Day 6
Twelve hours later, I’m in a classroom in Phoenix.
It’s been six years since I was last on a college campus, and it was the community college in Flagstaff, so I enter this room with some lofty notion of what sort of place a Mafia princess would attend. But it’s the same tiny, scribbled-on desks and linoleum floors, an old podium and a dry-erase board that doesn’t fully erase. It smells like cleaning products and sweat, and there’s a fan that I’m fairly sure is spewing more dust than air as it oscillates in the corner.
Students are rearranging desks from a circle to the more traditional rows and leaving as I walk in. Three are at the podium in a line to speak to the professor. Reggie Harris, according to the syllabus I scanned as Ana begged me not to come here. I wait patiently by the door as the students plead their cases for the same thing I’m here to plead Ana’s case for. They’re all dismissed, giving Harris the air of a formidable opponent, but he’s wearing a beige turtleneck, and I’m pretty sure Kseniya could take him in a fight.
Granted, she’s scrappy as fuck.
He doesn’t notice me until the students are gone and he’s packing his stuff up. He gives me barely a glance and says, “You can wait to clean until I’m done.”
Asshole just called me a janitor. Not that I personally look down on janitors, but beige turtleneck obviously does. What a fuck.
“I’m here for you, actually,” I tell him, keeping my tone pleasant and aggressively American.
“Well, I’d certainly remember if you were one of my students, and the last day to drop was last week. So if you’re one of the students who enrolled but never showed, it’s too late now.”
“I’m not your student. Analiese Lombardo is.”
He finally scrutinizes me. His eyes go down and back up. I didn’t dress to intimidate him, but even in track pants and the hoodie Ana was wearing yesterday when I got home, I’m enough to make him nervous. His throat bobs as he adjusts his glasses.
“Lacey’s missed two classes without contacting me and had an assignment due today. She’s a good student. One of my favorites, actually. But she knows the rules.”
He tries hard to maintain his confidence as he speaks, and it’s obvious he’s a washed-up actor from the way he projects, but it’s not enough to hide his nerves from me. I approach him slowly, doing nothing to be overtly menacing, but it’s enough to have sweat beading on his upper lip by the time the only thing between us is the podium.
“Analiese is a good student,” I agree. I saw her transcripts on the long ride down here. “Circumstances are outside of her control. She will make up missed work.”
“She won’t,” he counters, and I have to give him credit for standing his ground. He seems to have realized he shouldn’t have taken his initial tone with me and is still fighting for what he believes in. “I don’t make the rules, Mr. . .”
“Baranov,” I supply for him.
“Mr. Baranov. But I follow them. Unless she has an approved reason for her absence and has submitted the paperwork, I cannot excuse her or accept late work.”
“What are the approved reasons?” I ask, debating if it’s worth concocting a tale so I don’t have to argue further. She said she’d still pass the class if she missed two weeks, barely, but I’m not letting her GPA get docked because of this.
“Without prior approval? Bereavement and medical emergency. Both need documentation for it.”
I drum my fingers on the back of his podium as we stare each other down. I’m sure he’s expecting me to pull some shit with the medical emergency to try to get out of whatever the documentation would be. Instead, I say, “How about kidnapping?”
He blinks rapidly, like it’ll somehow change the words I’ve said. After a lot of thinking, he clears his throat. “Has she been kidnapped, Mr. Baranov?”
“Is that a sufficient reason to accept a late assignment and disregard her absences?”
“Mr. Baranov,” he says, his voice lowering and his eyes flitting between me and the door. The funny thing is I don’t even think he’s plotting to flee. I think he’s genuinely concerned. “Do you need me to call the cops for you?”
I lean in, looking up at him through eyes I know can be terrifying as I grin wickedly. “She’s perfectly safe, and I’ll have her back in her seat for Tuesday after next.”
Now his hand inches toward his briefcase.
I slam my hand down over his. “Accept her late work, ignore her absences. In exchange, I’ll keep quiet about your name change and what you were up to in your twenties, Bradley.”
Ana’s transcripts weren’t the only things I researched on the drive to Phoenix.
He swallows again but nods. “I’ll t–take her assignment whenever she’s ready.”
I straighten up and beam at him. He looks about to piss his pants, so I won’t terrorize him further. The janitor doesn’t need that mess. “Good. Great. Pleasure meeting you, Harris.” I start to leave but then glance back, startling him so much he hiccups. “Is there a bakery nearby? A place you think Ana would like something from? I want to surprise her.”
“The P–per–perfect Pearl,” he says in perfect imitation of the pig from the old American kid cartoons. “Right off campus. And, Mr. Baranov? Auditions are next week for our Spring Production. Lacey’s signed up. I can’t do anything if she’s not here.”
I nod. “Then I’ll see you next week, Harris. Thanks for letting me know.”