The Player Next Door

“I wasn’t defending you. I was merely pointing out the obvious.” She stabs at the contents in the container—something flesh-pink, gelatinous, and smelling strongly of vinegar and chemicals.

I struggle not to cringe. “Still. Thanks.” No longer hungry, I rinse the last of my yogurt down the sink and toss the empty container in the recycling bin.

“I’m sorry for what I did to you when you were my student.”

I turn to find Bott staring ahead and chewing, a serene expression on her face. For a moment, I question if I imagined her apology, if she didn’t just address the twenty-one-year-old elephant in the room.

“So, you understand that what you did was wrong?”

She swallows her mouthful. “I always knew it was wrong.”

I frown. This sounds more like a non-apology.

“I was angry and desperate, and more concerned about my child being hurt by her father than I was about acting inappropriately. I knew what I was doing. I made a choice. We all make choices.”

“I could have reported you. You could have lost your job.”

“Yes, I could have. I knew there was a risk.” She turns that hawkish gaze on me. “You’re infatuated with a man and more concerned about finding love than you are about protecting his child’s happiness. You also know what you’re doing and the risks, and you’ve made your choice.”

Any goodwill I felt toward Bott for fending off Heidi evaporates. “This is not the same at all,” I retort angrily. “I’m not abusing my power. I’m not cornering Cody in a room, showing him pictures of my husband and scaring him. I’m not going to hurt him.”

“You hope not,” she says coolly.

The bell to end recess will go off in ten minutes. I’d rather spend that time anywhere but in here, being scolded by a woman who is far from worthy of doling out advice on integrity.

I move for the door.

“Your mother was attracted to married men because she craved how it felt to win them over. To make them break their commitments.”

I could argue that those men weren’t very committed in the first place, but that would sound like I’m defending my mother’s actions, so I stay silent.

“She was more concerned about her own happiness than she was about her child’s.”

I know what Bott is getting at, but she’s wrong. “I’m not my mother.”

“But what choice will you make? What choice will he make? Time will tell.”

Bott said that same thing the first day I saw her here. It’s as irritating now as it was then.

I watch her as she stabs at a hard, fleshy chunk and holds it up, pondering it.

I can’t help my cringe this time. “What the hell are you eating? It looks like a fetus.”

“Pickled pigs’ feet. Would you like to try some?” she says in that eerie monotone of hers, unperturbed.

I shake my head. “No, I’m good, thanks.” Does she go out of her way to shock people?

I rush out of there and back to my classroom.

But Bott’s words trail me the entire way.

“Mild or spicy tonight, sir?” The waitress grins with familiarity at Cody.

“Spicy, please.” Cody takes a long slurp of his Coke.

Shane wasn’t kidding when he said the kid is a picky eater. Apparently, chicken wings are the only thing he’ll eat when they go out. The staff had him pegged the second he walked in.

“That sounds good. I’ll do the same. And fries.” Shane closes his menu and passes it to the blond bombshell with nothing more than a polite glance. Meanwhile, I’m ready to pass her a napkin so she can dab at her drool.

With our orders taken, she leaves us, swinging her hips all the way to the computer.

Shane frowns curiously at me. “What’s that smile for?”

“Nothing.” Just wondering how a woman as jealous as Penelope wasn’t arrested for clawing out eyes on the regular. My gaze wanders through the bustling dining area of Route Sixty-Six. It’s seven o’clock, still a few hours before the late-night crowd rolls in and the discounted shots begin flowing. The band hasn’t even arrived to set up yet. At this time of day, it’s families who bring life to the restaurant.

And to anyone unaware, Shane, Cody, and I look like a happy little family. I’m guessing Penelope would lose her shit if she walked in and saw us.

When Shane suggested that the three of us go out to eat, I balked. “Are you sure?” I asked. “What if someone sees us?”

“So what? It’s not a big deal. Let them see us,” he said, scooping up my hand and pressing my knuckles to his lips.

My knees weakened, and everything else—the episode in the staff room, Bott’s words, our commitment to keep this quiet while I’m Cody’s teacher—was forgotten.

But now that we’re here, I’m afraid that was a mistake.

“Hi, Ms. Reed,” Jenny Byrd chirps, stopping at our table, her hand flapping in a quick wave. Her stunning sea-foam green eyes shift to her classmate. “Hey, Cody.”