Chapter 35 – Easton
After another long night of gate duty, Easton arrived at Ridge Moore much later than he had the day before.
He ignored the disapproval of his personal secretary and the other three women in the office.
They ignored his peace offering of European pastries and gourmet coffee, so he set the bakery goods and cup carrier on a long table with a very small clearing. Forms filled most of the surface.
“Help yourselves,” he announced, not receiving an answer.
His smile pasted in place, he unlocked his office door and walked in.
Somehow, he’d forgotten the musty odor he’d endured for hours yesterday.
Something he couldn’t stomach today, so instead he flipped on the lights, set his briefcase under the desk, and removed his suit jacket and tie.
After rolling up his sleeves, he walked out of the office and locked the door behind him.
“I’ll be around,” he said in that same cordial tone.
His secretary pointed to a wide cabinet with two drawers. “Walkie Talkies are in there. Dr. Marvey didn’t like them. He preferred we reach out on his cell phone if a problem arose, but we don’t have your number.”
“Uh, what’s your name?”
Offering a little sniff, she removed the lanyard from around her neck and held up the badge. “Clara, Mr. DeLuca,” she said loftily, scraping her fingers through her short salt-and-pepper hair.
“Please call me Easton.” He snatched a form from the long table, turned it to its blank side and scribbled his cell phone number. He laid it on her desk. “I will make sure to set up the Walkie Talkies. If you need me, don’t hesitate to call me.”
She looked at the number, then lifted her gaze to him, studying him as if he was an unidentified bug species that she debated on murdering. “Will do.”
“I’m Micheala,” the youngest one in the group announced. She was the receptionist. “Thank you for the pastries. I took one of those soft, sweet Croissants.”
“It’s a Cornetto,” Easton told her. “My favorite. My mother always made them from scratch. I have yet to find any that can compare to hers.”
She glanced at him through her lashes, an invitation he studiously ignored. Office flings were never a good idea, especially since she was his subordinate.
“Call me if something needs my attention, Clara,” he threw over his shoulder, heading for the door.
“Yes, sir,” Clara responded as he stepped into the school’s entrance hall filled with bulletin boards, a cast bronze mascot, and trophy displays.
He wasn’t sure which direction to go. He probably should make the rounds in each classroom and introduce himself to the teachers and students. No one indicated whether he’d have a formal introduction.
Or, maybe, he should find a store and buy air freshener, then sit his ass at his desk and acquaint himself with the school’s rules and bylaws. He was just so fucking exhausted, working gate duty until 4AM again this morning.
Diesel was trying to kill him. Motherfucker.
He’d fantasize later about all the ways to fuck up that asshole. Right now he had to figure this shit out. He’d accepted Outlaw’s offer because of the money. However, he hadn’t thought they’d just order him to the school to fill the role.
Billson crossed his mind. The man seemed to take Diesel with a grain of salt, knowing how to appease him and what to say to survive his bad fucking temper.
Turning, Easton headed for the doors that led to the quad and walked out into the bright day.
The mid-April sun was strong. Glad he left his jacket, he stood on the perron and admired the beauty of the trees, lush lawn, and the architecture of the buildings.
Serving as school administrator was a much better way to spend his day than doing Bash’s bidding with tasks usually involving Tio.
This filled him with purpose. That filled him with disgust.
If he knew what the fuck he was doing. What the fuck was wrong with these motherfuckers? They could’ve hired someone to train him at the very least.
No, what the fuck was wrong with him? Money wasn’t everything. He could’ve turned the job down. He still could walk away. Except he never ran from challenges and maybe he could help CJ find his footing at school and beyond these walls.
The idea renewed his determination to succeed and he bounded down the steps, too late realizing the fucking buildings only had signs with this hall or that hall.
There were too many fucking dead presidents and historical figures and too many goddamn subjects for him to equate science with this person or social studies with that one.
In the end, he stumbled upon Wilhemhein’s class by accident, where CJ sat with two girls at a lab table in the back of the room. He searched for Ryan but didn’t see him. Interesting. Didn’t they know it would be easier to protect the kids if they had as many of them as possible in one spot?
One of the girls at CJ’s table, a pretty blonde who wore her skirt a little shorter than most school districts allowed, raised her hand.
That was when everyone noticed him, standing just inside the doorway.
The girl with the raised hand gasped and her hands flew to her mouth.
“That’s not Channing Tatum, Skye,” CJ said irritably. “Why the fuck would he be at this fucking school anyway?”
“How’d you know what I was thinking? Are you, like, that into me?”
“Oh, please,” the other one said, a Black girl equally as gorgeous as Skye. “You think he’s interested in you?”
