9
Sorry Sack of Shit
Eastlyn Hatfield is avoiding me, and it’s pissing me off.
There’s been almost a week of this crap, and I’m over it. Ever since our night on the phone, I expected a turning point, a mutual step forward. Instead, what I’m being given is the cold shoulder. Sure, she smiles and says hello, not completely shutting me out, but it’s not how I saw things going after making her come last Friday with just the sound of my voice.
Eastlyn’s certainly making me work for it. Leaving the staff room suddenly whenever I enter, dodging me by not coming into the main office when she knows I’ll be there, and—worst of all—ignoring all of my calls and Facebook messages. Luckily, we’re having parent-teacher interviews tonight and my escape artist won’t be able to sneak out from under me like she has every day this week.
Walking into the hallway, I offer a goodnight to the few lingering parents I pass by as parent-teacher night dwindles to a close. Knowing Eastlyn’s the last teacher holding an interview, I take the opportunity to head upstairs, hoping I’ll get there just as she wraps up, and that she’ll agree to grab a late dinner and have a talk about things. Mainly, about how badly I want her under me, repeatedly.
But opening the steel door to the second floor, I’m immediately on guard when I notice her classroom door is closed. There’s no reason to have a classroom door closed during interviews. The chairs for parents to sit in and wait their turns have been strategically placed far enough away from each classroom to ensure sufficient privacy for those inside.
Glancing down at my clipboard, I search for Eastlyn’s interview log. My pace quickens along with my pulse when I see that fucker’s name slotted in as the last of her interviews tonight: Neil Foley.
Motherfucker.
Standing outside her door, I peer through the glass, making sure I stay out of sight, ready to intervene if necessary. It’s not like I can just barge in and lose my shit like I want to. Mr. Foley is a parent after all, and from the sounds of it, he’s just arrived. Channelling my inner professional, I decide to wait and give him the chance to discuss his son Mitchell’s progress with Eastlyn like a gentleman. Make no mistake, though. If things start to go south, my inner caveman will happily deal with Neil Foley as I see fit.
“Yeah, sorry. Meeting ran late. Can I still have a few minutes?” I hear him ask as he walks closer to her, and I fucking hate it.
“Yes, of course,” Eastlyn says, nodding politely. “Please, come sit down.” She gestures to a chair at the small conference table and starts opening what I assume is Mitch’s work portfolio. She places it on the table in front of where he’s sitting before moving around to take her seat on the opposite side.
I’m not usually the jealous or overbearing type, but there’s something about the way this guy looks at her that I just don’t like. It raises all my hackles, all of my red flags. Between the scene at the laundromat and his incessant calling, I don’t trust this man’s intentions with Eastlyn at all. Knowing she would have been alone up here with him if I hadn’t come along makes me feel unsettled. I make a mental note to revaluate how we organize these nights. Maybe we need to take more safety precautions; you just never know. I wouldn’t want any of my teachers to end up in a compromising position, especially her.
“Thanks,” he says, and I see him checking her out as she sits across from—rather than beside—him.
“Good girl,” I mutter, happy she didn’t park herself beside the creep. Distance between them is exactly what I need to see.
“Here are some of Mitch’s recent work samples we can go over, if you’d like,” Eastlyn says, leaning in, and I almost break the door down, seeing the hint of cleavage she’s just given him a glimpse of. Realizing her mistake, she sits back up again. She discreetly adjusts her blouse and waits while he scans the pile of papers.
The thing is, he doesn’t seem interested in them in the least. His attention goes straight back to Eastlyn. He closes the folder. Seeing Eastlyn’s face scrunching up, I know she isn’t impressed. I can tell she’s getting nervous, too. Her tells are showing. She’s eyeing her notes on her iPad, running her hands over the lap of her skirt, and she’s biting her lip.
“I’m right outside, baby. No need to worry,” I whisper, keeping a keen eye on Foley.
“Is there anything in particular which concerns you…” I hear her ask, adding, “…Mr. Foley? Let’s discuss any issues, then we can make the plans we may need. I know a few areas where Mitch is strug—”
Foley cuts her off.
I can tell by the sudden pink tinge in her cheeks something has been said, something I can’t hear, and I can tell it was something she didn’t like. The look of shock on her face makes me see red. Gripping the door handle, I’m about ready to shut this shit down—for good—even though there’s a chance that Eastlyn won’t be happy I’m intervening rather than giving her the chance to hold her own.
Shit, I’m torn. Deciding to give her the opportunity to deal with this douche canoe herself, I keep my hand on the door so I can be ready in a heartbeat.
“I guess the biggest concern I have is the way you keep denying what’s between us,” he deadpans more forcefully, looking her straight in the eye. Thankfully, she has her table positioned so I can see their profiles, allowing me to keep an eye out for any sudden movements.
“Excuse me?” I hear her say, her tone not leaving any room for argument. It’s becoming more and more apparent that this asshole didn’t come to discuss his kid. He came to discuss Eastlyn.
“Tell me why, Eastlyn? Don’t you think I’d give you just what you need?” Neil Foley says, reaching out and covering her hand with his. She snatches it away, and stands so abruptly that her chair tips back. She says, “I think you’d better go. This is completely unprofessional, and as I’ve said before, I’m not interest—”
“You heard her, Mr. Foley. You’re finished here,” I say, cutting Eastlyn off, because as soon as his hand touched hers, I lost it. Moving to stand beside her, I reach around her with my arm, and rest it possessively around her waist, “and do not think of contacting Ms. Hatfield again. I’ve been standing outside listening the whole time, and am fully prepared to do what I need to get you served with a trespass notice. I’ll make sure that you can’t set foot on this property again,” I say, grinding my teeth.
