I give her a smile before returning to my reason for telling her all this in the first place, “Do you think I really should go over there? I mean, this is a father of one of my students. If I got caught, I would be fired. It’s in the rule book and everything.”
I’m not a rule breaker. In fact, I’m the one that usually volunteers to make the rulebook! I volunteer for clubs that pick the hall monitors or the after school program for those who want to participate in student council. The idea of getting caught at a parent’s house after school hours or, worse, getting caught being intimate with him, would destroy not only my career but also my reputation! I couldn’t risk that.
“Are you seriously worried about being caught? What parent is gonna go over to a motorcycle clubhouse late at night, see you and him together, and then get the nerve up to report it to Ms. Western?”
Erin’s right. Where Maddie lives, no parent would dare to go. At least not the type of parent who would actually rat me out. If I were going to where my rich students lived with the parent’s all in my business, then I might have issues. But the whole clubhouse thing presents an entirely different issue…
“Okay, but what about this clubhouse thing? Do you know what they do there? Drugs, sex, violence… do you think it’s safe?”
Erin pauses. I’ve got her there. Neither of us are exactly bad girls, though Erin runs a bit wilder. Money allows her to do that. But even she would hesitate if some burly motorcycle man invited her back to his seedy den of illegal activity. However, she seems to have a change of heart as she looks at me with a chipper, self-satisfied grin, “Bring your pepper spray and phone. If you get into trouble, text me the number 8, and I’ll be there in seconds flat. Or, I’ll call the police. Problem solved!”
I can’t argue with that. And really, I don’t want to. After Cal left me wanting on that desk, that build up hadn’t disappeared. It has only grown. I want to finish it off and to see what it is like to cross over to the dark side. I’ve gotten a taste of wild, and I want the full bite no matter the danger ahead.
I head up to my room and change into the sexiest, yet not desperate outfit I can find. I don’t want to look like I want this, and I still want to come off as a professional. After all, he did say that he wanted to discuss Maddie’s progress. That’s reason enough to pick a knee length dress. But his magic tongue is the reason it’s strapless with a sweetheart neckline. His fingers dictate my need for ruby red lips and my hair tied back in a tight ponytail.
With Erin’s approval, I’m off. The drive takes me to a part of Washington City that I have yet to venture. No streetlights, no one walking on the street. The houses are either boarded up or sealed shut with windows and doors with multiple locks. I park my car under the one dim, flickering light next to an ancient phone booth and press the lock button.
Cal is waiting for me at the front door. He leans against the wooden, chipped frame, his arms crossed coolly in front of his chest. He’s still got that tight black t-shirt and dark jeans on from earlier today.
“You’re early, you know.” I can’t tell by the tone of his voice if he’s angry or not. Then again, he’s a hard guy to read even when he’s being obvious. His body language is just always steamed.
I try to make a joke, “To be early is to be on time. To be on time is to be late. To be late is to be—”
“Dead.” He laughs almost manically, “My dad used to say that when I showed up five minutes after a meeting had started.”
“A meeting? A family business?”
“Something like that.”
Cal ushers me inside to a small front room where a few men in black leather jackets and huge motorcycle boots are playing cards loudly. The smell of smoke fills the room almost instantly when Cal closes it behind me, sealing me in. Behind the men are two women, cleaning up beer cans and bottles discarded on the floors and couches. Compared to them in their tight jean shorts and cut off tops, I feel so out of place. Yet no one even takes notice of me.
I follow Cal back towards a kitchen where Maddie is scribbling on a drawing notepad. When she sees me, her eyes light up. She holds up her notebook proudly for me to see, “Miss Springer! Check this out!”
I study the drawing she’s done. It’s of a sunset and an open road. In the center is a motorcycle riding towards it. The drawing itself is excellent, way advanced for her age. It has perfect shading and intricate lines. I’m impressed. “This is amazing, Maddie!” I say earnestly, “I had no idea you were such a great artist!”
“Thanks! Dad got me these pencils and drawing pads for Christmas last year. It’s what the pros use!” She looks up at Cal with a wide smile. This is the first time I’ve seen her look at him with anything but fear. And to see her do it here, in this run down house full of men screaming and drinking, is way out of what I'd expected.