I could get in contact with you, her response was unhelpful, and as we continued interfacing, progressed to openly vicious. She insulted my intellect when I mentioned wanting to speak with you about my grade, and I can’t remember the exact words, but I believe it was something along the lines of, “Why, dumbass? What are you even doing here? Your stupid ass failed, didn’t you?””

  “Okay wait a minute,” I giggled, barely keeping myself from breaking into a howl of laughter. “I did not say that to him, oh my God!”

  “I don’t know Reesie, sounds like you…”

  “Mommy!”

  “Hmm?”

  “You really believe I said that to some random student?!”

  “Well…”

  “I would never—”

  “Oh calm down little girl,” my mother laughed, and I glanced over at her again as I made a right turn. “I know you didn’t say those exact words… but I also know you. Mr. Wright is exaggerating, I’m sure, but I want you tell me why you’re arguing with the students.”

  “He started it,” I mumbled under my breath, instantly feeling sixteen instead of twenty-six. “I was in there getting those email addresses and stuff for you when he came in, saying he was looking for you. I told him your office hours were printed on the door, and he got smart with me!”

  “And what did you do?”

  Her voice was stern, and internally, I groaned. “I got smart back. But you have to understand, he bumped into me last week, and totally acted like it was my fault!”

  “So that’s a good reason for you to forget that you work for the
university, and should remain professional when you’re interacting there?”

  I sighed. “No. It’s not.”

  “Mmhmm. Maybe you should have thought about that, because getting reported to your boss, or your boss’s boss, isn’t going to look good when you need references. It’s a hurdle to climb. You’re a grown woman, I shouldn’t have to clean up your messes anymore. And trying to explain to my department chair why you shouldn’t get a formal reprimand, or worse, be fired, is exactly that – a mess.”

  “No,” I said immediately, shaking my head even though my eyes were on the road. “You don’t have to do that mama. You did enough by convincing them that I was a worthy hire, that it wasn’t nepotism with me being your daughter. I don’t want them looking at you any kind of way. I didn’t have to go there with him, so if a formal reprimand is what would happen to anybody else, that’s just the punishment I’ll have to take.”

  I was right on the edge of tears, but swallowed them, even though they were sharp and bitter in my throat. Emailing my mother – though I doubt he knew that part, just that she was my boss – with that exaggerated account of what happened was one thing. Reporting me to the department was a whole other, fucked up thing. Still… I could have kept my mouth shut.

  “I appreciate the maturity in that, Reesie. The only reprimand you’re getting this time is a verbal one, from me. Play nice with the students, no matter how much they work your nerves. You want to be in front of a classroom full of adults someday, you’re going to have to learn. Mr. Wright could have easily forwarded this to Dr. Bradley too. Lucky for you, he didn’t.”

  Relief swept through me as I pulled to the last traffic light before I would turn into the parking lot of our destination. I leaned forward, briefly touching my head to the steering wheel before I sat back with a sigh. “Point taken.”

  “Mmmhmm. I’m honestly surprised at you. I mean, I know you have that spitfire streak in you from your father, but at work? With a student?”

  I blew out another sigh, shaking my head. “I surprised myself. He just… brought something out of me.”

  My mother chuckled. “Uh huh. I just bet he did.”

  “And what does that mean?!” I gasped.

  “Little girl I’ve seen Jason Wright, and I’m not blind! And I’ve seen you fawn over his writing. A 90 on that paper? Seriously?”

  I shrugged. “I thought it was good.”

  “It wasn’t 90 points worth of good. You can’t let your little punany grade papers Reesie.”

  I burst out laughing. “Seriously, mommy?”

  “As a heart attack.”

  I was still grinning as I pulled into a parking space and turned off my car. “I didn’t even know who he was to connect the face to the paper.”

  “Whatever you say. And you fought with him too? That’s another thing you get from your father. Always want to fight with somebody, because afterward...” She trailed off, with a dreamy look on her face and made a noise in her throat. “I definitely miss that afterward part.”

  “Ewwww,” I said, even though I grinned. “Don’t nobody want to think about you and my daddy, and don’t nobody want to think about some young behind college boy.”

  My mother smirked. “Jason Wright is a non-traditional student, my dear. He’s twenty-eight.”

  I almost made the same sound in my throat that she’d made a few moments earlier. No wonder he was so fine. He was a grown man, with that fuzzy-sexy five o’clock shadow, and hands that were big, and probably a little rough, and he was so… sturdy when we bumped into each other, that he hadn’t even moved. And despite my visceral, reflexive reaction to his mechanic’s shirt, he smelled clean enough to wrap myself in and snuggle up. And… a man who knew how to make a car purr could probably make a kitty purr too.

  Don’t you have a boyfriend?

  “Huh?”

  “I said are you ready to go in?” My mother called from the other side of the car. She was already out, standing beside the car and peeking in at me.

  “Oh! Yeah!”

  I quickly got myself out of the car, taking a deep breath as I hit the button on my key fob to lock the doors. “So… how did you reply to his message?”

