Mister Know It All: A Hero Club Novel

by Amélie S. Duncan

  My foot stumbled forward, and a hand reached out to balance me. The doorman.

  “Excuse me, miss.” He moved around me to wheel a bag through the open doors of the hotel.

  “Ford? Hi… um. One sec.” I walked back inside the hotel and moved to a corner of the lobby. My eyes searched the room to see if Randall was around, but he wasn’t. Most of the attendees had left for the start of the conference.

  “Are you on board?” I asked.

  “No. I decided to leave tomorrow morning. I called to let you know I’m on my way.”

  “Please don’t come. I’m leaving. Randall was . . . he . . . It was a bad idea to come here.” My voice choked.

  “Did he hurt you?” There was alarm in his voice.

  “No. He was horrible. He told me clearly that he’d never believed in me or cared about me. I’m going… I think I want to leave New York City. This was a bad idea. Maybe I’ll go visit Aunt Lila in Florida, though I have no idea what I could do there. Or maybe I’ll go back to Boston.” See Tam and figure out what to do about the rest of my career and life. “I don’t know. Actually, I don’t know where to go. I can’t escape when I don’t know what to do. I just don’t want to be alone.”

  “How about you come over?”

  “What? No. I don’t think I’d be good company.”

  “I don’t care. I want you with me. I’m asking as a friend.”

  I touched my hot neck. “But . . .” I couldn’t think of a reason to stay away.

  “Come spend the evening with me. We can watch The Mandalorian or any movie or television show you want. If you don’t want to do that, you can read, but just come. I don’t want you alone. See you soon.”

  There were a million reasons that going over to see Ford feeling the way I did was a bad idea. But I didn’t want to spend the evening alone, cursing myself for showing up to see Randall or hearing his harsh takedown repeating in my head. I’d never realized how desperate and cruel he could be.

  Fucking you was the only way I got any peace and quiet. And that wasn’t even enough to satisfy me. Even after I fucked someone in front of your face, you still think you’re something. But what you really are is pathetic.

  My heart muscles squeezed together. Pathetic? I did everything to please him, and in the end, he thought I was pathetic. And he wanted to use me and hold my career ambitions over my head to get it. Had I compromised myself so much I didn’t see it? How had I not seen what he really thought of me? All the scholars and professors will consider you a whore. I sucked back a sob. What the hell was I supposed to do with my life now?

  Being cheated on was one thing, but losing your self-respect and being seen as nothing but an unimpressive fraud stung. And that was the problem with words. They stayed with me. I can’t unhear his cruelty. I couldn’t unsee his loathing.

  How had I been so blind?

  I walked to the curb and held up my hand toward the traffic. Perhaps being with Ford tonight was stupid, but he’d promised a movie and wine. And right now, that was what my lamenting soul needed. I needed my friend.

  JASMINE

  What’s your passion?

  I remained stuck in the back of the cab, looking out the window at New York City’s Saturday afternoon bumper-to-bumper traffic to Ford’s home in the village. After debating for a while, I finally called Tam.

  “Baaah.”

  “Tam?”

  “Baaah. Baaah. Baaah.”

  Should I hang up and try later?

  “Tam. NO cells!”

  Now that came through clearly. The sound of shuffling, music, and a door closing, then Tam finally spoke. “Sorry. The goat refused to move from my back, and I just got yelled at for leaving my cell phone on. Otherwise, it’s my Saturday.”

  I laughed. “I thought the goats were there to help you relax.”

  “They are attracted to stress, and I’m full of it. So, to what do I owe this call? You’ve been avoiding me, admit it.”

  “I have,” I croaked. “I was afraid you’d be upset if I still wanted Ford.”

  “You’re my best friend, and I love you. I told you my honest feeling. That won’t change anything else. You can still talk to me.”

  “I love you too. I just—”

  “Can’t quit him. I get it,” she said. “But why do you sound stuffy? Are you sick?”

  “I’m upset. I went to the Werner conference. Randall threatened me, and I slapped him—”

  “Wait. Slow down and breathe.”

