The Player Next Door: A Novel

by K. A. Tucker

  I let my forehead fall to the desk, debating whether I should march down to the office now and face Wendy or hightail it out of here to face her next week. That’s how Becca finds me.

  “Rough day?” she chirps, her bags slung over her shoulder, her keys dangling from her finger. No one lingers long on Fridays around here.

  “I’m not sure yet,” I answer cryptically. It’s not like Penelope blindsided Wendy with Shane’s and my “indiscretion.” Suddenly I find myself thanking Bott for reporting her suspicions to our boss. It gives Wendy an opportunity to arm herself ahead of time, to shut down Penelope’s complaints.

  But will she? She certainly didn’t give me the heads-up about this discussion.

  I tell Becca about Penelope’s meeting with Wendy.

  “Oh.” She nods vigorously, as if she gets it. Does she, though? Has Becca done anything as a teacher that could be construed as morally questionable? “Don’t worry too much about Penelope. She’s a thorn but Wendy will handle her.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  Her smile is sympathetic. “You spending time with your sexy neighbor this weekend?”

  “Yeah. Until he goes to work on Sunday morning.”

  “We should do something on Sunday, then. We haven’t hung out in forever.”

  “I know, right?” My guilt creeps in. I’ve been so blissfully consumed by all things Shane these past few weeks, I’ve let my budding friendship fall by the wayside. “Why don’t we do brunch on Sunday?”

  “Perfect. Text me with a time and location.”

  Becca leaves me to stack the messy pile of math tests. After waffling for another minute, I decide I’d rather be in ignorant bliss this weekend as far as Penelope is concerned, and so I stuff everything in my satchel and grab my jacket, intent on escaping before I cross paths with Wendy.

  Unfortunately, I’m not fast enough. I hear the worn heels clicking a few seconds before knuckles rap at my door.

  “Knock, knock.” Wendy stands in my doorway, wearing that same troubled smile she wore when she first approached me about my relationship with Shane.

  I sigh. There’s no point playing dumb. “I heard Penelope came to see you?”

  “Yes.” Her lips are pursed as she shuts the door. “And we might have a problem.”

  “She can’t fucking do that!” Shane explodes.

  “Submit a formal complaint to the school board? Yeah, actually, she can.” What happens next is in the air. It could be dismissed as nothing more than a parent’s grievance. It could end up a mar on my employment file. Two months into my career, that file is too new to be collecting these sorts of red marks, but it’s not the end of the world.

  Or I could lose my job.

  “But it’s not a rule!” Shane picks up his dish rag, only to toss into the kitchen sink.

  “Maybe not, but my moral conduct could be an issue. Especially when you throw in our families’ history.”

  Wendy was candid about her meeting with Penelope. In a nutshell, Penelope questioned my moral character, given I “so quickly” moved in on a student’s father with no regard for her son’s well-being. She had the gall to suggest that me buying the house beside Shane wasn’t a coincidence and poked at my mental stability, pursuing a man it was well known I was infatuated with years ago—I’d all but admitted it the night of the parent orientation. But Penelope made it sound like there were serious concerns that I might be a stalker.

  The latter accusation, Wendy squashed quickly, highlighting how it could be construed as defamatory. But the question of moral character was not so easy to sidestep. Wendy informed her that she has had a discussion with me on the matter so I am aware of the conflict and have chosen to continue pursuing my relationship. She did make the argument on my behalf that so far, we’ve kept our relationship private and quiet, and it doesn’t seem to have had a negative effect on Cody at all.

  Still, Penelope insisted that, as the principal of Polson Falls Elementary, Wendy is obligated to fire me. Wendy countered, saying this wasn’t grounds for dismissal. That’s when Penelope threatened to go above her.

  My fists were clenched with rage, my insides burning with worry and fear as Wendy detailed their conversation.

  “This is bullshit,” Shane mutters. “Who cares that we’re together?”

