“I’d share, but I drank most of the bottle before our call.” Liz smiled sheepishly. “I was a little nervous.”
“Of what? Me?” Sean couldn’t imagine her afraid of anything, certainly not him. Didn’t she know she had him wrapped around her little finger?
“Yes, you,” she said. “I didn’t know how you would react when I told you about Jonathan.”
“What did you expect?”
Liz shrugged. “I figured you’d find a way to get off the call and then run for the hills.”
“Not a chance. I like kids,” he said. “The kinky show wasn’t necessary. But I loved it.” He indicated his cock, still half erect on his stomach.
“I still have some self-esteem issues, too.”
“You won’t when I get through with you.” Sean promised.
“I wondered if you’d find me sexy without my big breasts bouncing around.” She pointed to her chest. He wouldn’t mind exploring there with his hands and tongue, but she seemed very sensitive about it.
“I’ll prove it,” he said. “Take off the vest.”
“What?” Liz bolted upright, clutching the V-neck opening. “Are you crazy?”
“What do you have to lose?”
“That look.” She pointed at him. “That look in your eyes that tells me I’m a sexy love goddess. If you saw my chest, all that would change. At best, I’d get pity. At worst, you’d be turned off.”
“Or you could see that I still think you’re beautiful.”
“Have you ever seen what a double mastectomy looks like?” Liz challenged him.
“No,” he admitted.
“Google it. Look up non-reconstructed and reconstructed. We’ll talk on Saturday.”
She turned off Skype, essentially hanging up on him.
Well, that went well . . . not.
Chapter Eight
How many computers do you need?” Mike said, bustling into the office and flopping on the couch. He was one of the other teaching assistants.
“How many ya got?” Sean said without looking up from the user interface for the college’s mainframe. The mainframe was running through a series of algorithms comparing the drug use for employees of varied professions. Sean had spent most of the last few months painstakingly entering the data he culled from his research. Now it was just a matter of the computer processing the information, looking for statistical correlations. While it did that, Sean tried to get organized. His personal laptop was on his lap and he was deleting the junk mail in his inbox. His work laptop was currently holding down term papers because he had opened the window to get some fresh air.
“You going to be leaving soon?”
“Yeah, I’m leaving in a minute.” Content with the mainframe’s speed and calculations, Sean turned to look at Mike who was lying down with his arm over his eyes. He wished it was Liz.
“Well, hurry up,” Mike said. “You’re not the only one who needs to get some crap done. I figured no one would be around today.”
“Take it easy. I’m heading down to Queens.” Sean shoved his paperwork into his backpack.
“How are things going at the clinic?” Mike said, stifling a yawn.
Sean stood and stretched, rolling out the kinks in his neck. “Gladys and I are meeting today.”
“Good luck with that.” Mike hauled himself up and into the seat Sean had vacated. “What’s this shit?” He tapped the mainframe.
“Leave it alone. It’s thinking. If it finishes while you’re still here, can you email me the results?”
Mike gave him a thumbs up. “Will do.”
Sean packed up his things, secured his backpack straps, and took off at a jog. It felt good to work the kinks out of his muscles. He made good time getting to the subway station and was able to grab a water and eat a PowerBar before the next train.
His luck held and he got a seat while the F train rattled its way beneath the city. Sean got off a stop before the clinic so he could fit in some more exercise. Unfortunately, that made him five minutes late for his meeting.
“I’m sorry,” he said to Gladys. “I should have at least picked up coffee.”
“It’s all right. I was running behind anyway. I just want to touch base with you. How’s everything going?”
He sank down into the comfy chair and stared at her Peter Max painting. It was a psychedelic butterfly with lots of heads. It’s how he pictured an acid trip would look. “As well as can be expected. I’m having some trouble with the kids who don’t want to take me up on the after-school boxing sessions.”
“You excel at reaching kids through physical activity. But not all kids are going to respond to that. You need to work on your conversational approach. You’re not a good talker.”
