Reservation preservation.., p.12
Reservation (Preservation Series), page 12
“I’ll do what I can, but there are no guarantees.”
I sipped my coffee, eyeing him over the brim of the cup. I was suddenly alert and ready to resume our conversation from last night. “So you came over here at eight a.m. to tell me I’m screwed? Funny, you didn’t seem concerned about tarnishing my image last night when you ambushed me with Melanie outside the limo. I won’t forget that bullshit, Danny. And I won’t put up with it again. I’m just a fucking writer. I’m nobody. I have no desire to put myself through that shit for the sake of ‘celebrity’.” I used one hand to draw quote marks in the air. “Thought I made that clear.”
“We discussed this last night, Ryan. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was bringing Melanie as your date, but it truly was a last-minute decision, and it was far from image tarnishing. These details about your past, on the other hand—”
“I don’t care. I won’t be discussing them. Not with you, not with anyone.” I took another sip, letting it sit in my mouth for a second.
He turned for the door, chuckling. That patronizing tone of his was really starting to grate on my nerves. “I should’ve known you’d be difficult. Okay, well, if you change your mind and decide you want to share any other details about you and this Amy Mercer, give me a call. Unlike the pregnancy claim by Ms. Anders, it’s clear there is truth to these rumors, which means we need to do all we can to keep the upper hand and calm the storm. It’s best if we address them publically before she or any of her sources do first. Just keep that in mind. And I hope for your sake that what happened with those girls at Henson’s won’t happen again, because I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to rescue you a second time.”
“I won’t need rescuing again. Nothing happened with those girls. They cornered me. You showed up just in time.”
“Yeah, sure. See you later, Ryan.”
The second he was gone, I slumped against the counter and felt my shoulders sag. It was days like this I wondered if my past would ever truly stay where it belonged.
Or whether it would follow me until my present was choking in its cloud of dust.
***
The rest of the day was packed. After my morning wake-up call from Danny, I had enough time to race to the university, grab a swim and some breakfast, and get to my first class. I still hadn’t heard from Kate, and I was on the verge of losing it. She hadn’t even texted me back or left a voice mail. My mind migrated from images of her accidentally sleeping in and missing work, to those of her being swept away and drowning in the Caribbean Sea. I pushed the irrational thoughts out of my head.
I was about to grab some lunch before my afternoon session when I was summoned to speak with Dean Sinclair. I stepped into his office and took a seat, then planted my feet wide and leaned back in the green leather chair, resting my arms casually on my lap. Minutes ticked by until he finally came in to join me, glancing at me over his glasses as he made his way around to the other side of his desk.
“Ryan, I would ask how you are, but that seems a senseless question, don’t you think? The news says it all. You’re on cloud nine, no doubt.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
Yeah, this guy really didn’t like me.
I straightened in the seat, propping one leg on my thigh. “I guess you could say that. How are you, Mr. Sinclair?”
He leaned in over his desk and pressed his fingers together into a steeple under his chin. “I’m well, thank you. Forgive me, Ryan, for being so forward, but I doubt much would shock you in that department.”
I bristled.
“So, I’ll just cut right to the chase, shall I?”
“Sure, be my guest.” Asshole.
“This is quite unconventional, what I’m about to propose, here. It’s usually something the entire board discusses with you. However, due to time restraints we feel we’re up against, we—the board and university representatives—have already discussed the matter privately, and the task of speaking to you was left up to me. We felt it was best to keep everything as quiet as possible, and we wanted our proposal to be low key, presented to you in a non-threatening manner.”
My teeth sank into my bottom lip, and the material of my dress shirt began to itch my skin. “This sounds serious.”
“It is serious, but it doesn’t have to cause a scene. It all depends on your response to our offer.”
“Your offer?”
“Yes. Simply put, your new star status has caused much commotion as of late. As you can probably guess, the need and the cost to provide additional security both in and out of your classroom has caused us a bit of an inconvenience, but that’s certainly the least of our concern. Your presence has become a distraction, not only for your students, but for others on campus. And given your...reputation on campus, the buzz amongst students and faculty alike is only serving to add to that distraction. Every rumor—whether fact or fiction—that has circulated about you since you began teaching at this university is now amplified, and it’s reflecting poorly on our institution.”
“With all due respect, sir, I would think that any exposure for your school would be beneficial.”
“Let me be frank.” He leaned back and clasped his hands together on his lap. “Your very name is synonymous with scandal. You’ve been thought by students and staff to be a womanizing, conniving playboy both on campus and off. The media is now beginning to paint a similar picture, drawing on the rumors circulated here, which is aligning us with your name and all things associated with it. As you can imagine, that is not ideal exposure.”
“That is beyond my control, sir. To be fair, I’ve cleaned up my act since your last disciplinary meeting with me. I’ve been committed to my students and desire nothing more than to leave my term here on a good note, with the utmost professionalism.”
“Cleaned up your act?” His eyebrows rose and voice hardened. “Do you consider seeing a student by the name of Kate Parker ‘cleaning up your act’?”
Oh, shit.