  “Some parents won’t care.” Some will think there are far bigger issues than their child’s teacher’s sex life. Or they’ll hear our backstory and think, “Okay, I get it. They have a history. Ms. Reed isn’t using parent-teacher night as a speed-dating service.” “But there are parents who will agree with her and will be up in arms over this,” I say. Likely a few teachers too. And I know firsthand how noisy and poisonous Penelope can be when she’s on a mission to defame someone. I’ve lived through her wrath once. She may have no grounds for demanding my dismissal, but by the time she’s done with me, I’ll probably want to quit.

  Shane paces around his kitchen, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t think she was being serious about this.”

  My mouth gapes. “Wait, you knew she was going to push for Wendy to fire me and you didn’t warn me?” My tone is full of accusation.

  “She flies off the handle when she’s angry and says all kinds of shit she doesn’t mean.”

  “But she told you she was going to go after my job that night we picked up Cody?” It’s been weeks.

  Shane sighs and shakes his head. “No. We got into it the other night again, over the phone. I figured she’d let it go.”

  “Well, clearly not because she’s going after my job. And even if she doesn’t get me fired, she’ll ruin my reputation again. You of all people should know how big a deal that is to me!” I spent my childhood chased by glances and whispers that she bred and fed until the glances became stares and the whispers became laughter and jeers. I was the punch line in so many cruel jokes, thanks to her.

  “Oh my God. By the time she’s done with me, I’ll be Dottie Reed two point O.” Now I’m the one pacing his kitchen.

  “No one’s going to buy that.”

  “I can already hear it. I’ll be known as the Daddy Fucker or something equally trashy!”

  Shane lassos me into his chest with his arms. “Take it easy, Scar. You’re getting hysterical.”

  “Hysterical?” I hiss. “Your psychotic, Red Devil baby mama is threatening my career and my reputation, and you’re calling me hysterical?”

  “I didn’t mean it that way.” He groans. “I wish that word didn’t exist.”

  “What way did you mean it, then?” I don’t know when this became a fight between us, but I sense the air shifting quickly.

  He must sense it too. “I don’t know, but I have a feeling no matter what I say, it’ll be wrong.”

  “That’s because your career and reputation isn’t being threatened. As usual, the man is innocent in all of this, isn’t he?”

  He releases me and lifts his hands in surrender. “Hey, I haven’t done anything wrong here.”

  “Neither have I, but I’m the one about to have my life blown up.”

  “What do you want me to do, Scar? What am I supposed to do? Tell me how I can fix this?”

  “I don’t know.” I wince at the throb in my temple. It was a dull ache when I said goodbye to Wendy. Now it pulsates. “I’m going home. I’ve got a headache.” And I suspect nothing good will come of letting this conversation continue while our tempers are flaring.

  Shane’s brow furrows, but he merely nods.

  I’m halfway to the front door when he hollers, “Do you still want me to come over later?”

  “I don’t know. We’ll see if I’m still hysterical.” So much for our sordid night together.

  I’m not sure who I should be angry with right now.

  Penelope, for proving that some people don’t change.

  My mother, whose selfishness still haunts me all these years later.

  Shane, for so thoroughly pursuing me to dive into this relationship, knowing the la
nd mines we’d have to navigate around.

  Or me, for being stupid enough to give my heart to Shane Fucking Beckett again.

  While some women don’t like to throw derogatory names at other women, Justine has no qualms.

  “What a cunt,” Justine declares over my phone’s speaker, her crass announcement—and her favorite insult, that she adopted after spending a semester working with an exchange student from London—competing with the noisy rattle of my bathroom ceiling fan.

  “She’s definitely something.” I poke at the bath faucet with my big toe. It’s been four hours since I left Shane scowling in his kitchen. I heard his truck pull out as I was popping Advil and lying down to attempt sleep that didn’t come. Finally, I gave up and drew myself a bath, hoping the lavender bath bomb might soothe my aches and my woes.

  “She won’t win this, will she?”

  “Wendy doesn’t think so. I mean, it’s not like I’m walking around Shane’s kitchen in my underwear when Cody’s there.”

  “Has he heard you two fucking?”