  I told Tam everything up to the phone call.

  “Bar brawls, finger fucks, and slaps? I disappear, and your life goes nuclear. Randall’s a desperate ass. Be careful. As for Werner, he’s a pretentious prick. I’m all for going into comforting arms now that Ford’s moving on. Maybe a fling can still happen. Did you bring your sexy with you?”

  I laughed and touched my face as I looked out at traffic on the Brooklyn Bridge. Tam always knew how to lighten the mood when things got rough.

  “No. I have a cute dress on and heels, but I didn’t wear my cutest undies, if that’s what you mean. I doubt anything will happen. Ford invited me over as a friend, and I think he wants to make sure we keep our friendship. Honestly, I just want to spend time with him.”

  “Okay, I’m not interfering, but you’ve got graduation and a Ph.D. program to prepare for. Even if Ford’s officially done with her, you’re returning to Boston in a few months.”

  “Yeah,” I said, but for the first time in forever, I didn’t know if the academic path was right for me. A part of the reason was how Randall’s scheming would impose on my life there. The other was spending time away. Even in the short time living in the city, I’d been exposed to different ideas and different life plans.

  “Jaz, you still there? You went eerie quiet,” Tam half joked.

  “I am. I’m just thinking.”

  “I’m wondering what’s gotten into you? You could have crumbled for Randall, but you didn’t. I’m proud of you.”

  I surprised myself. Normally, I’d have done anything to keep his recommendations and academic network. Of course, now that was yet another worry. As for her friendly warning about getting attached to Ford, I would say things were still brand new. I wish I could tell her what I felt when I was with him. Yes, there was undeniable sexual attraction, but there was much more. I enjoyed talking and spending time with him.

  The taxi driver cleared his throat. “Excuse me, miss. We’ve arrived.”

  “Thanks,” I said to him. “I’ve got to go.” A nervous flutter went through my stomach. “Are you going back to the goats?”

  “No. I’m leaving for my parents’ vacation home in Nantucket. Quiet place bringing all my work, blah, blah, blah. I’ll have a hundred Nantucket jokes for you. Listen, Jaz, don’t brood. Randall’s not worth it.”

  “He isn’t. He really showed his true colors. I can’t believe him. I knew he was selfish, but I thought he cared for me. He’s an asshole, and I won’t waste another minute on him. I love you, Tam.”

  “Miss you. Have fun.”

  I dug inside of my bag to pay, and a knock sounded on the window. My heart stopped. Ford. He signaled for the driver to open his door and gave him his card.

  “No, Ford. I have this,” I said as he helped me climb out of the back, and I was instantly drawn closer to him. His blue eyes were astute as they scanned me. He immediately placed his arms around me and hugged me to his chest. The wall I put up to distance myself from the pain of all that happened melted away. My throat closed up.

  “I’ll kill him,” he murmured against my hair.

  Of course, he wouldn’t. Although, I did like the idea of Randall suffering.

  “Let’s go.”

  After he got his card back from the driver, he took my hand, and although my mind was still deluged with doubts, I followed him inside.

  I kicked off my shoes and padded across the thick carpet to the window and stared out at the skyline. His home was a work of art.

  “If th
is is the life of an art engineer, I’m doing college wrong.” I touched one of the decorative lamp shades.

  “Yes, you are,” Ford joked. He’d sat down on the couch, and I joined him.

  One of his portfolios was open on the coffee table. A naked picture of a woman with her wrists bound on all fours.

  “Cecile?” I asked.

  He closed the portfolio book. “No, someone from years ago. Martin, my friend and curator, stopped by for a private collector. He left it out.”

  “You take photos of everything? Or just women? Priscilla said you take photos of naked women.”

  He grunted. “Priscilla. Yes, I take photos of naked women. Does that trouble you?”

  “Not exactly. If they’re for your art.”

  “They are, but they didn’t start that way. I’ve only been doing exhibits for a few years, but my following is growing. In fact, Martin came by looking for something to add for a show. He saw your photos before and showed a few to one of his most affluent clients. They’re interested in more photos of you and possibly a collection.”

