by Lucy Lambert
I hadn't asked her here. She didn't need to be here.
I saw Stockwell hovering behind her, peering in through the doorway, his inquisitive, rodent-like eyes drinking in every detail.
"I'm sorry, who are you?" Charlie asked. She stood up from the table, gathering her notes and piling them into her briefcase. She wanted out, I could tell.
Whatever charm I'd managed to cast over her had been broken by Alisha's arrival.
"Really, Alex, you haven't told her about me?" Alisha said. Her eyes glinted with malevolent mischief.
And she called me Alex. She never called me Alex in front of other people, just between the two of us. She's jealous, I knew.
Normally I found a little jealousy in a woman sexy. But here, with Alisha, it made her ugly. It made me think of why I'd ever been with her in the first place, and why I'd never seen her in this light before.
"She's an employee of mine," I said. I wasn't going to let her play that game with me. No one played games with me.
Alisha's expression took on a hurt caste. She looked away from me and at Charlie. "I'm Alex's personal executive assistant. I help him out in all matters, business... and personal."
She set down the manila folder on the table between us. Her fingers slid until they touched my knuckles. I recoiled.
Charlie's cheeks reddened, her eyes moving between the two of us. She snatched her briefcase up. "I'm sure you need all the help you can get from here right now. Don't be late for the next class."
She sidled around the table and then bee lined for the door, careful to avoid brushing shoulders with Alisha on the way out.
"Charlie..." I said, but she didn't even turn around. And that stung.
Her footfalls echoed down the hallway for a few moments before fading entirely. Stockwell stood there for another few heartbeats, ringing his hands and considering us like he might consider a couple of coiled rattlesnakes blocking his path. I didn't blame him, not right then at least.
Then he, too, beat a hasty retreat, leaving Alisha and I alone in the teacher's lounge.
A room which she eyed with plain disgust on her face. "You really didn't tell her about me, about us?" She tried to put her hands on my shoulders but I grabbed her wrists and pushed her away. She smiled and the hatred I felt inside for her turned into a blast furnace.
"There is no us, Alisha. There never will be, either."
I knew what this was. She’d been fine with our previous arrangement, but seeing Charlie changed her. Made her want something different, something she’d never wanted before.
It was envy, I knew, at the heart of it. She couldn’t have me so she didn’t want anyone else to, either.
"But we're so right for each other, Alex..." she smiled, curving her lips in that seductive smile that used to make my heart pound with desire.
Even the hint of her perfume that I got right then, usually so alluring, repelled me.
How could I have ever wanted her? I kept asking myself. "No, we're not. You're not right for me. And I also think you're no longer right for my company, either. Not after a stunt like this."
"What are you saying?" she said.
I kept my eyes fixed on hers, kept my hands at my sides. I wanted this to be unequivocal. No room for alternate interpretations. "You're fired, Alisha. Don't come back to the office, or security will escort you out. I will have your things mailed to you."
Inside, I braced myself for the outrage, the anger, the begging and the pleading that I knew would follow that anger.
And some of the color did drain from Alisha's lovely, marble-statue-like features. But then she smiled. "No, I'm not."
I blinked, then blinked again like something had come over my eyes. "No more games. You're done working for me. Now, get out of my face."
"We're far from done. You can't fire me, Alex. Not with what I have over you."
I crossed my arms and leaned back against the ledge of the little kitchenette countertop. More games. It's always more games with her. "You have nothing."
She laughed. The sound cut into me. "I have plenty of recordings of the two of us together. As well as a few of you with other women. Imagine what would happen if all that stuff came out right now, right when you're trying to fix your image? I wonder how Little Miss Morgan would feel? I'll make sure she gets personal copies of every last one. Maybe I'll ruin her, too. Say that this audio recording or that one is the two of you together. Who's to say it isn't?"
She slunk toward me, put her hands on my chest. She sucked her bottom lip in between her teeth and then let it slide out slowly, her eyes admiring my face. She whispered, "We could make another recording, right here and now. How about it?"
I grabbed her wrists and pushed her away again. She laughed. Then she turned towards the door and walked over to it. Once there, she looked back at me over her shoulder.
"See? You can't fire me, Alex. I'll see you at the office tomorrow. Charlie really is cute, by the way. Different from your usual type. So nice, so dedicated to her job."
"Get out," I said through clenched teeth. My hands shook at my sides. My heart pumped fire instead of blood through my veins. I was seeing red.
Then Alisha left.
Chapter 14
CHARLIE
I'm not jealous. I'm not jealous. I'm not jealous... The words kept echoing in my head, and I kept letting them. I figured if I told myself that enough I would actually believe it.
I couldn't believe I'd let myself start to relax around Alex so much. He actually had me smiling and laughing towards the end there. I'd been thinking about what a nice face he had, what a handsome smile.
And then she'd come in. All legs and expensive perfume. She practically dripped sex. Of course she'd be Alex's assistant.
I hated her. I knew that I shouldn't, that it didn't matter, but it was an instinctual hate.
