To Professor, With Love(95)

 

“Gamble, man, I am so sor—”

 

Rage boiled in my bloodstream as I surged to my feet. Winding back my arm, I punched him right in the eye. “You son of a bitch.”

 

He moaned and clutched his face. “Shit,” he muttered, bending over and dancing in place as if that would alleviate the pain. “Fuck, man. That hurt.” He straightened, clutching his eye.

 

I pointed my finger at his nose and growled. “If she gets any grief because of what you just did, I will never forgive you.” Shoving past him, I opened the door to leave, but caught a wide-eyed Hamilton watching us.

 

“And you.” I pointed to him. He gulped and shifted a step back. I still couldn’t believe he was twenty-one. Old enough to drink alcohol, or more importantly, serve it. “Do you need a job?”

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

 

 

 

 

 

“Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go.” - T.S. Eliot

 

 

 

~ASPEN~

 

 

 

Thursday night. Ladies’ night. The Forbidden Nightclub was crowded as usual.

 

After I splashed on a little makeup and slid on my favorite pair of tight pants with tall leather boots and dressy top, I strolled into the club, unable to stay away from my man.

 

Hugging the edges of the crowd, I kept close to the dark walls, wondering whether he’d be working tables or the bar this evening. I scanned the tables first, until I spotted a server. Noel’s roommate stood at one small table pulling some bills from his black waist apron to give a table full of girls their change. I had a bad feeling I knew exactly where he'd gotten the black eye he'd been sporting all week, so I'd never asked Noel about it.

 

As Ten handed the change back, he leaned in to speak into the ear of one girl. But whatever he said must’ve been pretty offensive because her mouth dropped open right before she slapped him. He merely grinned, blew her a kiss, and sauntered off.

 

Shaking my head, I wondered how Noel had ever befriended such a character.

 

The next waiter I spotted happened to be another student of mine. Another football player too. He must’ve sensed my gaze because he glanced over as he passed, and nearly tripped over his feet. He gaped a second before stepping toward me.

 

“D...Dr. Kavanagh,” he greeted. Shit. My cover was blown. “Do you need a drink?”

 

“No, I—” I started before cutting myself off. Great, if I didn’t need a half-priced drink on ladies’ night then what possible reason did I have for being here? So I opened my mouth to order something—anything—when he nodded his head toward the back of the club. “Noel’s working the bar tonight.”

 

My jaw sagged. “I...excuse me?” I wrinkled my brow as if I was überly confused. Inside, my nervous system went haywire with panic.

 

But why in the hell would he automatically tell me where Noel was? He should not know I was here to see Noel.

 

As if realizing he’d just misspoken, his eyes grew big. “I mean...” He coughed into his hand. I watched the wheels in his brain churn, trying to come up with a cover. “I just meant...my friend, Noel, was at the bar...you know, in case you changed your mind and wanted to order anything. You could go up there, no problem, and order something from him...if you wanted...later on.”

 

He had to be the worst liar on the face of the planet. An instant sheen of sweat had already coated his face and his eyes darted as if begging me to believe him. But at least he seemed to know he was caught because he whirled away before I could answer and darted off into the crowd of people.

 

I stared after him, my heart pounding. He knew. He knew about Noel and me. My flight instincts kicked into gear. I wanted to race toward the door and keep running, because if this guy knew, then who else knew? Noel’s roommate knew. More were bound to find out.

 

I suddenly felt as if I was standing on a ticking time bomb. This was going to end badly. There seemed to be no way around it.

 

“Hey there, pretty lady?” a voice said to my right, startling me back to the present. “Can I get you a drink?”

 

I turned slowly, mechanically, to see another waiter approaching. This one had a tattoo on the side of his neck, more running up and down both arms and too many piercings for me to count. I looked at him but really didn’t see him. The certainty of my impending doom weighed down on me, and I couldn’t breathe so well.

 

But the waiter merely grinned and snapped his finger as if he recognized me. “You were here a few weeks back, flirting with Gamble, weren’t you? He’s working the bar tonight.” Winding his arm around my waist, he applied the lightest pressure to the base of my spine and urged me forward as he accompanied me to the bar.