Professor Cline: Redeemed (Professor #2)

“Why, after all these years? You have no reason to contact me at all. You and John can go fuck yourselves.”


He laughed. “There is so much you still don’t know. I have many reasons to stay in contact with you.” He moved toward the door, placing a hand on the knob. “Meet me on Saturday. I’ll text you the time and address. This isn’t a request. I’m sure you’d be very interested in what I have to say.”

With those final words, he opened the door and walked out.

The whole conversation had me on edge, but I couldn’t lie to myself and say I wasn’t curious as to what he was talking about.

My phone beeped with a text message, and I looked down to see one from Emma.

Are you coming today?

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I needed to put Donicko’s visit aside and focus. Being around him sucked all the control I thought I’d possessed out of my body. I was weak around him and he knew it, even though my mask was fully in place. My darkened days crept back into my soul when he was near, and it was something I knew he took great pleasure in.



Looking at the clock, I let out a resigned sigh. I needed to get to class, then figure out what to do. I needed to get the ball rolling, and waiting until Friday wasn’t going to work. I need to meet with Victor tomorrow. The sooner this is over, the sooner I can try to move on.

This was the first time since Mom died that I felt like things could change. The first time any sense of hope coursed through me. It was a good feeling, but I couldn’t dwell on anything. I knew deep down things would get much worse before they got better.

*

The house was quiet. The smell of wood polish took over my senses as I sat at the desk in my office. The day had crept by, and I was unfocused for most of it. I’d caught Emma’s concerned stares as I’d made eye contact around the room, but I ignored her… mostly.

I ended class early, along with the rest of the day’s classes, just to get the fuck out of there. I’d arrived home and walked straight to the bar in my office where I kept my scotch. It was becoming more and more frequent. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I was turning into an alcoholic. I was actually surprised I wasn’t already. But maybe my mind could only focus on one addiction at a time, which I knew wasn’t true.

I picked up my crystal glass and swirled the amber liquid before gulping it all down in one swallow. I closed my eyes and widened my nostrils to breathe in as much air as I could as the pain laced down my throat.

The burn is the best part.

The gratification was gone in an instant, just like the cutting. It was nowhere near the same, but it made me feel.

Placing the glass on my desk, I grabbed my phone and pulled up Victor’s number. I didn’t bother calling him earlier in the day because I knew he’d be in meetings.

I pressed his number and waited as the phone rang, then was picked up on the fourth ring.

“Mason, my boy, what can I do for you?” he answered before muffling the phone. “Sue, hold my calls.”

“Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“No, no, it’s fine. I’m just getting some paperwork together before I leave the office. What can I help you with?”

I sat back in my office chair and made myself comfortable.

“I told you the other day I needed to come talk to you, but I was wondering if you were available tomorrow instead of Friday. I know I didn’t go into detail about why I wanted to see you, but this is a matter that just can’t wait. And I’d rather do it in person than over the phone.”

“Can you give me a little bit of information as to what you are referring to? I do have a busy day tomorrow with a court hearing, and I’m not sure what time I’ll be out of there.”

“It’s about John.”

The line went silent. I knew he probably wanted to ask me more, but after telling him I didn’t want to discuss it over the phone, I knew he wouldn’t pry for more. That wasn’t the way he worked.

I heard the rustling of papers over the phone.

“I’m not going to presume I know what you want to talk about, but if you want to discuss John, I don’t suggest doing it here. We can meet somewhere. Let’s say around two. I should be out by then, but if not, then we could get together later on tomorrow night. Where do you want to go?”

I thought about it and nodded to myself when the idea came to me.

“The Deli Shop on 3rd and 33rd street. I’ll be there at two.”

“That sounds good. I’ll see you then. And Mason?”

“Yeah?”

“Nobody else knows we’re meeting,” he said before he hung up.

It wasn’t a question, but a statement. He didn’t want anyone to know he was meeting me, and I didn’t either. If John found out about it, I could only imagine the complications that would cause for the both of us.

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