“Thanks,” he said.
Gladys laughed. “Dr. Krauss and I are very pleased with your work. It’s just something to think about. You can be too direct. Sometimes you have to sit back and let it all unfold. But that kills you to do that.” She held up her fists. “You’re a man of action.”
“Stop,” Sean held up his hands in surrender. “My ego can’t take it. If I wanted an analysis of what I’m doing wrong with my life, I’d call my father.”
“You know what Freud said about that?” Gladys raised an eyebrow.
“That ‘sometimes a cigar is just a cigar’?” he returned.
“Speaking of cigars, when are you going to bring McManus around here?” She batted her eyelashes. “I’d like to get to know him better.”
Sean made a face. “Dear Lord, why? He thinks using Irish Spring soap is getting all gussied up. You want to know him better? Go to the gym. You’ll be running back here after five minutes.”
“I was hoping to get him out of his environment.”
“Good luck with that.”
“So what’s your plan for reaching the kids who don’t like boxing?”
Sean shook his head. “I’ve been trying to wrap my brain around it. They need something that will show quick results; otherwise I’ll lose them.”
“What about computer sessions?” Gladys gestured at the two laptops he carried in his backpack. “Maybe your non-jocks would get into computer classes instead. Teach them some job skills instead of beating each other over the head.”
Sean sat up straight in his chair. “That’s a great idea.”
“All those kids are obsessed with social media now; show them how to do their own animated pictures or the cartoon with the grumpy cat and a funny saying or something.”
“Maybe not the gifs or memes.”
“I love it when you talk nerdy to me,” she joked.
“But building a website or a nice blog might be a good way to focus their energies into something productive.” His phone vibrated and he saw a text from Liz come through.
“Good,” Gladys said. “Anything else bothering you?”
Liz.
Sean looked over his shoulder. “Let me close the door.”
“This ought to be good.”
Sean closed the door and sat back down. “Have you ever dealt with a woman who came to you for therapy about a double mastectomy?”
Gladys sobered. “Oh yes, it’s very traumatic. As if the damned cancer wasn’t enough, they had to lose their breasts, too. It’s very much like the five stages of grief. Why do you ask? Surely one of your kids isn’t going through this.”
“No,” Sean said, glancing at the message from Liz. She was confirming the time he was meeting her and her friends at Angelica Kitchen in the East Village tonight. They had decided to do casual instead of a formal dinner after Liz didn’t like the vegetarian choices at the restaurant Sarah had picked out. “I’ve got a new friend who had it done a year ago,” he said. “And I was trying to understand what she went through.”
“Did you ask her?”
“I didn’t want to pry or put her on the spot.”
Gladys rolled her eyes. “Men. If she doesn’t want to talk about it, she’ll tell you. What have you noticed about her when she does
speak of the surgery?”
“She’s very self-deprecating.”
“It’s a hit to the self-esteem.”
“But she’s absolutely gorgeous,” Sean protested.
“A friend, huh?” Gladys waggled her eyebrows at him.
“Maybe a little more than that,” he admitted.
Gladys clasped a hand to her heart. “Say it ain’t so. All those coeds are going to cry their little hearts off when OMG O’Malley is taken off the market.”
Sean rolled his eyes at the nickname. He made the mistake of jogging to school one day, thinking he’d change in the TA office. Almost overnight he went from being unnoticed to being chased around by freshmen. “As long as they stop leaving me little love notes.”
“I still say you should sell those to Penthouse.”
Sean shook his head. “I think that would only encourage them.”
“You’re probably right.” Gladys got up from her desk. “Well, we’ve got work to do. I just wanted to check in and make sure you didn’t need any help.”
“I appreciate it.” He meant it, too. Dr. Krauss and Gladys had taken him under their wing. He was hoping they were grooming him to come into the practice. But if that wasn’t in the cards, it was still a good place to get in the hours needed for his certification.
