Mister Know It All: A Hero Club Novel

by Amélie S. Duncan

  “I’m not going to the party. Jasmine and I were supposed to go to a conference today.”

  “I’ll tell her,” he offered.

  “I will. Talk to you soon.”

  I went downstairs and texted my new assistant Jennifer to book a hotel and car for tomorrow morning. Then went into my place as Martin came inside. “I’m back. I showed Jasmine’s pictures to Willow, and she, in turn, showed some to Patrick Wells. You know the—”

  “Indie director and collector,” I said to him.

  He had taken a few of my photos from Cecile’s collection.

  “Well, Patrick said he loves Cecile’s early work but now thinks she photographs ‘too obvious,’ whatever that means. He loves the innocent sensualness Jasmine shows in her photos and thinks there is promise. He’s keen enough to commission a shoot. In fact, he’s desperate to add to his erotic collection that he lost in the fire last year.”

  “I haven’t fully discussed photos with Jasmine.”

  “Why not?” he asked.

  I shrugged.

  He groaned. “Cecile again? It wasn’t your fault. She was green and impulsive. Andre was wrong to get involved, but they are not the same. We can name a price if you can get a full shoot. Show me something.”

  “I have nothing for you. You wasted your time coming over.”

  “Come on, Ford. We both know you do. I’m not taking the picture away with me. Please show me.”

  I sighed and showed him the photo I took of Jasmine after she came.

  “Oh, my,” Martin said, beaming at the photo. “I can feel this picture in my gut. I want to keep staring, and I question how you were able to capture so much in her face. She’s emotive. I can see that she’s excited, emotional, scared . . . vulnerable. She’s eager and desperate to be loved.”

  “All that, Martin.” I mocked his artsy gab, but I thought the same.

  “You like that I’m captivated. You have more?”

  “I do, but I’m not sure.” I wasn’t sure I wanted Jasmine caught up in the art scene. It hadn’t worked out well for Cecile.

  “This is about Cecile then,” Martin said, picking the thought out of my brain.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” But I did let Martin see more of Jasmine, much to his delight. He held up a picture of her in Times Square.

  “This joy and enthusiasm can sell commercially, but I like the sensual angle better,” Martin said. “Please think about it. I’ve got to meet up with Anya, or I’ll be denied access to her party in the Hamptons next month.”

  Martin was always name-dropping and in a hurry to do something. I walked him out with the promise to consider talking to Jasmine about doing a photo session for me. That’s how it starts. Taking photos of Cecile had been our start. And it changed her.

  My phone beeped, and I checked to discover a message from Jasmine already in my voicemail.

  “Hi, Ford. Last night was really great. I know we didn’t . . . have sex. But I liked it a lot. Anyway, Graham said you had to go away? I understand. I’m going to the conference anyway because Werner may be a social policy lobbying connection outside of the Boston arena. Even if Randall is there. Call me when you land so I’ll know you arrived safely. Or earlier if you’re waiting at the airport or on the road if you’re driving. I’ll come out and talk so you won’t be alone.”

  I smiled, and that little spot in the center of my chest moved.

  I’ll come out and talk so you won’t be alone. This woman barely knew me, yet she knew about my struggle with true loneliness. Something I’m only just figuring out. She was so open to me, and I wanted to cherish that. So often, I found women showed me they didn’t need me. And Blair was right that I was already interested in Jasmine. Jasmine stayed on my mind constantly. I wanted to fuck her, sure, but I also wanted to hear anything and everything about her.

  My phone vibrated, and Cecile’s face appeared.

  I snorted. Now?

  My heart hammered as my eyes fixed to the screen. Surprisingly, I didn’t rush to answer. All I had wanted for months was for her to call. But now, after I left a message telling her I didn’t want to be together anymore, she calls.

  I pressed the answer button and listened.

  Static . . .

  “Hello?”

  Click.

  JASMINE

  Posthaste

  I wore a designer mauve scuba crepe V-neck dress on the train to Herald Square in Midtown. The Peabody Hotel wasn’t far, but I could feel the pain in my toes from my nude heels as I walked the few blocks to the entrance.

