Razor's Edge: A Bad Boy Romance (Bad Boys of Football Book 2)

by Clementine Roux

  I slumped down on the bench reserved for children who’d been asked to speak to the principal. “His name is Edgecott.. well, Edge.” I corrected her. “Did I ever tell you, I used to know a guy with the same name? He hated his name as a kid, but no one ever gave him a hard time about it because he was like three times the size of most of us. I wonder whatever happened to him. He’s probably in jail somewhere. The boy was hard-headed. Kind of like this little guy. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say they could be related.”

  “Do you hear yourself?” Felicia asked. “You’re talking about something that happened twenty years ago when you should be in there dealing with those little bad ass kids in your class.”

  She didn’t have to tell me twice. I could only imagine what my room full of kindergartners had gotten into while I was away. The classroom grandmother loved them, but she also let them walk all over her. “I’ll see you later. Do you want to have lunch in my room?”

  “You’re on. I’m starving. Let’s order from the Chinese place around the corner. I heard the food is pretty good now that they got rid of the mean old cook,” Felicia had a story about everyone and everything. You’d think she grew up in Chicago the way she knew everything there was to know about everyone in the neighborhood. She was both a news and gossip junkie, but I loved her for it.

  I agreed and started to make my way back to my room.

  “Hey, what are the chances your old friend is this kid’s dad?” Felicia asked.

  I shrugged, laughing it off. “I doubt it. And, he was never my friend. I can’t imagine he’d be the type to stick around if he knocked someone up. From what I could tell, Edge’s father is pretty involved. He signs all the paperwork and daily folders. The guy I knew barely turned in any of his assignments, so yeah, it can’t be him.” I went back to my classroom to find a little more chaos than I’d expected.

  Great.

  Three long hours later, my stomach was growling and the hair I’d paid two hundred dollars to have done was a mess on top my head.

  “You look like shit,” Felicia teased. “Rough morning?”

  “I’ll ignore that, rude butt!” I opened my carton of shrimp fried rice and took a huge bite.

  “Was it Edge again?” Felicia asked as she took a bite of her Crab Rangoon.

  I walked over and shut the door to make sure no one would overhear what I had to say, especially my nosy ass principal. “He’s not really bad, he’s just naughty sometimes. He kicks or yells out of nowhere. If you tell him to go right, he goes left. If he wasn’t so darn cute, I’d kick him out of my room, but I can’t. Plus, the little guy is a sharp dresser. He spiffs up the joint.”

  “I know what’s wrong with him,” Felicia said, a spoonful of my rice in her hand.

  “Eat your own! What’s his problem, Miss Psychiatrist?” I teased her. “Well-dressed people get a pass in the city of Chicago?”

  “He’s a he.” Felicia shrugged. “He’s a male. Lord knows what’s going on in their heads! He can’t help it. Learn to deal with it or you’ll go crazy and you don’t need that in your life right now. I don’t care how well he dresses; bad is bad. Just remember, getting stressed out over something the boy can’t help because it’s in his DNA isn’t worth it.”

  She was right; I didn’t need to get worked up over nothing.

  “It’s been eighteen months,” I mumbled.

  “I know,” Felicia said, patting my hand. “You’ve been through a lot, but look how far you’ve come. He’d be so proud of you.”

  I fought to keep tears at bay. I was tired of crying, but I also felt guilty when I didn’t cry. “I miss him.”

  Felicia nodded. “I miss him too. Hell, he left me alone with only our dumbass sister to keep me company. You know that heifer can’t do nothing right. I swear, if she don’t get it together, she’s going to end up in the loony bin or put my parents in one.”

  A shrill ringing sound played over the intercom. “Mrs. Jackson?” Principal Cantor bellowed. “Come to the office right away.”

  “Why do you let him call you that? My brother has been gone a while; do you still want to be referred to as his wife?” Felicia whispered.

  “I’m eating lunch,” I answered, rolling my eyes. I didn’t have an answer for Felicia. When I married her brother, I thought it’d be forever. I didn’t know what the protocol was for when your spouse died. Was I still his wife?

  “Now!” Cantor demanded.

  Felicia promised to clean things up while I adjusted my attitude before going down to see what he wanted. “Good luck,” Felicia said.

  “I hope he fires me,” I joked. “I need the vacation.”

  As I rounded the corner to go into the office, I noticed a man standing with his back to me. His stance was solid, like a wall, but he had swagger. A beard covered his chin, but it wasn’t scruffy and ugly like some I’d seen over the years. It was well-manicured, glistening with product. Probably an expensive product, if I had to guess. He smelled divine and looked like luxury.

  “Here she is,” Principal Cantor said, pointing to me.

  The man turned around. My knees went weak. To say this man was gorgeous would have been an understatement. His eyes were pantie melting hot. If I ever had to describe him again, I’d never be able to pinpoint exactly what color they were other than plain gorgeous. Flecks of green, yellow, and almost orange were the only words I’d use to semi-describe them. Set against his tanned skin and dark hair, they were heart stopping beautiful.