“Everyone is aware of the affair, Mr. Campbell. I did not step in or bring the matter up until now for the mere fact that unlike your other student affairs, it seems you’ve been decent enough to keep the relationship relatively under the radar and off campus, as we expect you to, per our fraternization policy.”
I inwardly cringed, recalling more than one escapade with Kate in the administrative lounge when we first got together. For the most part, though, we put a stop to any on-campus contact not long after. The memory of once hoisting Kate from the copy machine, to the couch, then back to the copy machine flickered through my mind. A smile teased my lips, but I wrestled it into submission.
Wrong or not, those flings in the lounge were pretty damn hot.
“For the record, Kate Parker is no longer my student. I can’t take back what I’ve done, Mr. Sinclair. I can only do my best to set things right for the remainder of my time here. So, what are you saying? You’d like me to leave, is that it?”
“Yes. We’d like you to consider this your last week teaching here. Your students will be notified and everything will be handled as quickly and quietly as possible. A replacement has already been arranged, so nothing will interfere with your students’ semester. In exchange for your swift resignation, we’ll provide the remainder of your salary along with severance pay.”
I laughed to myself. Yeah, nothing would interfere, except for the fact that they were used to me and have been preparing for their final according to my teaching style and syllabus specifications.
“The semester’s nearly over,” I said, turning my palms up in an attempt to make the man see some sense. “Another month or so, and you’ll never see me step foot on this campus again. Is it really necessary to change to a different instructor when they have been preparing for my final all this time?”
The look on his face told me it was more than necessary.
“The sooner the better. Your students will simply resume your lesson plan with a different instructor. Rest assured, there will be no decrease in quality where their course is concerned, and I’m sure we’d all enjoy a collective sigh of relief when things return to normal.”
My life was anything but normal, and it sure as hell wouldn’t be any more normal when I left campus, but what did he care? In his eyes, I was just a womanizing asshole. Toxic garbage he wanted to dispose of as quickly and as discreetly as possible. As much as the thought pissed me off, I couldn’t blame the guy for the impression he had of me. I’d done it all to myself, and this was a classic example of my past sneaking up to bite me in the ass.
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
“Yes. When would you like me to leave?”
“You can pack up your things immediately and tend to your afternoon class. Today will be your last day.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.” He stood and extended a hand, his body straight as a board. I accepted. His grip was rigid and clearly offered strictly out of courtesy. “All the best to you with your current and future writing endeavors. I’m sure the entertainment world is better suited to your...preferences.”
I withdrew my hand as if he’d bit me and turned for the door, choking back an emotion I wasn’t unfamiliar with.
Anger.
8. CEMENT
The city lights blurred all around me, and each bout of laughter that drifted from the nearby restaurants out into the streets filled me with a sense of loneliness. The scent of freshly baked bread, spirits, and a hint of saltwater struck me as I strolled down the sidewalk, suit jacket hanging lifelessly over my shoulder. The cool air danced over my skin, my shirt sleeves rolled up to my elbows and top buttons loosened at my chest. My tie was opened and hanging around my collar, my feet tired from walking. I‘d lost track of how long I’d been wandering, and now the city was rich with night life.
When I’d finished my last class that afternoon, I’d stood with my box of belongings at the classroom door, staring out at the empty wooden seats, memorizing the way they looked, dressed in sunlight from the windows. Who knew leaving behind the teaching profession would have such a profound effect on me. Hell, it was my last semester, anyway. I’d been mentally prepared to put an end to the career. But something about being dismissed early and seeing those empty seats stirred things in me.
I was no longer just a normal professor, teaching for a living. There would be no more Jay Millers coming to ask me for advice. No longer would I be able to enjoy the anonymity of having an average job. My reputation had been tainted early on at the university, but something shifted when I began seeing Kate—something for me, anyway. I could never erase what my students and fellow colleagues thought of me in the beginning, but I was just beginning to feel different. Useful. Needed, even.
Now I had to kiss that all goodbye, and for what? A publishing contract that turned out to be a circus act? Was this the path I really wanted to be on? I guess it was too late to wonder, but my mind didn’t seem to want to listen to that reasoning. It was obsessed with the question, a machine jammed and spitting out a Does-Not-Compute error message, no matter how many times I tried to dislodge it from its rut.
My phone buzzed and I pulled it from my pocket. Sam, calling to check on me. She’d been texting me constantly since that morning, but I didn’t respond. I didn’t feel like returning any calls or texts, but I’d kept an eye on any incoming contact just in case Kate decided to call. I still hadn’t heard from her. Where the hell was she? A flood of images involving scumbag men like Mark and Eric assaulted me, but I extinguished them immediately.
My legs burned as I walked up hill. I came to the end of the street and turned right, only vaguely noting the street name. I could tell I wasn’t far from The Triple Door. At least I still had my bearings. Just as I made the turn, a barrage of flashing ensued, car doors slamming near the curb on the left. Photographers came toward me, rushing from across the street and onto the sidewalk, some confirming my whereabouts on cell phones, while others were shutter happy, busy clicking away.
Shit, I was so not in the mood for this—just when I thought I’d lost them six blocks back.
They moved in, getting up close and personal. Instead of responding to their comments, I pushed my tired feet into a full-on sprint, racing through the circle they’d formed and down the sidewalk. Car engines roared and feet hit pavement behind me, but I didn’t stop running.