  “Who?”

  “Jason.”

  “Oh!” My mother grinned as she pulled her phone from her purse, and then hit a few buttons before she began to read. “Mr. Wright, I am deeply regretful that you had that experience. I’ll be speaking with Reese about it, and will make sure that you receive an apology from her for her actions—”

  “Say what now?”

  “Uh huh. Now hush, and let me finish. I’m surprised that Ms. Alston would act in such a manner, especially when she was an advocate for your paper to receive a higher grade. Unfortunately, I do not agree with her assessment. Simply work harder, Mr. Wright. The potential is there. If you have further questions or concerns, I’ll be available after class tomorrow. Have a good weekend.”

  I shook my head. “I tried to tell him that.”

  “I know. He said that your words were something like, “Ain’t no grade change, bih!”, whatever the heck that means.”

  My eyes damn near bugged out of their sockets, and I stopped in my tracks as we headed for the front door. “He actually wrote that?!”

  “Yes. And judging by your reaction, I’m starting to think he wrote the email knowing you would see it,” she said, eyebrow raised.

  I squared my shoulders and shook my head, trying not to smile. I would bet money that Jason Wright knew exactly what he was doing, and it was working, because my little twisted crush wasn’t dying down.

  I finally looked my mother in the eyes as we walked through the door of J&P Auto Sales, ignoring their amused light. “Maybe so, mama. Maybe so.”

  - & -

  “Do you even know that man’s last name mama?” I teased, grinning at my mother’s obvious excitement as she relaxed into the passenger seat of my car.

  “I’m sure I’ll find out when he calls,” she quipped back, and laughed.

  “Alright then. I guess you’ve still got it.”

  We’d just stepped out of J&P Auto Sales, and from the beginning, she’d been a goner – for the purchase of a car, and for the dealership’s silver fox owner.

  The moment we stepped through the door and he spotted her, I’d watched his eyes light up as he damn near sprinted to get to her first, before the other salesmen. He was a nice looking guy, and exactly my mother’s type. Tall, smooth dark skin, and well groomed facial hair. The salt and pepper look was gravy.

  “How are you ladies doing today?” he asked, in a deep voice with a little hint of rasp, and I could swear my mother shivered. He’d addressed us both, but was looking only at her as he extended his hand. “I’m the J in J&P Auto, Joseph senior.”

  “Hello Joseph.” She’d regained her composure, and straightened her shoulders, putting on a look best described as sensually aloof. She ran a free hand through her short-cropped curls – Joseph was still holding the other one – and pinned him with those big brown eyes. “What does the P stand for?”

  Joseph’s face dropped a little bit, in a hint of sincere sadness. “Priscilla. My late wife.”

  I’m pretty sure the word “wife” registered in my mother’s brain first, because for about half of a second, her face was pulled into a scowl. Then the rest of the words hit, and her expression softened into sympathy.

  Sensual sympathy, if that was a thing.

  She stepped a little closer to him, covering their – still – clasped hands with her other one. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up a sensitive topic.”

  “Oh, it’s no trouble at all.” The smile came back to his face, warmer than ever. “She lived a wonderful, full life. Was a partner in this business, gave me three sons, thirty-six years of marriage. The last four years have been hard, but she’s in a better place than here now, having a grand old time. Looking down on us, expecting us to do the same.”

  Wait… was that a hint that…?


  “And what was your name?” He asked, smoothly flitting to the next thing.

  “Imara Bryant.”

  “Beautiful name. Very fitting.”

  Oh my God. If her skin was lighter, she’d be friggin’ beet red.

  “What can I do for you today, Imara?”

  My mother’s name rolled off his tongue like he was making love to it, and my eyes went wide. Like, right here in the dealership, bruh? I thought, but knew ten times better than to say out loud. Besides, my mother was eating it up, and I had to admit that Mr. Chocolate was smooth. She had a big grin stuck on her face, and it took me a moment to realize she hadn’t answered. I shook my head.

  “A car,” I said, speaking up for the first time, and mama and black George Clooney looked at me like they’d forgotten I was there. “She’s here for a car. Remember, mama?”

  “Ah.” She gave Joseph a sweet – sensual sweet – smile. “Yes. I need to buy a car.”

  So she bought a car.

  And she actually got a good deal, according to my frantic blue-book valuing from my cell phone while Joseph sweet-talked her into a sleek black luxury vehicle(which she already wanted before we came to the dealership), and out of her phone number. The car stayed at the dealership to get some adjustments to the trim package, so I was driving her back home, and teasing her the whole way.

  Even though it was a happy moment, I shuddered thinking about the reason she needed the new car in the first place. A few weeks ago, she’d been heading to go pick up her best girlfriend for a spa weekend. Some idiot got impatient and ran a red light as she was making a turn, and ended up t-boning her, on the passenger side.

  Luckily, she’d walked away from the accident, with nothing more than a few bumps and bruises. But a car accident had taken my father seven years ago, and I couldn’t help thinking about what might have happened if the car had been going faster, or hit or on the driver’s side, or…