But it was good, too. It gave me a reason to not fall into Alex's trap any further, not let myself get pulled in by those good looks, the charm. So I guess I ought to be thanking Alisha instead of hoping that she would just crawl away and die somewhere.
But I couldn't, though.
I reached room 137 again just as the prior class let out and then I stood there, smiling at all the students and saying hi to them even though I burned up on the inside.
I pushed all my feelings down into a tight little ball at the pit of my stomach and went and sat at the desk. I even remembered to pull my copy of King Lear out.
It wasn't until my hand touched my phone that I realized I hadn't thought about it at all during my conversation with Alex. Brady had never once entered my mind.
I looked down at my phone, cradled in my lap, with something like wonder on my face.
"Hey, uh, Miss Morgan...?" Joe said, he kept glancing at the door, watching for his friends.
"Your paper, yes," I said, my thoughts rebounding back like a rubber band, "It's definitely a very good start. You just need to work on your thesis statement. And then think long and hard about a creative way to end the paper. I have a few notes on there for you."
I handed him the essay. He started looking at it right away, eyes poring over the ink on the page, a small frown of concentration forming on his brow. "Thanks..." he started.
Then his friends came in, announced by their raucous laughter. Joe folded the essay and shoved it into his notebook.
"Why you always here so early?" Tyrell asked, looking between us.
Panic flashed across Joe's face before he could hide it. I wished he would let himself be brave, let himself confront that fear that his friends might not accept him if he let on that he cared about school.
Look who's talking, I thought, feeling the irony. How could I urge him to confront his fears and anxieties if I couldn't even do that myself?
I shoved my phone into my briefcase before the guilt could overwhelm me.
Alex stepped inside only seconds before the bell went. I glanced at him, then did a double take. His usual calm confidence looked strained, the s
mile a little forced.
Hadn't he been happy to see his sexy, long-legged assistant? Maybe not. And before I could stop it, a tiny glimmer of hope flickered inside me.
"Hey, we going to leave early again?" Joe said when he saw Alex. Most of the class laughed.
Alex looked at me, then out at the class. "No. Not unless Miss Morgan lets you out early, that is. That was a onetime deal."
The disappointment was palpable.
I took out my notes and started writing on the chalkboard. "Today I'd like to talk with you guys about good intentions. What are they? And why is the road to hell supposed to be paved with them? I think dear old King Lear can help us answer those questions. Get out your books."
More groans followed that order, and as I scrawled across the chalkboard I could hear the clatter and rasp of books being dropped on desks and subsequently opened.
Alex stood near the door, leaned casually against the frame. I caught him from the corner of my eye and couldn't help smiling when I thought of earlier, telling him he'd gotten chalk dust all over his blazer.
Then he saw me, his eye catching mine. He smiled, just a little. The heat started in my cheeks.
I pushed it away savagely, reminding myself about Alisha and what the two of them probably did together.
Alexander Crossley was not the man for me. He was the farthest thing from it. The sooner I could force that through his stubborn head the better it would be for both of us.
"So you can see," I said, finishing my scrawl across the chalkboard, "How even the best intentions can lead to tragedy and other unforeseen consequences."
My wrist ached from all the writing. But it was a good ache. An ache that signified a job well done. I turned away from the chalkboard to look out over my class.
My eyes skipped over Alex, who'd been curiously quiet and introspective for the last 45 minutes. I made sure I didn't linger on him.
"Guys, come on. I'm sure whatever you're talking about can wait for a few more minutes. And if you pay attention to what I've written on the chalkboard it will help you on your next test," I said to a group of three guys, including Joe, who sat at the back of the room huddled around a phone.
I'd learned long ago that yelling at them, threatening them with being sent to the vice principal, that sort of thing, it didn't work on them.
I glanced at the clock. Just a few minutes left. Probably a solid thirty seconds before they all became too restless to listen.
"Perhaps Mr. Crossley has a few words he might like to add?" I said, remembering that once more we hadn't gotten to going over my class notes so that he could come up with something ahead of time.
He strode over to the middle in front of the whole class, one hand stuck into a pocket.
"Intention doesn't matter. Not at all," he started, ignoring my frown. I also noticed how the class paid attention to him. Especially the guys. There was something about Alex, some natural leader quality or charisma that drew people to him.
"Care to explain?" I said. I crossed my arms.
"Intention doesn't matter because it's nothing. A feeling. What matters is that you actually go and do something. Take action. You can intend to write a novel, to play pro football, to ask that pretty girl out..." here his eyes strayed over to me so quickly and then away again I wasn't even certain it had happened, "But if you don't try and do anything to achieve those intentions you might as well have not had them in the first place."
"I think we've had enough words of wisdom for one day," I said. The class went into full exit mode, the halls outside already filling with footsteps, squeaky shoes, and conversation.
I waited for everyone to leave until only Alex and I remained. "Spoken like a true cynic."
He grabbed a chair and sat on it backwards, his forearms resting on the top of the backrest, "No, spoken from experience. You can let these kids dream all they want, but you also have to let them know that dreams don't become reality unless you go out and take it for yourself."