Thankful the sidewalk was dipping downhill now, I kept my eyes glued to the bottom of the street as I raced toward it, pumping my arms. I pried my eyes away from the pavement only long enough to scan the side streets for an escape. I bumped into a few fellow pedestrians and mumbled apologies, spotting a narrow alleyway to the right. I reached it and dashed between its walls, hauling ass around trash cans and ratty furniture until I saw another alley up on the left. I took the turn and sprang forward, catching a brief glimpse of a back door to what appeared to be a pub. Moving too fast to read the name on the sign, I ducked inside and slammed the door behind me, waiting.
Working to catch my breath, I pushed myself off the door when no one barreled in after me and walked down the dark hallway, hearing the low rumble of voices and glasses clinking. The sounds were muted by classic rock music, which sounded like it was coming from an old-school juke box.
I exhaled in relief when the nearly-empty bar came into view. A salty old sailor type was working the bar, mopping the counter with a washcloth, while two patrons sat and drank their beers, their eyes glued on the TV screen above. I tossed my jacket on the stool next to me and took a seat, groaning as I bent my knees. I was getting too old for this shit.
“Alaskan Amber, please,” I told the bartender, thinking now would be a good time to order a drink, before the hounds caught on to my location. I doubted I’d have much time, but hopefully my escape would buy me a few minutes to catch my breath.
The dark, heavy wooden door creaked and brought with it a blast of cool air, and I immediately glanced over my shoulder to see who walked in. Thank God, just another customer. The guy greeted the bartender and took a seat next to me, removing his baseball cap.
“Good God almighty, Ryan Campbell?!” he shouted, laughing as he swung around to face me.
I cringed at the sound of his recognition, wondering why this guy had to know who I was just as I settled down to breathe, but then froze in my seat and threw him a double take. I’d know that voice anywhere, and that cheeky grin, too. “Ian?”
“Holy hell, man, how are you, brother?” He laughed again, leaning in to clap my back, which transitioned into a full-on man hug. “Never mind. Dumb question. I’ve seen you in the news, dude. You’ve gotta be pretty fucking good, right?”
I willed my eyes to be playing tricks on me, but they weren’t. There stood Ian, my former best friend, looking just as I remembered him. With floppy brown hair and that American boy-next-door smile, he still looked like the fun-loving ladies’ man I remembered him as.
“Yeah, I’m good, man. What about you, what have you been up to? Still selling insurance?”
“Yup, I work at the agency right around the corner. I love coming to O’Malley’s when I have downtime. You been coming here? I don’t know how I missed you, especially now, Mister Celebrity Hotshot!”
“Nah,” I shuffled my beer bottle between both hands, “just wandered in, actually. Running from the damn photographers.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“That’s some crazy shit, man. I can’t believe it’s really you. Damn, it’s been a long time. Sorry about the ways things were left with us, dude. I was an idiot.”
“Water under the bridge. Can I buy you a drink?”
“Hell yes, but first, hey Lucky,” he waved to the bartender, “can you do us a favor and put the closed sign up? My friend here is being hounded by photographers and could use some privacy for a while.”
Lucky glanced at me and grumbled something about losing income for the night, but lumbered over to the front door and hung the closed sign, then lowered the latch.
“I’ll pay you for the inconvenience,” I said to the man, pulling a few hundreds from my wallet. “I appreciate it.”
Ian gaped at the cash, whistling. I ordered him a drink and we slipped into conversation, just like old times. It was easy. Too easy.
“So, I saw you on the news with Melanie Carpenter on your arm, bro. Please tell me you hit that. Hell, you probably bang tons of chicks like her now, huh? That photo shoot you did for that women’s magazine last week was something else. All the ladies in the office picked up a copy and wouldn’t shut up about it. They’d all fall at your feet, guaranteed, brother.”
Apparently, it wasn’t just the conversation that was like old times. Ian hadn’t changed a bit. “Nah, I’m engaged, man. I was set up with Melanie by my publicist. He sprang it on me when I showed up to that event. I want none of that, believe me.”
“Engaged? No way, dude. Please, tell me it’s not...”
“Definitely not.”
“Thank God. I saw her a while back, ya know. She was with some new Nancy boy.”
“Oh, yeah? So Jason the hockey player is out of the picture, huh?”
“That’s what it looked like, but you never know. She was probably screwing around on him just like she screwed around on you.”
“That’s a possibility.”
“So who have you decided to settle down with now? And why didn’t you show up at this event with her instead of Melanie?” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Or are you banging them both?”
I frowned and gripped my beer bottle. “I don’t screw around on Kate, Ian.”
“Ah, Lady With The Ring has a name. Well, I give you credit, dude. If I was around the chicks you were, I sure as hell wouldn’t be able to keep my dick in my pants.”
“You never could.”
“Well, I learned from a pro,” Ian quipped, gesturing at me with his bottle. A prickle of anger danced across my scalp as I stared at his face in disbelief. The tiny lines around his eyes said that he had matured. But his smartass mouth said he was still young and stupid, with only one thing on his mind.