  “Why? There are plenty of pretty women around to take pictures of.”

  “Art isn’t only about beauty. It’s about expression, emotion. Some art can make you weep just from looking at it. You’re more than beautiful because you naturally express feeling. As a photographer, you’re my dream. My patrons come to me because they want to be able to feel your experience.”

  “Nudity is still a big part of your work,” I pointed out.

  “Nudity conveys lust and is easy to capture. But showing heart, vulnerability, and true nakedness is rare.”

  “I like the art angle of nudes. I once sat in as an art model at college to socially experiment how I felt and how the people in the art class responded.”

  Ford smiled. “Lucky art class. What was your conclusion?”

  I grinned. “Inconclusive. The teacher had me looking over my shoulder, so my backside was the focus. But your photos would mean my nudes would hang on some rich guy’s wall to entertain his guest. I’m not sure how much that could hold me back in my academia world.”

  “People can see free naked bodies online. It’s not just about the naked form for art lovers. But if you change your mind and agree, there’s a commission and contract. You can, of course, say no. Cecile thought it was good for her, and she was great at it. But if I could go back in time, I’d never have taken any photos of her.”

  “Why?”

  “She wasn’t ready for the money and attention. She got caught up, and those I trusted took advantage. What I’m trying to say is I won’t mind at all if you refuse.”

  I bit my lip. To be honest, I wanted to hear more about the money. I had college loans to pay. The Ph.D. programs I applied for would mostly add more to my tally. Now that I wasn’t Randall’s teaching assistant, I’d have to come up with money to cover the income gap in my final semester. Mom and Dad were completely out, and I had taxes on my inherited home. Or would Randall make good on his threats? The idea made my stomach churn.

  “You look upset. Did something else happen?” Ford asked, breaking into my thoughts.

  I pasted on a smile. “I’m fine. Just, yes. I could use the money if you think my photos could sell.”

  His face blanked, and I couldn’t read him.

  “All right. I’ll send the information to you. I’ve got a quick conference call to attend right now. I’ve ordered dinner for us, and it should be here soon.”

  “Okay, I’ll get into mischief,” I joked.

  “And I can discipline,” he teased back and winked.

  Ford left the room, and I went down to walk around his greenhouse. Even here, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I didn’t know what we were, but we weren’t just friends. Not when we looked at each other. Or when he touched me. Every touch left me hoping for more. Just thinking about it had me so hot and bothered, and I didn’t even think about Randall with Angelique. I actually worried for her. Randall didn’t keep people in his life if he couldn’t use them.

  Ford had finished his calls and was setting out plates when I rejoined him to help. “I hope it’s all right. I ordered steaks.”

  “I like steak,” I said.

  Chime. The door.

  Ford brought the bag to the kitchen, and I helped him put the food on the plates. Steak in raspberry sauce with potatoes, peas, and corn.

  “No kale? Oh, the shame,” I teased and sat down.

  He grinned and opened a bottle of red wine. “Next time. What would you like to do this evening? I have a pool on the roof.”

  I took a sip and smiled. “I think I’ll skip the pool. Just give me a pad and paper so I can brainstorm a new plan for the rest of my life.” My eyes glazed over, my gaze unfocused.

  He touched my hand that trembled. “I’d like to know more about what happened today.”

  I nodded, but we ate in silence for a while. Ford was patient, and he deserved an explanation.

  “Randall was always arrogant and demanding. They warned me before I took the job as his assistant. I took it anyway because I liked the challenge. I did all his research, ran his study groups, graded his papers. Hell, I even wrote some of the research papers he’s published. I lived like a professor. The life I always thought I wanted. And I was really good at it. Randall convinced me he believed in me and that I was a scholar in the making. School and grades have always been what I thought marked my worth, but when things turned to sex . . . He’s almost twenty years older than me—”

  Ford cursed and poured us both a half glass of the Merlot. “What a gross misuse of his power and control. He’s a disgusting asshole.”