  “No. I’ve never slept over when Cody’s there. And we’re super careful around him. I think I’ve held Shane’s hand once.”

  “So then that psycho can stuff her piehole. She has no argument.”

  “We’ll see. They post formal complaint resolutions on the school board website. I went on it to see what kinds of cases were listed. They’re all DUIs and thefts. Real crimes.” My only crime is stupidity. Did I really believe Penelope would take my relationship with Shane lying down?

  “See? You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

  “Maybe you’re right.” My voice doesn’t hold much hope. If there’s anyone who can spin a question of moral character—gray area, at best—into a crime, it’d be Penelope.

  I don’t want to lose my job. I definitely don’t want to spend the next however many years with my reputation trashed.

  But am I going to have to give up Shane to keep those things I’ve worked so hard for and protected? It’s a dark thought that reared itself while I was lying in bed, toiling over solutions. I immediately dismissed it as a viable option, but it’s still there, lingering, as if my brain knows something my heart doesn’t yet want to face:

  Maybe I’ll have to choose.

  Maybe I can’t have it all.

  Another grim thought has emerged along with it—what if Shane decides he doesn’t want these complications in his life? What if he’s the one who pulls the plug on us?

  He’s done it once before, and the “complications” were barely that by comparison.

  I push that gut-wrenching worry aside. “What are you doing tonight?”

  “Binge-watching The Last Kingdom. This guy’s so hot. I hate Bill’s job and I miss you.”

  I smile despite her bitter tone. Apparently, Bill’s job description includes frequent booze-laden cocktail hours with clients and colleagues. Justine has always hated it, and they’re always fighting about him coming home tipsy to fall asleep on the couch. It’s good to see some things haven’t changed since I left. “Anything else exciting going on this weekend?”

  “I have a trade show, and Bill’s daughter has a piano recital tomorrow, so he’s heading to Boston overnight. So, what did Shane say about all this bullshit?”

  I sigh. “Penelope told him she was going to do it but he didn’t take her seriously. He doesn’t know what to do.”

  “Ugh. How about don’t stick your big dumb dick in her all those years ago, buddy,” she chirps, her accent especially thick with her irritation.

  “If only we had a time machine.” Though, that would mean Cody wouldn’t exist and, after teaching him for more than two months and spending time with him outside of school, I could never wish for that. He’s a good kid.

  Too bad his mother couldn’t simply vanish.

  But that is wishful thinking that will never come to pass. As long as I’m with Shane, Penelope will be a part of my life, for better and for worse.

  So far, it’s definitely the latter.

  “Scarlet!” Shane calls out, followed by the sound of feet climbing my stairs.

  “I’m in the bath.” My heart does its routine pitter-patter—he has clearly taken the liberty to use the spare key I hid on my porch. I’m beginning to think I might as well just give it to him.

  Shane appears from around the corner, a paper bag bearing the logo from the local Mediterranean restaurant in his grasp, the key dangling from his finger. “I didn’t want to knock and drag you out of bed if you still had a headache. And then I heard voices.”

  “I’m just talking to Justine.” Exactly how much did he hear?

  My eyes rake over his pleasing form. He’s still in the track pants and black Dri-FIT shirt that hugs his torso and shows off his immaculate body. No one has ever made casual clothes look as sexy as this man does.

  And now he’s leaning against the door frame, shamelessly perusing my naked body in the tub.

  Don’t get sucked into this thirst trap, Scarlet.

  To Justine, I say, “Gotta go. Shane just magically appeared.”

  “Hey, Scarlet’s sexy neighbor!” Justine’s playful voice carries.

  He smirks. “Hey, girl.”

  “When’s that auction of yours?”

  “Beginning of December.” His smirk grows wider. “Why? You want to come bid on my big, dumb dick?”

  So he did hear that.

  As expected, Justine is unfazed. “Nah, you’re too pricey, pretty boy. I want someone cheap so I can make Bill jealous.”

  I shake my head. She’s kidding, of course. I hope. “Talk to you later.”

