45. James
45
James
I call my lawyer on the drive home.
“James? It’s been a long time.”
“I punched a student.”
“As good at small talk as ever, I see.”
“And threatened him.”
I hear his heavy sigh as he sticks his glasses on the desk. “What did he do?”
“Hit my car.”
“You couldn’t have just grabbed his insurance?”
“He also put hands on my girlfriend.”
Gerald swears. “Did either incident happen on campus?”
“Yes.”
“Is there video surveillance?”
“Probably.”
“Come to my office tomorrow. We’ll have a . . . chat. And James?”
“Yeah.”
“She must really be something, if you’re so worked up.”
I glance sideways at her, and she blushes.
“She is.”
“I’ve never heard you call someone a girlfriend before. Would have sworn you were gay.”
Kiernan snorts, and I can practically hear Gerald’s shock on the other end of phone, that she’s in the car, that I’m discussing this in front of her. I know I’ll be grilled within an inch of my life when I see him, but he seems to be restraining himself.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I grumble.
“Always a treat, James.”
The call disconnects, and I stare straight ahead. I can feel Kiernan’s eyes on me, but she says nothing.
I say nothing.
The air gets thick but not uncomfortable as we both marinate in the aftermath of what just happened.
I should care. I know I should care. But all I can think about is turning the car around and wrapping my hands around his throat until he’s fucking purple.
I don’t want you to choke anyone but me.
Fuck.
I keep driving.