I haven’t answered him.
I don’t plan on answering him. It wouldn’t really be so different from our normal conversations. The kid is irritating, rattling off connections and demands as if I were his damn butler rather than his advisor. He may have the dean and other carefully selected members of administration in his pocket, but the board of trustees consists of people I’ve known for most of my life.
I fix my cup of coffee and stare across the way at him. Jackson’s beady little eyes stare through his round-rimmed glasses at the screen in front of him. The thinnest of his facial structure meets at a point in the center of his profile, forming a weaslish cone with his nose at the tip. With the exception of these traits, he doesn’t look like a powermad sociopath. In fact, he looks quite polished with a clean shave, carefully groomed hair and an outfit that is only missing the argyle sweater for the full preppy stereotype effect.
“I know what you’re doing,” Jackson says, without looking up from his phone.
“What are you talking about?”
He stops what he’s doing and sets down the phone. His eyes level over mine in a direct threat. “I know that you have some little fling going on with Aly McKenzie.”
I contemplate hurling myself across the table at him. Nobody would notice if he went missing, would they? “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I think you need to worry about your proposal and stop focusing on other students.”
“Iamworried about my proposal,” he says, his tone mocking and clipped.
Those beady eyes of his narrow into thin slits, glaring back at me through a veil that is half feigned reflection and half aggression. “I don’t think I’m being given a fair advantage here. Considering I’m not the right gender and all.”
I grit my teeth.
So, it isn’t just Aly. It’s all female students he’s accusing me of sleeping with. “You’re treading on some very thin ice, Jackson.”
“Is that how it works with all your decisions? The prettiest girl to catch your eye is the one who passes the course? Gets the apprenticeship? Or is it just the easiest?”
The same feeling of launching myself over the table tugs me forward. I disguise the rising frustration in my chest with a stealthy step or two toward him. Grabbing him by the collar and pummeling him into unconsciousness won’t help the situation. It certainly won’t make me seem guiltless in anyone’s eyes.
“Those are some bold words coming from someone who needs my stamp of approval to get what he wants.” The cold glare I learned from my father is enough to cause the kid to shrink in his seat. The victory is short-lived, however. Jackson straightens as if emboldened by some new streak of confidence. I want nothing more than to slap the self-assured grin off his face.
But the look I see there concerns me.
Does he know something? Or is he just trying to confirm his suspicions?
“You’d better have some cold hard evidence to support your accusations, if you want to go around talking to your professors like that,” I add. “And considering there’s nothing going on between Miss McKenzie and me, I doubt you’ll find it.”
“Oh I have proof.”
I freeze. “I’d love to see it.”
Jackson twists his phone around for me to see the photo on his screen. The outside looks vaguely familiar. A bright blue light in the background reveals a partial name for the location. The people in the photo are unmistakable, though. I’m holding Aly and talking to Lyndsey.
Fuck. The Blue Indigo.
“You know, there are a lot of people in San Francisco who recognize you,” Jackson’s voice penetrates my thoughts. “I guess that’s why you moved out here. Away from the city.”
My fingers clench around the handle of my coffee cup. I’m already devising an excuse for his sudden disappearance. I’d be doing the world a favor honestly.
Still, if this is all the proof he has, it may not be so difficult to disprove it. I talked to Lionel that night about the incident. Even the doctor who checked on Aly could confirm she’d been drugged. These were not two-bit college students playing with fire. They were high-ranking members of the community. No one would believe someone like Jackson Riley, ambitious and opportunistic as he is.
“This doesn’t prove anything,” I say and push the phone back. “Miss McKenzie was drugged, and I helped her get home safely. The owner of the nightclub and the physician who treated her that night can attest to that story. I never laid a hand on her.”
Jackson shrugs and wrinkles his features in a tight grimace. “And do you offer this service to all of your students? It seems to me you went pretty far out of your way just to help someone you know on a strictly professional basis.”
“I’m not going to leave a girl to fend for herself when she’s in that situation. I’m not a monster.” Which was true. Who would stand by and simply let something like that happen? The only difference was that Aly had texted me first. And if there hadn't been something between us already, she may have never contacted me in the first place. “This doesn’t prove anything.” I move to leave. He’s wasted too much of my time already. “I’m calling the board in the morning. You’re done.”
“And what about your late night visit to Miss McKenzie’s house?”
I stop, twisting slowly to see him over my shoulder. I look down at his phone, still in its place on the table. “What, no pictures?”
“No.”