  I had only stepped inside the marble lobby when I spotted Randall Seager. At one time, just hearing his name had made my heartbeat flutter. Now I could only remember the sight of his pale buttocks plowing into Angelique on his mahogany desk. He had on a blue shirt with a red tie under his khaki sports coat. He’d shaven off his patchy beard and let his longish brown hair down, hanging above his broad shoulders. A few sycophants stood around him as he held court, hanging on his every word. They were waiting for him to impart some memorable quotes they could share as if he’d spoken especially to them. I know. I’d done it myself more than once.

  He spotted me, and his brown eyes moved over me with an interest I hadn’t seen in quite some time.

  “Sorry. I must speak to my assistant,” he announced.

  I bit my cheek as gazes followed him directly to me. Jealousy? Envy? I didn’t care. But I didn’t correct him either.

  He touched my arm, and I went stiff.

  “Don’t touch me,” I snapped.

  “Let’s not argue here. I see you’ve done some shopping. You look . . . different. But where is your laptop? I had hoped you’d take notes. My calendar is still out of whack. Didn’t you get my messages about syncing?”

  I jutted my chin. “That’s a job for your new assistant.”

  He lowered his brows. “I asked for your help. You shouldn’t be so hostile after all I’ve done for you.”

  “You gave me a teaching assistant job I worked my ass off to keep. I left.”

  He tutted. “Many students would’ve killed for your spot. I just need to know if I’m going to Notre Dame or Princeton for the lecture on religion and social policy. This is the paper I mentioned your assistance. If they have a large response, it could be something for your transcripts.”

  I clenched my jaw. More promises. “I have a backup of your calendar on my phone up to the time I quit, but after today, you must make other arrangements.”

  He grimaced. “You can send it to my email too, so I won’t get lost. Honestly, this is the least you could do since you didn’t provide proper notice. I’m upstairs. We can look at it before the lecture. You know, I’m really loving this new look.”

  I narrowed my gaze at him and crossed my arms. We’re never happening again.

  “Dr. Seager?” A stocky middle-aged man wearing almost identical clothing as Randall approached. Although, his tie was blue.

  “Dr. Werner. I’m glad you could fit this lecture between your packed schedule.”

  “Of course. I’m honored you invited me to join,” Dr. Werner said, stroking his goatee. His small green eyes scanned over me and lingered below my chin. “And you are?”

  “This is my assistant, Jasmine,” Randall said, and they shared a look between them, and Werner laughed.

  “Where do you find such beautiful assistants?”

  I narrowed my gaze at him. “I’m in the master’s sociology program. I came here because I was interested in your study on modern economics and the social construct of homelessness.”

  “And she reads.” He laughed and tilted his head. “You know, I can really use someone to help me with some of my work this weekend. I’m at the Waldorf Hotel.”

  His hand went to my back and dropped just above the curb of my buttocks. And just like that, all the admiration I had for his work evaporated. Never meet your heroes. Or work for them.

  I pushed his hand off and glared at him. “I’m previously
engaged.”

  His eyes widened. “Oh, now that was an accident. Surely you didn’t think I intended—”

  “I don’t care. Just keep your hands to yourself.”

  Unfortunately, Werner wasn’t the first to try me. It had been the primary reason I downplayed my appearance.

  Werner frowned. “I was merely giving you a compliment,” he scoffed. “Randall?”

  “We’re right in the middle of work. Apologies. If you’ll excuse us,” Randall said.

  I snorted. That’s all he’d say to him? There was no way I would work with Werner, or he’d agree to work with me now. I had no reason to stay and hurried toward the exit.

  Randall’s hand closed on my upper arm. “Wait, Jasmine. He’s a bit tipsy from lunch. I would have said something, but we’re not together anymore. I understand if you feel uncomfortable with the presentation, but I still need the calendar. Would you please be so kind as to fix it? It would only take a few minutes.”