As was becoming all too usual, I could feel the weight of his eyes on me. That awareness of his presence rippled through me again.
That casual smile of his almost made me forget about his personal assistant, almost.
"For these... students, letting them know they can dream about more is a good start." I didn't like calling them kids. Many of them hadn't been kids for a long time.
"Let's talk about it more on the drive back. I'll give you a lift, come on," he said, pushing up from the chair. The legs squeaked across the linoleum.
Excited desire pulsed in my stomach, sending tingly lines out through the rest of my body. I almost said yes, too. But I couldn't get the image of Alisha's beautiful legs striding around out of my head.
I wanted to say yes, to let him walk me through the halls out to that shiny car of his. I bet he would have even opened the door for me. And I liked talking to him, too. I just knew we could have a great conversation about this, and about many other things.
But I couldn't. Because Alisha reminded me that Alex and I moved in completely different circles. No overlapping of the Venn diagrams of our lives occurred between us.
I hated her so much, even though I knew I shouldn't.
"No thanks," I said, gathering up my Oxford Lear and putting my notes into my briefcase.
"Your car isn't here today, remember?" Alex said.
"I'll take the bus," I replied. It would take three times as long to get home, but if I could get a seat I could start going over my notes for tomorrow's classes.
I didn't like having to leave Rufus alone for that much longer, but he was a good dog. And I knew this was the right thing to do. Rufus would understand. He always did.
"You're being ridiculous," he said, trying on another of those charming smiles.
More hot excitement dripped from the bottom of my heart at the idea of sitting so close to him again, but I fought it off. No, Alisha was a blessing in disguise. She reminded me that Alex and I had nothing in common but these two weeks together.
It didn't matter how good the conversation, and whatever else happened, could have been.
I still hated her, though. Hated her guts. But that was beside the point.
"I'll see you tomorrow. Here, at school. Not at the door to my apartment, understand?" I said, staring into the icy blue of his eyes so that he could see my seriousness.
For a few moments, our eyes locked together so hard that I thought might close the distance between us and kiss me.
For a few moments there, I was okay with that. Yearned for it, even.
Maybe he sensed that, though. Maybe that was why he didn't. "Fine. But I'm walking you to the bus stop. You can't say no."
"I can, actually..." I started, "But I won't." I thought that I should, though. Nip this whole thing in the bud.
We started on our way. For a while there my shoulders prickled, waiting for the weight of his arm to rest across them. My palm prickled, too, while I wondered if he might try to hold my hand. He did neither.
It drove me crazy. And what drove me crazier was that I knew that he knew, and that it was probably exactly what he wanted.
Outside, the first tendrils of cool fall air curled around us, dampening the smell of the exhaust from the school buses and cars.
We reached the city bus stop and I realized that I wanted him to stay, to keep me company while I waited for the bus.
"I should get back to my car. It looks like the lot's turned into a war zone back there."
"You should," I said, my invitation for him to hang around a little longer dying before it could reach my lips.
"I got a message from my PR department. Tomorrow is the first day some press will be at the school for photos and maybe an interview or two," he said.
"Great," I said, rolling my eyes.
"I wanted you to have a head's up," he replied. He looked at me a moment longer and then left.
I almost missed my bus watching him walk away. I didn't hear the hiss of the pneumatic brakes, or the cla
tter of the door opening. A young woman in a long coat jostled me on her way into the bus and that brought me back to reality.
"Men are always trouble," Ash said.
She stood on the lawn of my apartment building, watching me walk Rufus back and forth at the end of his lead.
The leaves on the maples around the property had begun turning, their edges changing from a lush green to a rusty orange. The grass was a bit yellow.
You could smell fall in the air, that sharp and crisp scent that came with the cold.
"You know, that sounds suspiciously close to agreeing with my point of view," I said. Rufus pushed his snout into a patch of dandelions and snuffled happily.
"You didn't let me finish," she continued, "Men are always trouble. Some men are worth the trouble."
"Refresh my memory, Ash, you've been divorced how many times now?"
Ash stuffed her hands into her pockets where I couldn't see her fingers fidgeting. She'd quit smoking a couple years ago, but muscle memory doesn't forget. It was a little tick she had when she was kind of annoyed, kind of amused.
It was a mood she usually only had around me.
"Yeah, and they were both worth the trouble. For a while at least. But it's about the journey, you know, and not the end."
I couldn't stop thinking about my class on intentions today. Intentions were all about the end of something. The goal, you might say. I'd certainly never intended for things to end the way they had with Brady.
It seemed that I couldn't get away from intentions, mine or other people's.
Mr. Stockwell wanted me to impress Alex. I wanted to concentrate on teaching. Alex wanted... well, he wanted me.
"You should take me for an example," Ash said, smiling at me, "I know things were good with you and Brady while it lasted. But now it's over. Time to stop filling up at the self-service pump at the pity station and get back on the highway, if you get me."
I started wishing that Rufus would hurry up with his business so that I could get back upstairs. I could tell Ash I was busy with some school stuff, or with trying to figure out how to deal with the press coming to the school tomorrow.