Her Dirty Teachers - Mika Lane Page 0,46

Chase said. “You actually chased off the witch.”

I looked at Benno and Jamie, who were stifling laughter.

I had to smile, too. It had felt great to goad that nasty woman.

“Oh my god, I never thought I’d see someone get the last word on her,” Benno said, now shaking with laughter.

“Senna, hats off to you. That was fucking awesome,” Jamie said.

I shrugged. A girl could only put up with so much shit. “But Benno, what did she mean you were going to have to answer for something?”

Shifting in his chair, he looked down at the table for a moment, then shrugged. “I don’t know. Must be something about back when she was stalking me. She’s a psycho.”

Well, first thing on my list for tomorrow was to try to get a new academic advisor. There was no doubt my smart-assed remarks had sealed my fate with Ms. Abalone.

And the second thing on my list was to think about the guys’ offer.

Chapter 36

PROFESSOR JAMIE CARTER

After our eventful dinner, we all headed over to Club V. Not because Senna had to work, but because the club was having a private party for its regular members. Every dancer got to invite a few of her favorites.

And Senna had chosen us three guys.

I was looking forward to it. I really was. There would be no entertainment, per se—it wasn’t about that. It was more a chance for the dancers to mingle with some of the club’s long-standing regulars and, I guess, make them feel appreciated. An awesome idea, if you asked me.

“Godiva, this is Benno, Jamie, and Chase,” she said to a lovely little blonde I’d seen dancing there before, and who came rushing up to us the moment we arrived.

Beaming, she bounced up and down in her long silvery gown. “I’ve heard so much about all of you.”

She had?

“Now, which one is which?” she asked, tapping her chin and scrutinizing us.

Senna dropped her head back and laughed as a waitress thrust overflowing champagne flutes in each of our hands.

“Guess, Godiva. See if you can figure it out,” she said.

We guys smiled at each other. Did I look like anything other than a math teacher? Shit, I hoped so. I didn’t have a pocket protector or my pants pulled up to my chin.

“Hmmm. Now let me see.”

She took a couple steps back, then walked behind us, looking us up and down.

“I feel like a piece of meat,” Benno fake-whined.

Senna burst out laughing again. “Godiva, just guess! It’s not like there’s a prize or anything.”

Godiva raised an eyebrow at Senna, who shrugged knowingly.

There was a prize. For Senna, anyway.

“Okay,” Godiva said after a sip of champagne, “you are the English teacher,” she said, pointing at Chase.

Strike one.

She looked at Senna. “Am I right?”

Senna shrugged. “Keep going. You’re not done.”

Godiva rolled her eyes. “Some friend you are. Not even helping me,” she said dramatically.

“You’ve chosen the English teacher. Now choose Math and French,” Chase said, laughing.

“You,” she said, pointing at me, “are the French teacher. And you” —she pointed at Benno— “are the Math teacher.”

Strikes two and three.

Senna jumped up and down with delight. God, she was cute.

“Godiva, darling, you got them all wrong,” Senna said.

She frowned, then laughed. “Well, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you guys have a good time.”

And she skittered off into the crowd.

We followed Senna into the heart of the party, where beautiful women chatted with their favorite customers and everyone was smiling and engaged. A few ladies were dancing on the stage with men—not entertaining, just dancing—and over in a corner two women were showing a bunch of guys some of their moves so they could give exotic dancing a try. From where I stood, it was a hysterical performance of awkward clumsiness.

“Well, hello,” a tall reed of a woman with mannishly cropped hair said, extending her hand.

Senna’s eyes brightened. “Guys, this is Zin, the owner of Club V. And my boss, of course.”

“Nice to see you gentlemen. Thank you for being good customers, and for taking such good care of our girl here,” she said, gesturing toward Senna.

I didn’t know what I’d expected the party to be, but it had a warm, happy feel to it. All the ladies were charming, and the men entirely respectful. But then, it was a private party, and they weren’t about to include difficult or asshole customers.

“You guys want to see the dressing room? Where all the magic happens?” Senna asked with a twinkle in her eyes.

She led us to a room that