Skye made a face at her. “I do, Jaleena.”
“It’s obvious what you were thinking, Skye,” CJ said, still grouchy, throwing Jaleena a warning glare. “I wondered the same thing.”
Skye looked Easton over, eyes glued to his face before turning to CJ again. “Is he related?”
“I am not, Skye,” Easton blurted, taking mercy on CJ.
Wilhemhein lifted a brow. “We don’t address our students in such an ordinary manner, sir. She’s Miss Ratcliffe.”
Easton had forgotten Billson’s mini education yesterday. “Apologies,” he said to the math teacher, then looked at Skye. “To you as well, Miss Ratcliffe.”
“This is Jaleena Davis, East…Mr. DeLuca,” CJ said, nodding to the other girl at his table. “Er, Miss Davis.”
Easton nodded to every student CJ introduced him to before Skye raised her hand again.
“Yes, Miss Ratcliffe?” Wilhemhein sounded so fucking over the day.
“Will you dock points from CJ if he doesn’t help me like he promised?”
“You’re the math whizz, remember, Skye?” CJ drawled.
Before Skye responded, Jaleena turned on the stool and looked at the teacher. “Skye asks a good question, sir. CJ’s very smart. He isn’t working with us because he isn’t capable. He said he doesn’t want to work with us.”
“I don’t,” CJ snapped. “You two have been sniping at each other for thirty minutes. We aren’t getting work done.”
“Mr. Wilhemhein should’ve let you choose one of us,” Jaleena said with a pout.
CJ shoved his fingers through his hair. “I need a fucking cigarette.”
Fuck, that made two of them.
Wilhemhein looked like he’d sucked on rancid ass. “Young man, did you just swear in my presence?”
“He did!” Skye cried and pointed at Jaleena. “But it’s her fault. She annoyed him first.”
“And you did it second,” CJ retorted, getting to his feet and stalking to a desk, where he sat. “Fail me, sir. I am not fucking ruining my goddamn days working with those two. I’ll fail anyway. Save all of us the fucking trouble—”
“CJ!” Easton inserted, unsure of the protocol in this situation, but unable to let the disrespect pass, even if Meggie and Christopher owned the fucking school.
“What, Easton? This day has been entirely fucked. I should’ve brought my happy ass back home after I saw…after I realized the cologne…” He snapped his mouth shut and groaned. “Never mind.”
Skye raised her hand again. “CJ and me are friends, Mr. Wilhemhein, so we should be partners.”
“CJ is my ex-boyfriend,” Jaleena inserted, surprising Easton with that knowledge.
Folding his arms, CJ glowered at the board.
“This will not work, sir,” Skye persisted. “We won’t share him. It has to be one of us.”
“Play eenie, meenie, minie, moe,” one of the male students suggested, obviously finding humor in this situation.
Wilhemhein rocked on his feet and smiled broadly at CJ. “I’m tempted to remove you from the equation, Mr. Caldwell, and allow the two young ladies to work peacefully.”
“That’ll be the fucking day,” CJ grumbled.
“One my aching head would greatly appreciate.” Wilhemhein straightened to his full height. “But I’ll be kind. You pick your lab partner, Mr. Caldwell.”
Spreading his legs carelessly and bouncing one knee up and down, CJ glanced over his shoulder, then looked at the teacher.
“Eenie, meenie, minie, mo, catch a dickhead by the toe. If he hollers let him go, eenie, meenie, minie, mo.” He stormed to his feet and grabbed his backpack.
“I choose the ‘F’, sir,” he started to walk away, ignoring the snickers from the other students.
Easton tipped his chin down to hide his smile.
“Impressive, Mr. Caldwell,” Wilhemhein taunted. “I’m sure Billson would be proud, but what would your mother say?”
That halted CJ. “That’s a low blow.”
“But an accurate one,” the teacher said smugly.
Easton cleared his throat. “Let me talk to him,” he said, having seen enough.
“If school is on your agenda for tomorrow, Mr. Caldwell, please come in with a smile on your face and the gleam of math in your eye.”
CJ stalked out, leaving Easton to follow behind. He caught up to him just as he stormed outside and headed down the walkway to the back of the campus.
“Wait, CJ,” Easton called. “Let’s talk and have a cigarette.”
“It’s a smoke-free campus, Easton,” CJ responded, walking faster.
Although Easton didn’t answer, he dogged CJ’s steps, surprised when he headed to the track field and one of the low-level bleachers, where he sat.
Easton dropped next to him and realized he’d left his cigarettes in his jacket. He noticed one behind each of CJ’s ears.
“If you give me one of your cigarettes, I promise I won’t tell anyone.”