  I drained most of my glass. “He’s a brilliant asshole. I thought I believed in the work. However, this last year, it seemed like I was going through the motions. With college winding down, I’d wake in the middle of the night in a panic, like what the hell will I do? Will this really be my life?”

  “There’s no set time to decide. You may find you live many lives,” he said.

  “You know, I never felt I had a choice. My parents met Randall, and they saw themselves. My mom married her professor, and they stayed together. In their heads, we were a brainy power couple. I never admitted any of this to anyone. I usually just say everything is fine. Tam, my best friend, knows, but she has the same pressure to succeed as I do. She has to be a doctor . . .”

  “I understand,” Ford said. “My dad is a celebrated plastic surgeon from a line of surgeons. We were wealthy, but he kept his wallet tight as a drum, as a form of control. He left us for a client when I was a teen, and my brothers and sisters were in grade school. I modeled to help my mom stay afloat and fight him legally and minored in business to understand money and how to invest. I’ve reached associate art director for Morgan Financial, which is on Forbes list as the top three software divisions in the world, but my father still considers me a failure.”

  “He sounds horrible.” I touched his hand and squeezed it. “You’re successful. Graham says you are a wiz at your job.”

  “I am,” he said. “I, like you, am doing what comes naturally for me. Hell, I may even become the head of the department after Margot retires. I’ll be absorbed in work forever.” He stared off.

  “Do you like your engineering job?” I asked.

  “I do. Art is my passion. My work in software design at Graham’s is another extension of my art. I love the financial security it provides me and members of my family. Photography is my passion, though. It drives and fuels me creatively. Now enough about me. What is your passion?”

  My stomach fluttered under his gaze. “My passion? I don’t know. I thought maybe after college, I’d find a clue… maybe become a Rhodes Scholar and travel and study. But now that Randall threatened me—”

  “What do you mean ‘threatened’?” His brows pulled together.

  “He said he’d ruin my reputation. Tell other professors I’m a slut. I don’t care about that, but he would tell them not to work with me. He
wants me to keep running his life until I graduate, maybe longer, if I get into a Ph.D. program.”

  “I’ll take care of it. He won’t do a thing to you. I’ll make sure of that.”

  “I’d prefer to fight my own battles. Besides, Randall’s posturing. He has much more to lose than me. All I want is to live in a small house with a dog and a wall of books.”

  “All alone? You’re not that cynical. It would be a life’s tragedy that someone would miss out on sharing his life with you.”

  My heart stuttered in my chest, and I met his eyes. They bore into my own, rendering me speechless. If I didn’t look at him, I could imagine he was using charm to lift my spirits, but the intensity of his gaze made my body react. It made me want to touch him. But wasn’t it wrong to move on impulse right now? I wasn’t sure if last night was a one-time thing or what we were doing.

  I flicked my eyes down to break our stare. “Maybe. I’m just upset now. We should eat before the food gets too cold.” I moved my food around my plate.

  “We can, but I’d like to hear more about why you feel you should be alone, Jasmine.”

  I hunched my shoulders. “I know I shouldn’t care, but some of the things Randall said stuck in my head. Like how he had to fuck me to make me shut up, and even that didn’t satisfy him—”

  “What the fuck did he say to you?” Ford growled, his nostrils flared. “That piece of shit has no right talking to you like that. I don’t care who the hell he is.”

  Ford’s reaction surprised me. Besides Tam and Soraya, no one ever acted that way when someone hurt me, not even my parents.

  “Randall’s always been full of himself, but he must have sensed a finality with me, so he tried to hurt me.”

  Standing from his seat, he came close and took my hands in his. “What else did he do? Did he touch you?”

  “He held my face and said some more nasty things, but I slapped him.”

  “That pompous piece of shit hurt you? He won’t get away with it. He has me to deal with now,” Ford said in a sharp tone.

  “He threatened to ruin my academic career, which I’ve worked too damn hard for. I just want to put him behind me right now.” I hated even listening to how weak Randall’s aggression made me.