He’d be glad when he finally got the degree. All the running back and forth from here to campus was killing him.
*** ***
Angelica Kitchen was a cute little place with really good food. Sean had eaten a big lunch in anticipation of being hungry later, but he had been wrong. The portions were large and savory.
The four of them sat at a table, their knees practically touching, but it was a homey feel, even with all the other patrons bustling around. The soft murmur of voices washed over the music playing in the background. It was a chill place, one he wouldn’t have ever gone to on his own.
He held Liz’s hand under the table while they waited for their coffee and desserts. Sarah and Cole turned out to be regular people. He had been a little overwhelmed when he realized just who they were. Sarah, of course, was the famous porn star Sugar. And Cole was the scion of an old money Manhattan family. The Cannings were well known philanthropists and, although their reputation took a hit when Cole married a retired adult film actress, they seemed to be bouncing back by ignoring her past. Baby Christopher, who was with his grandparents tonight, certainly helped. And judging by the photos, he was the apple of his grandparents’ eyes.
“I’ve been looking for a place to train,” Cole said. “Tell me more about this gym you belong to.”
Yeah, like a hoi polloi would ever come down to McManus’s gym to work out. He’d take one look at the place and have his driver take him uptown as fast as traffic would allow. Still, Cole seemed a lot more down to earth than his reputation made him out to be.
The waitress delivered their chicory coffee and four dessert plates. Sean was stuffed, but he wasn’t about to let the confections go to waste.
“McManus used to coach for Team USA about twenty years ago, then he decided to open his own place.” Sean poured almond milk into his coffee. “He’s got a good eye for talent, but knows how to bring out the best in any fighter.”
“Sounds like someone I’d like to meet,” Cole said, stirring raw sugar into his.
“Let me know and I’ll come down with you and give you an introduction.” They bumped fists. “But I’m warning you, he’s a real prick if he thinks you aren’t working up to your potential—your potential being whatever he wants it to be.”
“Liz tells me you work with troubled youth,” Sarah said, and forked a piece of pineapple cake in her mouth.
“What?” Sean blurted out. Did she know?
“At the gym.” Liz gave him a quizzical look.
“Oh, right. Yeah. They’re good kids; they just need something to focus on that builds up their self-esteem.”
“Aren’t you afraid they’re going to take what you’ve taught them and beat up other kids at school?” Sarah’s tone was questioning and not accusatory, but Sean had heard that argument before.
“If they want to stay in my program, they wouldn’t dare. And anyway, most of these kids already know how to beat the shit out of someone. I’m teaching them a sport and a code. You don’t start a fight. You avoid a fight. But if you can’t avoid a fight, you end the fight.”
“Amen,” Cole said.
“Some of Sean’s pupils are girls,” Liz added, exchanging a glance with Sarah. “Wouldn’t you have liked to be able to knock the crap out of some asshole who was touching you and forcing you into a corner?”
“Definitely,” Sarah admitted. “So, are you going to teach Jonathan how to box?”
“If he wants to,” Sean said at the same time Liz said, “He’s too young.”
“No he’s not.” Sean smiled at her. “But it’s your call.”
“Isn’t it dangerous?” Liz nibbled her lip and Sean wanted those pretty white teeth on him.
“Not at all.” He snapped himself out of his lustful thoughts. Soon. “With the equipment we have them use and how we set up the practice bouts.”
“We’ll see,” she said.
“When my mom said that, it usually meant no.”
“Well, when I say that, it means I’ll have to look into it more.” Liz jostled her shoulder into his.
“You’re welcome to come down to the gym, too. Bring Jonathan. Just let me know ahead of time and I can set a few things up.”
“Do you spar?” Cole asked.
Sean nodded. “McManus is trying to get me to be a punching bag for this guy, Kyle Donovan. He’s going to be big. But he hits like a freight train.”
“We should go a couple of rounds,” Cole said, but it wasn’t a challenge. More like, let’s knock a few back.