  I pursed my lips. “A few minutes. That’s all.”

  I followed him to the elevator.

  “Randall?” A pretty blonde rushed up to us.

  “Angelique. I didn’t recognize you in clothes,” I said in a snarky tone. She had on a suit instead of just a bra this time. Their eyes fused intimately. There was some sort of bond I hadn’t considered. I couldn’t help but think of Cecile and Ford. But Randall and I weren’t on a break. She knew about me and slept with Randall anyway. And hadn’t Randall said they were no longer a thing? Lying scum.

  “I asked you to wait for me,” Randall muttered.

  She blushed. “I just wanted to check to see if you needed help? I thought you said you were no longer communicating with her?” She looked me up and down.

  “I thought you lived three thousand miles away. You knew we were together, but you came anyway. You didn’t think about my feelings. How does it feel not to know I was coming here?” I said in a harsh tone.

  “I’m sorry . . . we’re in love,” she stammered, gazing over at him.

  He cleared his throat. “This is not the time nor place for this conversation.”

  “That means he’s unwilling to tell me he’s in love with you. Sure, he’ll explain it away later, but that’s the truth,” I spat.

  “Jasmine, enough,” Randall barked. “I’m surprised at you. Now, we’re going upstairs to my room to get what I need to keep my life in order. Nothing is going to happen when we’re alone. You need not worry, Angelique.”

  “You won’t have to worry about me, but there are many co-eds at the college,” I told her.

  Randall’s face went puffy and red. He stormed over to the elevator and pressed the button. I slowly walked over and stood beside him.

  No doubt I had blown my chance on the Werner paper. Randall wasn’t trustworthy at all. So why the hell had I come? Because I needed to see if he cared.

  He obviously doesn’t.

  I followed him to his room and took out my phone. Tapping the calendar app, I connected to his port and used the mouse next to his computer to do the sync.

  “This should fix your problem.”

  Hands closed on my waist. “God, when you walked in, I thought I was the biggest fool ever. You’ve really transformed. You look beautiful.”

  I pushed his hands off. “Don’t touch me.”

  “And you’re acting different. If I didn’t know you, I’d say you’ve met someone else.”

  I lifted my chin. “That’s none of your concern anymore. Angelique is waiting.”

  He blew out his breath. “You’re emotional, and I understand that. I screwed up. I know. I didn’t mean to fuck Angelique in my office. I hadn’t even expected it to happen. She came on to me.”

  I scoffed. “You actually expect me to believe it was Angelique coming on to you?”

  He scrubbed his jaw. “Not all. Yes, Angelique and I have chemistry. I gave her a job because she spontaneously pawned everything she owned and moved to Boston to be closer to me.”

  “Why did I come here?” I said more for myself than him, but he answered anyway.

  “Because you’re brilliant, Jasmine.” He lowered his tone and placed his hands on my shoulders. “It was sex. When I was with her, I wasn’t your boyfriend. I was a man responding to her pheromones. It was beyond my control.”

  He was using his cheating as a teachable moment. More base-nature bullshit I’d heard before. But I wasn’t the wide-eyed twenty-year-old who hung on his every word anymore.

  My stomach lurched. “How can you say that when I just saw you with Angelique? Don’t you care about her feelings?”

  “Angelique and I are connected. But she struggles with keeping everything I need in order.”

  So, he wanted a better workhorse.

  I pushed his hands off my shoulders and crossed my arms. “I don’t want to be in a relationship, and I don’t want to work with you. Stop calling me and move on.”

  His eyes widened in surprise.

  Your slimy charm isn’t working anymore.

  “Oh, come now, Jasmine. I’ve apologized.” His lips twisted into a sardonic smile. “Honestly, what are you without me? Who will challenge and stimulate you intellectually? Who will listen to your rambles at two in the morning or help you with your papers and lectures—”

  “I do my own papers and lectures. Yours too, and the one you submitted for publishing recently. Hell, I did the one you’re presenting today. Who are you without me?”

