Dominant Professor

by Mia Luxe

  My blood runs cold.

  Gerard. The busboy with the bright red hair. He is Laurel’s partner. It all makes sense. He saw us together at the restaurant and must have camped out by my building for the pictures. What is he, a cousin of hers? A brother?

  “I will be there immediately. Where is he?”

  “He is in the wine cellar, Sir. He has this smirk. He does not look like a man who has been caught red-handed. Is everything OK?”

  “It’s about to be,” I say with pure fury. I clench my fists, imagining slamming them into Gerard’s face.

  Finally, I know exactly what I have to do.

  It’s obvious this isn’t going to end with a one time payoff of one hundred thousand. If I want to keep Olivia safe, I need to take drastic measures.

  I pull out a piece of paper and a pen and write the letter quickly and neatly, signing my name at the bottom and sliding it into an envelope. Then I stand up to my full height.

  Time to end this once and for all.

  Spills Like Blood

  Bruce Harrison - Monday Night

  I open the restaurant doors and enter my bustling business. The Maître D looks at me seriously, and I nod at him. Wordlessly, I walk past him and down the steps to the wine cellar.

  The small room is cool and temperature controlled. I enter it and close the door behind me, staring at Gerard. His shock of red hair is the exact color as Laurel’s.

  He stands cockily, a bottle of Romanée-Saint-Vivant dangling in his hand. The bottle is half-empty. It is worth more than a week of his salary.

  This is the man who took the photos. This is the man who put Olivia’s education at risk, her scholarship, everything.

  It takes all my effort not to take the bottle and smash it over his head.

  “You steal from me.”

  He laughs, a high-pitched whine that grates.

  “I couldn’t let my sister have all the fun. I work here for shit wages and tips, and you drive around in a Jag F-Type? I deserve a little bit for my troubles. Why the hell are you even a Professor with money like you got?”

  “The students need a Professor who knows how to run a business.”

  He laughs, cruelly.

  “I could run this business better than you. I wouldn’t risk it over some slut, no matter how hot she is.”

  My muscles tense. I want to do nothing more than hit him. I breathe deeply.

  “You can run a business, can you? Are you the one who came up with the idea to blackmail me?”

  “No, that was all my sweet sis. Sounds like you gave her a pretty good fucking and she fell in love with you,” he says, taking a swig of the wine. “Me, I just know a good thing when I see it. So, this is what is going to happen. You’re going to start paying me. Not much, just an extra two hundred bucks a week for me to keep my mouth shut. Oh, and as much of this delicious wine as I can drink.”

  I reach down into my pocket the envelope from it. I take my letter out and hand it to him, seeing the look of confusion on his face.

  “Read it.”

  His smirk turns to confusion as he starts to read out loud.

  I, Professor Bruce Harrison, tender my formal resignation, effective immediately.

  I have begun a relationship with one of my students, Olivia Abernathy. The relationship started two weeks ago, and has not affected the academic performance of said student in any way. As soon as it begun I passed all grading responsibilities to my TA.

  I am prepared to pay the costs of hiring a temporary Professor to replace me and to re-grade all of Olivia’s assignments in order to assuage any doubts of favoritism.

  Bruce Harrison

  My hand is on his throat before the last word is out of his mouth. The bottle of wine drops to the ground, shattering. Red wine spills like blood and I resist the urge to slam my fist into his face for thinking of endangering my woman. I take the letter back from him.

  “You know what this means, you stupid, fucking piece of human waste? This means I don’t give a fuck what pictures you have. I am destroying every piece of leverage you have over me.”

  Gerard stutters. “I- I’m sorry, look, Laurel put me up to it, she said we could blackmail you for ten thousand dollars and split it, I’ll give you my share… And pay for this bottle of wine… Just please, please don’t hurt me.”

  I lift him up and push him against the wall. I lean forward, looking him directly in the eye. I have never seen a man so afraid. He is shaking like a leaf. This man who had the audacity to try to blackmail me, to threaten my career and my woman is reduced to a quivering, whimpering child. I will not hurt him, though he deserves it.

  I let him go. He is barely able to stand, leaning against the stone wall of the wine cellar.

  I take my phone out of my pocket, and press play.

  The recorded voice is perfectly clear.

  “I-I’m sorry, look, Laurel put me up to it, she said we could blackmail you for ten thousand dollars and split it, I’ll give you my share… And pay for this bottle of wine… Just please, please don’t hurt me.”

  “I’m going to drive you to the police station now. Confess, and I won’t press blackmailing charges against you. It sounds like Laurel was the brains behind this little operation. As long as she gets the full weight of justice, I’m prepared to let you off just repaying the blackmail money and what you owe me for this bottle of wine. You pathetic excuse for a man. Go ahead, drink it up. You paid for it.”

  I push him to the floor, forcing his face into the puddle of wine. He slurps it up, trying to avoid the broken glass.

  I breathe deep and let him go. He doesn’t deserve an ounce of my effort.

  He is a fool, but not dangerous. Laurel is the true menace. Once he confesses to the police, I have one more task to do. I need to make this letter official.

