3
THE MEETING
The dean’s waiting area was empty, with the exception of the weathered secretary, Gloria, who he supplied with a curt nod. Dayton leaned against the wall beside a pair of club chairs meant for visitors. Mentally, he was bound and gagged and refused to confine himself any further so he stood. He zoned out on Gloria’s fingers manufacturing laborious keystrokes at her desktop computer. The methodical clicking should’ve been calming but his forearms tensed beneath his sleeves as he drowned in the tide of his thoughts.
He felt like a criminal undergoing a trial, unsure if he would walk free with the O’Callaghan girl at his side or if he’d be denied light and contact.
The clunking of boots announced Kenna’s presence before she swept through the doorway. She greeted Gloria and ignored him without effort, standing on the opposite end of the chairs. It was clear she had chosen the spot to have some distance between them and Dayton reveled in the choice.
With her along the same wall, she was easily observable in his peripheral. Dueling French plaits, not one strand out of place. Flared black jeans and a cream blouse. Full lips, taut.
In that limited view, in the sweeping, incomplete glances, she quickened his pulse.
Determination masked her exterior. She was a good little actress, he’d give her that, but he detected what lay beneath. A certain naivete he found irresistible. Even so, he was inclined to believe that her innocence was merely a facade and that brought him immeasurable delight.
Gloria’s whole face broke into a tired smile as she gestured toward the shut door with a trembling hand. “Merino and O’Callaghan, Dean Raza will see you now.”
He smoothed his graphite dress shirt while approaching the arched medieval looking door. Kenna followed at his heels like a lapdog and he rejoiced in her closeness, wholly consumed by the notes of her fragrance and melody of her movements.
Little had changed since Dayton’s last visit. Outdated rugs fought for attention amid the dark hardwood floors. Drapes in the school’s colors adorned each of the many windows in the bizarre hexagonal room. The same man seated behind his cluttered desk, five years past due for retirement.
Dean Raza was a thorn in his side.
The position at Ponderosa had almost slipped through his fingers because of the dean’s hesitance toward his negligible criminal past. Perhaps it went beyond that small yet crucifying detail and he sensed that Dayton was hollow, and that it would be unwise to let a lost man treat his students. Unfortunately for Dean Raza, when he had to select a candidate for the job, there was no better choice than Dayton. It would’ve been ludicrous to sweep him under the rug with his background and credentials.
“Miss O’Callaghan, Dr. Merino, I invite you both to have a seat,” Dean Raza said, gesturing to the mid-century armchairs stationed in front of his desk.
Dayton sunk into his chair. Kenna perched on the edge of hers, a caged bird ready to sing.
It was clear she’d never been in such a situation and he found her anxiety delightful. Her posture was poised, calm, yet she pulled at her wooden saint bracelet.
The front fringes of the dean’s salt and pepper combover fell out of place as he glanced at the paper he held. “This memo reflects that you were the one who requested the appointment, Miss O’Callaghan. What is the nature of your predicament?”
Her mouth opened but her brain lagged behind and her spiel rolled off her tongue, sparing no room for breath. “I have to find placement with someone relating to my field of study for my undergraduate internship this semester. As a psychology student, I thought Dr. Merino would be a safe choice. I suppose I realize now why my classmates weren’t racing me to get their contracts signed. He rejected my offer. Not only that, but without sound reason.” Her chin dipped to her chest in tandem with the lowering of her voice. “Sir, I have unique transportational constraints which prohibit me from seeking out an off-campus alternative. I believe if anyone is given the slot in Dr. Merino’s office, it should be myself since I was the first to proposition him.”
She hadn’t come for chitchat. She had come to secure her position in his office for the next five months.
Kenna was persuasive but he could’ve bested her on his worst of days. For the sake of his unruly lust, it was imperative that she won this particular argument.
“Is this true, doctor?”
“Yes,” Dayton said.
Dean Raza’s thick eyebrows scrunched together. “And tell me why you rejected the contract?”
“As I’m sure you can appreciate, my line of work can be sensitive. It doesn’t seem ethical to let a student eavesdrop on the deeply private matters of her peers. I think it would be in everyone’s best interest if Miss O’Callaghan proceeds with her mentorship search off campus. I’m sure, despite her protests, she can work out another mode of transportation.”
He felt Kenna’s eyes burning holes into his flesh and he relished in her choler. The ball had tumbled into his court, and he had no intention of relinquishing it.
Her nails bit into the armchair’s soft, worn leather.
Kenna hardly knew the man seated beside her, yet he made her blood boil. She’d studied herself to the bone for three and a half years at Ponderosa. This degree program, her future career, meant everything to her.
She squeezed her Saint Rose bracelet and prayed the meeting would soon reach its end. Why, she wondered, would Dr. Merino turn away a passionate, capable student?
Her visage grew pale as droplets of cold sweat percolated at the nape of her neck.
“While I admire the consideration for your patients, Dr. Merino, if my memory serves me correctly, you’ve previously taken on mentees.”