“You can’t do that. I haven’t done anything wrong! I’m not harassing her,” he sneers, and I feel my grip tense on Eastlyn’s waist.
“No? I think between the stack of your daily messages, and tonight’s meeting, I’ll have more than enough grounds to make it happen.”
When he runs his hands through his hair, I know I have him.
“East—” he tries, but I cut him off.
“No. Do not address her. You address me. Nothing you can say justifies your actions. You’re making things uncomfortable, and it stops now.” I take a step forward, allowing my stature to intimidate the shorter, thinner man. “I suggest you leave before you make things worse for yourself.”
“Shit,” he shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I only wanted a date, I didn’t mean any harm.”
“Clearly, she isn’t interested, and you’re struggling to comprehend that. You’re done, Mr. Foley. And I do not want to see you near Ms. Hatfield again. If you do, you won’t only be dealing with the police and school board, you’ll be dealing with me,” I say, and hear her gasping behind me. Which is good, because I know she knows I mean every word. I’ve always been protective of Eastlyn as Keaton’s little sister, but now, more than ever, I realize just how far I’d go for her.
“Okay, okay. I’m going,” he says, and raises his hand in surrender. “Please don’t ban me, my kid goes here. I’ll stay away. I didn’t mean to scare you. I wouldn’t ever want that.” He looks at Eastlyn when he speaks, and she nods her head.
“I’m just not interested, Mr. Foley, and I need you to realize that,” she says, looking between us, and I feel my shoulders relax as the man utters another apology and makes his way out the door.
“Hold up. I’ll walk you out,” I say. Turning to Eastlyn, I ask if she’s okay. She nods, and I tell her I’ll be right back.
“Pack up your things. We’re leaving as soon as I get back.”
“All right. Thank you, Coy,” she says, and it kills me not to take her into my arms right now, but the last thing I need is to get into a pissing contest with the way Foley is eyeing us from the hall.
“Always, baby,” I lean in and say low, “and I’m taking you for dinner after. We need to talk.”
“I’d like that,” she says, and I gift her with a dimpled smile.
“Me too,” I say, rubbing her arm before escorting the asshole out to his car.
It takes twenty minutes before we can leave because I want to make sure I have all my ducks in a row where Neil Foley is concerned. I place a call to Bella Moretti, my superintendent, to get directions and arrange next steps. Then, after placing a few more necessary calls, I drive behind Eastlyn to Brass Tapps, where we grab a booth and a much-needed drink.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” I ask, bringing my beer to my lips.
“I am. I didn’t think he was actually going to do anything. I didn’t mean to stand up so quickly. I was just kind of startled, and wanted to be able to get to the door if I needed to, you know?” she says, and her cheeks turn a little pink.
“Hey, don’t be embarrassed. That was a smart thing to do. Why wasn’t the door open? I’ve been meaning to ask you.”
“He closed it behind him when he came in. I told him there wasn’t a need, that no one was up there but us, but he left it closed. I should have re-opened it myself, I guess,” she shrugs, and bites her lip.
“It’s not your fault, Sprinkles. Trust me,” I say, leaning towards her, forcing her eyes to meet mine. “I’m serious. If it was, you know I’d tell you,” I smile, and she laughs.
“Yeah, you would, too, eh? You do like to point out my flaws.”
“Well, there aren’t many, so I have to get my shots in when I can,” I say, reaching across the table and linking our fingers.
“Thanks for being you, Coy. I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you. I was a little embarrassed. I’ve wanted this for so long.” She looks up at me, her dark lashes making her green eyes sparkle, and my heart is suddenly thumping in my chest with her admission.
“Me too. Remind me to tell you about that sometime. Tonight isn’t the best night for revelations, though, is it?”
“No, I guess you’re right. Did you see his face? It’s like he really didn’t think he did anything wrong. I can’t stop wondering if I might have led him on somehow, or given him a wrong signal,” she says, picking up her own beer and taking a long sip, then biting a fry. And this is exactly why tonight needs to be about her. As much as she’s pretending she’s fine, she isn’t.
“Can I ask one more question?” I say. “Then we’ll move on to movies and sports, okay?”
“Sure. You know me and sports,” she jokes, grinning and crossing her index finger over her middle, in the universal sign for “tight”, and it makes me bark out a laugh. Yeah, my girl is going to be just fine. A little shook up, but I know she’s strong and once she runs over the night in her mind, she’ll see it wasn’t anything she did.
“Kami obviously knows what’s been going on with Foley?” I ask, and she nods in confirmation. “Why didn’t she stay with you tonight?”
“She was planning on it, but her sister, Jane called. She blew a tire and was stranded on Victoria Street. Kami told her she couldn’t come for her at first, but then her last interview cancelled and, honestly, I didn’t think she needed to wait around an extra hour just to be with me, so it was silly for her not to go and help Jane.”
I mull it over. “Yeah. I suppose I would’ve told her to go, too.”
“I knew Neil was persistent, but I wasn’t expecting it to go the way it did. To be honest, if I’d been really concerned, I would have invited you to sit in on the interview.”
It makes me happy to know that she would want to use me for that. Being principal, one of my roles is to always back up and support my staff. Sometimes parents feel they can speak to a teacher as if he or she is working for the parents alone, so I make sure my staff knows I’m always available to sit in or pop by, if needed.
“Good. Glad you know I’m here if you need me,” I say, adding, “in any capacity.”
“Happy to know. I really liked using you the other night,” she winks, and I find myself laughing.
By the end of the evening, she holds me close in the parking lot, thanking me again. I kiss the top of her forehead, even though it’s her lips I’d rather go after. But, again, it’s not the night for that. I hop in my own car and follow her home, making sure she gets in the door safely before waving goodnight to her when she peeks out her window.