  One Phone Call

  Bruce Harrison - Monday Night

  I arrive at the Dean’s office five minutes before nine. The police station went as well as could be expected. I dropped Gerard off with the evidence, and they took him into custody. One phone call to Rick and I know he’ll be made a priority.

  It helps to have connections.

  The walk to the Dean’s office is melancholy. The campus spreads out around me, a place I’ve watched students grow and learn.

  Tonight will be my last time setting foot here.

  I’ll do anything to keep her safe.

  I knock on the Dean’s large door and he beckons me to enter. He’s sitting at a large desk covered in papers, a thermos of coffee indicating his night is just beginning.

  “Ah, the straw that’s about to break my back,” he says as a greeting, motioning for me to sit.

  I sit down in front of him.

  “Let’s get this formality over. A student dropped your class, so I need to ask you the standard questions about your curriculum's workload and whether you are fostering a welcoming environment. The regular bullshit. So let’s see. Student’s name was Olivia Abernathy. Seems like a bright young gal.”

  “I’m resigning.”

  I slip my resignation letter onto his desk, next to the precariously perched papers that form mounds.

  He lets out a long sigh and pours himself a mug of coffee. He doesn’t offer me any.

  “You’re resigning. Near the end of a semester, before finals, when papers haven’t been graded, you’re resigning.”

  “Read the letter. It explains everything.”

  He pushes his glasses closer against his face and slips the letter out of the already unsealed envelope, looking at it like it’s a piece of moldy fruit. He gingerly opens the folded pages and reads the short resignation letter in a matter of seconds.

  Then he rips in into four even pieces.

  “I’ll shred it in a minute, that was just for dramatic effect. Look Bruce. This school isn’t ready for another scandal. This school isn’t ready for another Professor Muntz.

  Of all the reactions to me resigning in the world, this was the one I expected the le
ast. I bristle at the comparison of what Olivia and I have to Professor Muntz’ disgusting tryst.

  “He was getting blown in exchange for easy A’s. This isn’t the same.”

  “Bruce, it doesn’t matter what it is or isn’t. It’s what it looks like.”

  He pauses.

  “Here’s the thing, Bruce. I know that you sent in that “anonymous donation” of three million to our medical program. You think you’re sly, but I’m smarter than you know. I know you own twelve different restaurants and that god damn monstrosity of a strip mall, and probably a handful of other businesses I have no clue about. I wondered why you taught here when you’re filthy fucking rich. You care about your students. Is it serious between you and this Olivia?”

  “Yes. I love her.”

  The dean nods ruefully.

  “So, this isn’t just an attempt to get out of grading final exams? Good, because you are going to grade them. All but one. Then I’m going to get you in touch with the Dean at the South Community college which happens to be looking for a business Professor right now. I got into this job because I care about education, and there is no way in hell we are losing an educator like you back to the private sector. So. If you two are close, why did Olivia drop your class?”

  “It’s complicated. Someone found out about us.”

  He lets a long sigh leave his mouth.

  “Someone who’s going to spill the beans?”

  “There’s the problem. I think you’re going to get your scandal. The person who blackmailed me was Laurel. Yeah, that Laurel,” I say, as I see him wince.

  “God dammit. That woman is more trouble than she’s worth. You know, I’ve tried to have her fired three times and somehow she finds a loophole to stay. I suspect she’s been engaged in multiple relationships with students as well as embezzling funds, but I can’t prove anything.”

  “Well, I can prove blackmail. I brought her little brother to the police first but I’m sure they are going to bring her in next.”

  He sighs.

  “Dammit Bruce, so now I have to deal with a felon who worked here. That’s going to be great for my next year’s foreign student enrollment levels. Whoever said all press is good press didn’t have to run a college.”

  An alarm goes off on my phone. It’s the specific ring-tone set for when Rick calls.

  “Hold on, I might have news about the situation.”

  I pick up, and Rick starts talking in a clipped tone.

  “Olivia is in danger.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Listen. You’re both in danger. I got my boys to run prints on Gerard. His name isn’t Gerard. It’s Robert. His older sister is named Laura, not Laurel. They disappeared four years ago from Oregon state. She was in the middle of being investigated after her husband and his mistress were found with their throats slit in bed. I had my boys at the station search Gerard again. He had a burner phone tucked away with one call logged, five minutes ago to Laura. You can sure as hell bet he warned her. I’ve got a team of guys on their way to provide security. They will be there in 15 minutes. Just sit tight and…”

  I hang up and stand up so quickly that my chair is thrown behind me.

  Before the dean can say anything I’m out the door, running as fast as my legs can take me towards my car, calling Olivia frantically on my phone.

  The third time I call, she answers.

  “Stop calling this number!” Her voice is slurred. I can hear the sounds of music in the background, upbeat Spanish music remixed with a bass beat.

  Before I can say a word, she hangs up.

  I know exactly where she is. Margarita Monday at the student bar.