“I’d like that.” Sean took a bite of his dessert, a raspberry rhubarb tart.
“Women bond over shopping,” Sarah told her husband.
“Men bond over beer and sports,” he shot back.
“I’ll go easy on you,” Sean said with a straight face.
“Oh, them’s fightin’ words.”
Sarah made exaggerated sniffing sounds. “The testosterone in here is choking.”
They laughed and went back to devouring their desserts.
“So is it dangerous for you?” Liz said, when they were finishing up their coffees. “The boxing?”
“It depends on the opponent. McManus runs a tight ship. He doesn’t want anyone hurt. None of the guys I know will go out of the way to put you in the hospital, but there’s always a risk in the heat of the moment. Sometimes you walk into a punch or take it the wrong way. Shit happens. But not as much as you think. Remember, we’re wearing head gear, gloves, and a mouthguard. If I was Donovan’s sparring partner, I’d wear a chest protector to soak up the impact on my ribs.”
“Why would you want to get beat up?” Liz shuddered.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Sean said and chuckled with the rest of them. “Money. If you can take the hit, you get paid for it. It’s expensive living in New York City.”
“A little like porn, only not as messy?” Liz nodded as if she was understanding something.
“Excuse me?” he choked on his coffee.
“You like boxing. It seems like easy money, so you go for it.”
Sean blinked. Was that what Mary Katherine thought? Easy money for something she’d do for free. His brain tried to shut down at the thought of his sister having sex, but the scientist in him had to put the facts on the table. Okay, so he got why she stripped and understood cringingly why she had gone into porn. The only other factor was the drugs. Looking at Cole and Sarah, it didn’t appear that they were users. He could see Sarah lighting up a joint or maybe Cole doing a line of coke, but they weren’t addicts.
“Have I offended you?” Liz asked, nudging him.
“No,” he said. “I just never thought of it that way. It’s interesting. My mind was taking
the metaphor even further.”
“He said metaphor,” Liz fluttered her hands. “My English lit heart is beating pitter pat.”
“Ha,” Sarah said. “Except now, it’s your psychologist’s heart.”
“What?” Sean said.
“Thanks for spoiling the surprise,” Liz huffed at Sarah, exasperated. “I was going to tell you later so we could celebrate with a bottle of champagne. I enrolled in NYU.”
“You did?” His lips felt numb, but he forced them to crack a smile.
“Silver campus. Maybe we’ll have some classes together.”
“This is so cute, I want to barf.” Sarah giggled and threw her arm around her husband.
“What classes are you taking?”
Please not Intro to Social Work. Please not . . .
“The only one I’ve had time to think about is Intro to Psych, but I’m wait-listed.”
Sweat broke out on Sean’s forehead. The restaurant narrowed to a tiny tunnel for a moment. He gulped down the last of his coffee, trying to quell the panic. It wasn’t a class he was teaching. But what if she heard about OMG O’Malley?
“You all right?” Cole asked.
He gave the other man a tight nod.
“It starts next semester,” Liz sipped the last of her apricot kanten. “Do you think they’ll let us know if we get in before the first day of class, or should I just show up and wait for them to kick me out?”
“Uh, usually, they open up another class if the wait-list is too long.”
“Oh, good.” Liz brightened.
“You’ll probably get an email letting you know what’s going on soon.”
He was a dead man. There was no way around this. He was going to have to tell her soon. He didn’t want her to find out from someone else. Sean stared up toward the front of the restaurant when a familiar face caught his eye.
Sabrina?
She didn’t seem shocked to see him. Crooking her little finger at him, she walked toward the bathrooms.
“Excuse me.” Sean got up. “I’m going to hit the little boys’ room.” He prayed that Cole wouldn’t follow and, as luck would have it, he didn’t. Sean made his way to the restaurant’s bathrooms where Sabrina was waiting with her shoulder hitched up against the wall. Luckily, the lines were long enough that he could have a conversation without attracting attention.
Spice Page 9