  He guffawed. “You keep on believing that, but you’d never have the access or direction to publish if I hadn’t mentored you. You’ll need more than A’s and glowing recommendations to get into a doctorate program. I didn’t go for my Ph.D. until I was thirty. The way you ripped through my office shows you’re too emotional. You’re not ready for a doctorate.”

  “I reacted that way because I thought you loved me. One moment doesn’t define my entire academic career, which is top of my class. I don’t need to process or wait eight years for a doctorate when I can have everything I worked for now.”

  He sneered. “You think you’re ready? A couple of published articles and you think you’re hot shit, but really, you’re not. Even if you do manage to get a Ph.D., I doubt any college will hire you unless they’re going for a gimmick to gratify a quota. You’re not as great as you think you are. You exhaust every professor with your winded papers and exhaustive discussions. Fucking you was the only way I got any peace and quiet. And that wasn’t even enough to satisfy me. If you opened your eyes, you might have realized Angelique wasn’t the only one. Hell, even after I fucked her in front of your face, you still think you’re something. But what you are is pathetic.”

  He came out of his trance and stream of grotesque criticism and gazed at me.

  “Go on, Randall. Keep telling me what you really think.” My voice broke, and I sucked in my breath.

  A flash of alarm showed on his face before he changed it back into his usual smug superiority. Something I’d found attractive about him, but no longer blinded by lust, I could see the entitled prick he’d been all along.

  “I do think you’re pushing for more than you’re capable of,” he replied, standing his ground. Angelique wasn’t the only one he didn’t believe in, and knowing this now, there was no way in hell I’d ever consider working with him again. “Now, after a couple more years under my tutelage, you might be ready—”

  “I’m never working with you again.” I glowered at him.

  His nostrils flared. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re taking your job back. I don’t have time to train another assistant.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t work with someone who sees me as ‘pathetic.’”

  “If you leave, you’ll be just another slut who used her body to get ahead. We professors talk. Werner already guesses, and I’m sure he’d be more than happy to listen to your rambling in his bed.”

  I placed my hands on my hips. “You think I give a damn about your threat? Tell whoever you want to. You’ll be fire
d, and I doubt any other college would risk hiring you.”

  His menacing face was inches from mine. “Maybe so for a while, but other college administrations get over things quickly if money is involved. I’m still a big draw for books and lectures. One of the many things you failed to learn is life in academia is a long one. You might succeed, but all the scholars and professors will consider you a whore. They definitely won’t want you on their academic papers or put in a recommendation.”

  “You’re overplaying your hand. Your threats are empty.” I grit my teeth.

  He clutched my face and pressed his thumb into my lip. “Oh, I will. I’ll give you a thorough recommendation on giving head. At that, you’re pretty good. Some professors may offer you scraps to get you to suck their cocks, but academically, you’ll be ruined before you even start.”

  I slapped his face. “Don’t you ever lay your hands on me again, or you’ll have more than academia to worry about. Your threats are falling on deaf ears too. You do any of that, you’ll go down.”

  He rubbed his red jaw. “That’s the point, idiot. We both go down. If I have nothing to lose, damn right, I’ll take you down with me. Now, grow up. I’ll write your recommendations and say you’re a stellar find. Hell, I’ll give you until August to get over your hurt feelings. After that, I expect you to return to Boston and your job. And next time I call or ask for something, I expect an answer, posthaste.”

  My hand pressed the space over my heart. It felt rubbed raw by his words as if scrubbed with a wire pad. Randall never cared about or loved me.

  “Do your own work. Disappoint whoever is foolish enough to have sex with you in the future. Just stay the hell away from me.”

  I stormed out and took the stairs, running until I reached the sidewalk. There I sucked in air and braced myself for tears to come, but nothing came. The pain was there, surely, but no tears. He’d been exceptionally cruel. How many times had he cheated on me, and I’d ignored it?

  I took out my phone to call Tam when it vibrated in my hand. “Hello, Jasmine.” Ford’s rich baritone filled my ears.