  If Laurel, no, Laura has warrants on her fucking head, she’s going to be getting out of here. But if there is any chance she has some fucked up notion that she wants revenge against me and Olivia, I need to get to her and make sure she’s safe.

  Crash

  Olivia Abernathy - Monday Night

  Stop calling this number,” I yell over the music. I hang up angrily.

  “Turn your phone off! That creep is going to keep bothering you all night, and tonight is about forgetting him and moving on.”

  I follow Zoe’s advice, turning my phone off and taking a sip of margarita. Well, more like a gulp. We have a half-full pitcher sitting on our little table. It’s the second of the night.

  I’m feeling dizzy from the alcohol.

  “You ladies want to dance?”

  My vision feels a little slow as I look up from my table to the two hunks who have approached us. I recognize them from the gym. They are always working out with the football team.

  “Hell yeah,” says Zoe, and before I can do anything she’s pulled me to the dance floor. The larger guy, a tall, lean man who I think plays quarterback pairs off with me, the remixed Salsa music pumping through my veins as I stand in front of him. His hands lightly graze my hips as we dance. The touch feels foreign. Wrong.

  This guy is hot. The point of this night is to forget Bruce. So, forget him.

  “I’m Chad,” he whispers in my ear, leaning forward.

  I have a flash of memory.

  The way that Bruce would lean into my ear and tell me the things I wanted to hear. Things that are so false, so fake and useless.

  I want to throw up.

  “I need air,” I say, instead of my name, extracting myself from his grasp and grabbing my purse from the table. I rush outside into the coolness of the night. I want to throw up. I want to scream. Zoe rushes out behind me.

  “Take me home,” I say, feeling tears welling up again. It’s too soon. Zoe might be able to brush off an ex with a night of dancing and drinking, but I can’t.

  “OK Olivia,” she says soothingly, kindly, walking back to dorms with me.

  “It just… it just feels like this was supposed to be the beginning. Not the end.”

  We look at each other in shock as we hear the sirens. Not the kind of sirens you get from a single ambulance. A deafening wave of sirens like the entire police department is coming down on us.

  From around the corner comes a scene straight from a movie. I see the beat-up Honda careening down the street towards us, three police cars chasing it and Zoe screams as it aims straight for us. I see the flash of red hair in the driver’s seat and it’s all happening so fast, I see her flying towards me when out of nowhere there’s a grey burst of movement. A second car slams into the front of the Honda at full speed, a blow that sends it careening away from us and before I can react Bruce Harrison’s Jaguar is spinning out of control after saving us from being hit head on by the Honda.

  The Jaguar flips over and over and smashes into the side of a building and the police screech to a halt. Laurel pulls herself out of her Honda and starts to run but I barely register it as I rush towards the wreckage. Nothing makes sense.

  Police officers are running but I am closer and I feel the sickening pain in my stomach.

  No one could survive that.

  He’s gone, when it was just beginning.

  I stand in front of the burning car as police officers rush past me and fall to my knees.

  I love him.

  It’s so clear now. When he’s gone, when it’s too late for anything to be possible, I feel it so fully through my entire body.

  I love him, and he’s gone.

  Officers pull at the doors, braving the fire to rip it off and they pull him out of the wreckage. Tears flow down my face. The acrid smoke burns my eyes, but I keep them open.

  I need to watch.

  The Deepest Pain

  Olivia Abernathy - Monday Night

  I hate hospitals. I know everyone hates hospitals, but knowing that Bruce is in that room and I can’t do anything to help him is the deepest pain I have ever felt.

  Zoe holds my hand next to me. She is there for comfort. The police have already taken our statements, and I told them everything I knew. I know I sound like a zombie as I tell them my story. I can barely formula
te words.

  They explained the situation and it feels surreal, my mind barely able to process everything.

  She was blackmailing him.

  They weren’t sleeping together.

  She’s a murderer.

  She tried to kill me and Zoe.

  Bruce saved us.

  Over and over the thoughts flip and churn in my head. The worst thought, the most painful is seared into my mind. I repeat it constantly in my head, wishing it wasn’t true.

  Bruce might not make it out of surgery.

  For twelve hours I sit there, Zoe and I taking turns grabbing each other coffee when the surgeon comes out. He’s upwards of sixty. Grey haired with a serious look. Tired, the kind of tired that is both mental than physical.

  “Please tell me he’s OK.” The words come out of me with a sob, emotion welling.

  “He’s going to make it. He’s stable. You should go home and rest. He’ll be able to take visitors in the morning.”

  Please don’t let this be the end.

  Aftermath

  Bruce Harrison - Tuesday Morning

  My brain feels foggy and drugged, and pain shoots up from everywhere. I try to focus.

  My last memory is of Laura trying to mow down Olivia.

  I blink twice, seeing the nurse next to me. I grab her arm and she jumps in shock.

  I’m in a hospital.

  “Is she OK,” I say, the words slurring out of me. The nurse pats my arm slowly.

  “Relax Mr. Harrison. Everything’s OK.”

  “Is she OK! Olivia Abernathy. The girl who was hit by the car.”

  The words sound jumbled together, my own voice foggy and slow.