  “You’re Mrs. Jackson?” he asked, his eyes traveling down my body, landing on my hips.

  My words were barely audible. “Um… yes.”

  “Well, damn! No wonder my boy is so distracted,” he said, licking his lips.

  I pulled my eyes from their position studying what I would bet was a tattoo sleeve on his arm. Part of it poked out of his shirt sleeve. “What can I help you with?” I asked.

  “This is Mr. Razor. He’s Edgecott’s father,” Principal Cantor said.

  “Edge.” Mr. Razor and I said simultaneously. “He likes to be called Edge.”

  He turned to face me. “Have we met before?” he asked.

  No, baby. I would have remembered you, I thought.

  “I don’t think so. I just moved back to Chicago this summer. I spent the last few years living in Spain with my husband,” I explained.

  He shook his head. “Your husband? You’re married?” His eyes fell to my noticeably empty ring finger. “No ring?”

  I covered my hand with the other, feeling self-conscience about having removed the ring from my hand. “My husband died almost two years ago. I wear our rings on my chain.” It still hurt so much to say my husband was gone.

  “Sorry. Damn, now I feel bad for coming down here to yell at you,” Mr. Razor said.

  “Thank you, but did you say you came down here to yell at me?” I asked.

  Principal Cantor spoke up. “I told you, there would be problems. I’m sure Mr. Razor can handle whatever is going on without involving counselors.”

  Oh, here we go again!

  “Let’s start again. I’m E.J. Razor, Edge’s father,” he said to me, offering a hand for me to shake.

  “I gathered that much. Nice to meet you, I suppose. I mean, now that I know you’re not going to scream at me,” I offered.

  He studied my face. “Where are you from originally?”

  Immediately my defenses were up. I thought he was going to say something ignorant, like I was from a strange, foreign land or something. “I’m from here. I grew up on the south side,” I answered.

  His eyes lit up. “You did? So did I! What school did you go to?” he asked.

  “Saint Thomas Moore for elementary school. I graduated from Clark High School,” I said.

  He stepped closer to me.

  My breath caught.

  “So did I! What was your maiden name?” he asked.

  That’s when it hit me. “You’re Edgecott Moranowski? But didn’t you say…” My voice trailed
off as I tried to conjure up an image of the foul-mouthed guy I went to school with; the guy who thought he walked on water. “Not to be rude, but your eyes were a different color back then, weren’t they?”

  “Contacts,” he explained, winking at me. “Razor is new too. It rolls off the tongue better than Moranowski does, don’t you think?”

  I studied him harder this time. I remembered Edgecott being a hot looking guy, but not this hot and not with these muscles. He had a certain maturity and massive sex appeal now. I mean, full-on manly sex appeal. He was, for lack of a better word, beautiful. Dangerously beautiful.

  “Mrs. Jackson,” Principal Cantor started. “Why don’t you take a moment to listen to what Mr. Razor has to say?”

  How could I refuse? I could listen to him read the phone book if he wanted me to, but I had a classroom full of kids that would be returning from recess soon. “What about my class?” I asked.

  “I’ll sit with them for a spell,” Principal Cantor offered.

  “So, looks like you’re all mine,” E.J. said, the corners of his lips curling up into a mischievous smile.

  Something told me he was talking about more than a friendly conversation between a kindergarten teacher and a concerned parent.

  “Use my office,” the principal said.

  Felicia returned to the room and stopped in her tracks. “Oh my,” she said, unable to help herself where handsome men were concerned. “Well, hello!”

  I glared at her. “This is Edge’s father. E.J. meet Felicia. She’s the school secretary.”

  E.J. turned up the heat in the room, saying, “I’d recognize the sexy voice anywhere. Looks like I’m going to have to call the school more often.”

  He was good. Really good. Boy was I in trouble.

  Chapter Three – Hillary

  “Sounds like we’re on the same page, then?” E.J. stood up, offering me his hand again.

  I’d spent the last twenty minutes fighting the urge to touch him -- any part of him. It was like he was a magnet and I was drawn to him. So much so, that if I was ever called to testify in court about what we’d discussed, the only things I could swear were the truth, were that his muscles were real -- oh, so real -- and the sound of his voice, made me want to strip my clothes off and jump on him. I’d never remember a word he said, but I’d always remember the tingling I experienced when looking at him.

  “I’ll let you get back to class. Here’s my number.” He handed me a business card.

  “Oh, your phone number is in the system. I don’t need it. I can grab it if something comes up,” I said, naively believing he was only handing it to me because of the problems I was having with his son in class and not because he was interested in me.

  He smiled a sinfully sexy smile. “Take it. You never know when you might need me.”

  Good God, did he have to say it like that?

