when your name came up in our conversation. Apparently, you’re one of his favorite teachers. I’m not surprised – a pretty, intelligent woman like yourself is just his type. If I were a schoolboy, I think you’d be my favorite, too. I think I’d have all kinds of naughty fantasies about you.” He pauses, letting that lewd comment sink in. Ms. Drysdale doesn’t slam his face into her filing cabinet or lecture him on the patriarchy, which tells me this isn’t an ordinary parent/teacher interview.
He laughs again. “So I thought to myself, while I was visiting this fine educational establishment I’ll drop in to see my good girl Penelope, and make sure she’s keeping well. Are you keeping well? How rude of me not to ask.”
“Please,” she begs. “I’ll get the money. I promise. I just need more time—”
The man tsks. “I don’t think that’s fair, now is it? When you needed my help, I jumped straight into action. I sorted your problem the very same day, did I not?”
She makes a choking noise in her throat. My heart pounds against my chest. I glance along the corridor. There’s no one around. The door to Ms. Drysdale’s office is firmly shut, but I’m standing in front of a corner where supply cupboards have been built up against an older stone wall. There’s a cold draft blowing through the gap between the two, carrying Ms. Drysdale’s conversation with it. I flatten my back against the stone and press my ear closer.
“If I fulfilled my end of our bargain, it’s only fair that you provide what you owe in a timely fashion. You know what will happen if you’re late again. But I’m not without a conscience. I’ve been watching you closely. I know your situation.” He tsks again. “That weasel of an ex of yours has left you in a bit of a mess, hasn’t he? I abhor men like that. They should treat their women like the queens they are and protect them from the world’s problems, instead of causing them. Don’t you worry, Penelope. Don’t fret. I’m a creative man. I’m here because I think we can come up with a solution to help you pay this debt.”
I hold my breath. The air drops out of the building. I know this conversation. I understand perfectly what Mr. Smooth in there isn’t saying. I’ve heard a hundred times of it a hundred different times, whenever I hid in my father’s office and listened to him argue with his brother. This is exactly what Daddy was trying to keep out of the family business, and what Brutus wanted to invite in.
Someone is trying to make my favorite teacher join the skin market.
When Ms. Drysdale speaks, it’s with a power I’ve never heard her wield before. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”
“An intelligent woman like you? I think you follow me perfectly. You know the business I’m in. I deal in all types of pleasure – your ex got you into this mess by indulging his pleasure, perhaps you need to embrace your own to get out of it? I have a clientele with exclusive tastes who’ll eat you right up, especially if you pull the buttoned-up teacher act on them. Mmmm, yes. You’d be a premium product, commanding a high price. It would only take a few clients to square us up, no trouble on my end. You might even enjoy yourself.”
Invisible bugs crawl over my skin. The box of my memories clatters as the darkness inside pushes to escape. I feel flashes of it flay my skin – the hand pinning me down, the saccharine tang of alcohol and blood, the words rasped against my ear.
Let me show you a man, baby girl.
“Thank you for the kind offer, but I don’t think I’ll need to take you up on it.” Mrs. Drysdale uses the clipped tone she saves for students who don’t hand in their assignments. “I’ll have your money for you by Christmas, as we agreed.”
“Very well.” A chair scrapes back. “Tis a pity. You’d make much more working for me than you do wrangling these brats. If you change your mind—”
“I won’t.”
I duck into the janitor’s closet just as Ms. Drysdale’s door swings open and a man steps out. My heart pounds as I wait for him to yell at me, but he whistles a jaunty tune as he moves along the hall.
He hasn’t seen me.
But I’ve left the closet door open a crack, and I can see him.