  Shane sets the brown bag on my dresser and then steps into the bathroom to sit on the edge of the tub, leaning his back against the tile wall.

  My nipples pebble under his leisurely gaze, but he doesn’t make a move to touch me.

  “You still mad at me?” he finally asks.

  “I wasn’t mad at you. I was just … mad.” I flick at the water’s surface.

  He studies a small cut on his index finger. “I went to talk to Penelope.”

  So, that’s where he’s been for the past four hours. “And?”

  “And I told her that what she’s doing is wrong and harmful. She’s going to stir up old dirt about her dad and that will bother Cody way more than kids teasing him about us being together.”

  Peter Rhodes’s affair with my mother and his ejection from the mayor’s position was certainly newsworthy. While his reputation seemed to have recovered since, I doubt he could step into a restaurant for a few years after without earning a raised eyebrow and a few whispers. But people moved on. The only one who hasn’t seems to be Penelope. “What’d she say?”

  He makes an unintelligible sound. “She said she doesn’t want to see Cody get hurt by her father like she was when she was young.”

  “That would be a valid concern, if you were married and having an affair. And she’s not the only one who was hurt by that.”

  “Yeah, I pointed that out too. I think she knows it.” He smirks. “Somewhere very deep down inside.”

  I snort. “Are you sure you’re not giving her too much credit?”

  “Maybe. But I have to. It’s the only way I can deal with her, and I have to be able to deal with her. No matter what else she is, she’s my son’s mother. She isn’t going to just disappear.”

  He’s right, of course. “Thank God one of you is mature.”

  His gaze settles on my tiny bathroom’s ceiling, and the peeling paint. “Yeah, well, she said she’ll consider not going through with this formal complaint bullshit.”

  Even though it’s not a guarantee, I feel lighter. “I didn’t think she could be reasoned with.”

  “She can be when she’s not out for blood.”

  “With you, maybe.”

  He grunts, but he doesn’t disagree. “I’m sure it’ll cost me my soul at some point.”

  I sigh with relief. This entire ordeal has been draining. “I’m guessing it wasn�
��t a fun conversation, so thank you for going over there and dealing with her.”

  “It wasn’t so bad. I got to see Cody. Apparently, he’s been chattering nonstop about you at home. He told her that he really likes you.” He smiles wryly. “He figured out that she’s not happy about us dating. I think he was trying to make her okay with the idea, but that actually might have been what set her off.”

  “That’s why she was hell-bent on blowing up my life? Because her son told her he likes his dad’s girlfriend?” My heart pangs for the poor boy who feels he needs to pacify his mother’s insecurities. No child should have to do that. “She’d rather him hate me?”

  “I don’t know. But she said she’s afraid he’ll end up liking you more than he likes her.”

  I pinch the bridge of my nose. Travis is right; she is batshit crazy. “I hope you suggested therapy.”

  “Yeah, I like my balls intact, thanks.”

  “Hmm. So do I.” Now that the immediate threat of Penelope has faded, I’m acutely aware of my exposed body and Shane’s wandering eyes.

  With a grin, he pulls off his socks.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” I watch with interest as Shane stands and, reaching over his head, yanks off his shirt.

  “Getting naked.”

  “Yes, I see that.” I stare with longing at the ridge of ab muscles and the deep cut of his pelvis. “The question is, why?”

  “Do I really need to spell it out?” He shucks his pants and underwear in one move, and his impressive erection springs free.

  My mouth goes dry at the promise of it. “No, that’s pretty clear. But I just got in here, like, five minutes ago. And I used a Lush bath bomb.”

  He frowns curiously. “So?”

  “Do you have any idea how much those cost? I’m not wasting it—ah! What are you doing?” I shriek as Shane climbs into the tub, forcing my legs up and apart to make room for his massive frame. “There isn’t enough room for us in here.” There’s barely enough room for me as it is. I howl with laughter as he ignores my complaints, shifting and jostling my body until we’re somehow both packed in and water is splashing onto my old tile floor. In the end, I’m straddling his lap with my legs awkwardly slung over the edges.