  “Thanks,” I said coyly. “I’ll let you know if anything comes up. Er… with Edge, I mean. Can I ask you one last question?”

  Licking his lips, he nodded. “Anytime.”

  “How are things going at home? Edge mentioned there was some kind of court case going on. How is that going? Does it involve a business matter or something else?” I asked.

  Smoothing his beard, he answered, “That’s three questions. Are you trying to take advantage of me because, if you are, I like it. I like it a lot.”

  My mouth went dry. What was he trying to do; make me faint right here?

  “I… um… I just… Thanks for coming in to meet with me. It was so nice to meet you… again,” I said to save face. The last thing I needed was to build a reputation for being a bumbling fool in front of a parent -- this particular parent in particular.

  He led me out of the room, his large, strong hand on the small of my back. “Edge knows there’s something going on between his mother and I. I try to be as honest as I can without saying something that will change him. You know what I mean? I read somewhere that if you say something about your child’s parent, it changes who the child is, so I try not to say anything bad about my ex in front of him. She’s not making it easy for me, though.”

  I understood. My parents divorced when I was a teenager. My mother made it a point not to say anything negative about my good for nothing father. She always treated him with respect when and if he came around, but my father on the other hand, never had a kind word for her. He was jealous, vindictive, and plain salty where my mother was concerned. His attitude about her had a profound effect on me, so I got where he was coming from about how what someone says changes their children’s perceptions of themselves.

  “Not to be mean, but isn’t your personal information public knowledge? Don’t you think he’ll find out what’s going on and what’s being said? You play football, right?” I asked.

  E.J. stopped walking. “Yeah, I play football. Better than anyone else who has ever played. You really don’t know who I am? Have you been living under a rock?” His tone was sharp, like I’d offended him by not knowing how big a star he’d become since we’d last met.

  Well, that escalated quickly. “Here I was beginning to think, I was wrong about you when we were growing up. I used to think, you were nothing but an inflated ego on legs, but for a second, the tiniest fragment of a second, I started to change my mind. I was even considering apologizing to you for thinking badly of you before. But, now I get it; you may have changed your name, grew some muscles, and bought yourself some fierce contact lenses, but underneath it all, you’re still as full of yourself as you were back then.”

  He studied me, staring into my eyes.

  I swallowed hard, fearing I’d ensured, I’d be out of a job for offending him.

  “So, you still want me? Why didn’t just come out and say it? We could have scratched that itch twenty minutes ago,” he said, sneering at me like a vulture who’d found his prey.

  After a few moments of me struggling to formulate words and actually making them leave my mouth, E.J. took pity on me. “Well, you have my number. Use it, burn it or hang it up on your wall; it doesn’t matter to me. Have a good afternoon, Mrs. Jackson.” With that, he turned to walk out of the building.

  “What in the hell happened?” Felicia stepped out into the hallway.

  I shrugged my shoulders. “I have no idea. Things got out of control.”

  Folding her arms in front of her, Felicia used her infamous judging tone. “Well, whose fault is that? Girl, the man is a walking sin. Are you crazy? If you’d played it right, you could be living large. Did you forget how flirting works?”

  I sighed. “I’m not trying to flirt. He’s Edge’s dad. Not to mention, he’s also always been a jerk. Why in the world would I want to date him? I’m not trying to date. Like the movie says, I can do bad all by myself.”

  “You sure can,” Felicia said, making the sour puss face again. “And, you better get back to your class before Cantor pulls out the rest of his hair. Those kids can smell fear.”

  I rushed back to my room, anxious to get back to normal or whatever was normal for me these days. School had only been in session for three weeks and I felt like it had been a year since I had a day off. If my calendar hadn't said I'd only been back in town for less than 3 months, I’d swear on a stack of bibles, I’d been teaching in the United States for years. My husband Sam would laugh at me and how frazzled I’d become since he passed.

  When I was teaching in Spain, everything was working out beautifully for me. The children at the international school were kind and ever so eager to learn and to commiserate with an American teacher. It was even better that I happened to be a black American teacher. Many of my former students were minorities. They were military brats, anxious for a taste of home and I could provide it for them. Here, I was just another teacher working in a city school. It didn’t impress anyone one bit that I was a black woman. Not that it needed to, but I would have at least liked to see some excitement in the students’ eyes when I stepped in the door. Most of the reception I received wa
s ho-hum. No one cared. Least of all, little Edge didn’t care one bit. Kids in his income bracket weren’t impressed by much. They had it all. He, in particular, was always well-groomed and well-dressed like a kid in an upscale catalog.

  “Good, you’re back. Maybe now you can actually teach your students something. And, so you know, Edgecott didn’t give me a problem at all,” Principal Cantor said, rubbing the fact he thought he was a far better educator than I in my face. “Do you think you can handle it from here or shall I call another, more experienced teacher in here to help you?”