Professor Feelgood (Page 26)

“You sacrificed seven-hundred grand to annoy me?”

“Oh, but princess, the value of annoying you is priceless. And besides, you can’t talk. You’re proposing sacrificing a major career promotion to avoid me.”

He has a point, but no promotion is worth the amount of angst working with him would bring.

“There’ll be other promotions,” I say, with a lack of conviction.

He looks up as if praying for patience, then back to me. “Well, you’re stuck with this one, because I sacrificed more money than I’ve ever dreamed of today, so you could help me write a goddamn book. Not someone who’s never met me. Not someone who doesn’t know every single fucked-up thing about me. You. So stow whatever shit you have left over from our past and bring your A-game, because if I crash and burn on this thing, I’m taking you with me.”

We glare at each other for a few seconds, but it’s clear that no matter what I do, I’m not changing his mind. He really is the most stubborn ass I’ve ever met.

Well, screw it. I give it a week of us working together before he realizes what a mammoth mistake he’s made and begs Serena for a different editor. If that happens, then I’d get to keep the promotion and my sanity.

This isn’t over.

I break eye contact and slip off his jacket before holding it out to him. “Fine, then. I guess we’re done here.”

“Don’t be stupid, Asha. You’ll freeze. Give it back to me tomorrow.”

“No, thank you. Besides, the stench of your cologne is giving me a headache.”

That’s not even a little true. Whatever mannish scent he uses is divine. Damn him straight to hell for smelling so good.

With a weary shake of his head, he grabs the coat. “Fine. Can’t wait to see you gush about me in front of your bosses in the morning.”

“Well, I did do that year in drama club. I have some experience with pretending.”

He throws me one last glare before turning away and striding down the street. He’s only gotten a dozen yards when he comes to a dead halt, and for a second I think he’s going to come back and yell at me some more. But after a few tense seconds, he clenches and unclenches his hands and then continues on his way.

Oh, that went so very well. Good job, Ash. You should join the UN Peacekeepers.

Angry, embarrassed, and more than a little annoyed at myself for falling back into old confrontational habits, I stare at his back until he disappears. Then I drop my head and let out a noisy breath, which blooms into an expanding cloud in the cold air.

I wrap my arms around myself and look back the way I came. I’m several blocks from the bar now, and I have to decide whether I should brave the cold to go back and grab my coat, or go down the stairwell right in front of me to the warmth of the subway station.

I decide on the latter.

I can always call the bar and see if I can retrieve it tomorrow. If only regaining my dignity in the face of tonight’s epic professional meltdown was so simple.

NINE

____________________

The Butthole Next Door

EVEN THOUGH MY SUBWAY stop is only an eight-minute walk from my apartment, by the time I get home, I’m frozen to the bone. As I shiver through the front door and into the living room, I’m surprised to find Eden and Joanna there, halfway through a bottle of Shiraz as they watch a dating show.

Eden glances at me with concern when I hightail it into my bedroom to grab my blanket. Within seconds, she appears in my doorway.

“Hey, what happened to you? How did the meeting go with the professor? Was he as hot as you thought? Want some wine?”

I wrap the cover around my shoulders and kick off my shoes. “To answer your rapid-fire questions in order: Forgot my jacket; horribly; hell, no; and fuck, yes.”

I shuffle out and collapse onto the couch next to Joanna as Eden grabs another glass from the kitchen.

“What do you mean horribly?” Joanna asks, as she pulls her knees up to give me more room. “Did you two not get along?”

“Not in the least.” I can still feel the tension in my muscles. God, what a debacle.

Eden fills the wine glass nearly to the brim, and when she passes it over, I take it gratefully with both hands. The cold weather seems to have completely sobered me. Can’t have that.

“Well, that’s just crazy.” Eden sits on the edge of the closest chair and scowls. “What the hell is wrong with this professor guy? You’re freaking gorgeous, smart, and funny … how could he not like you? Are you sure you weren’t misreading things?”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

As I take another sip of warming wine, the blanket falls off my shoulder. Joanna leans forward and pulls it up. “So, he wasn’t a scorching epitome of manhood with the petal-soft soul of a poet? How can that be? His pictures were like an encyclopedia of hotness. That jaw. That body. That poor, wounded heart.”

I let out a shuddery sigh as feeling finally returns to my fingers. “You’d probably think he was hot, Jo. Personally, I’d be more attracted to any member of the Insane Clown Posse.”

Eden narrows her eyes at me. “Whoa. He must be a piece of work.”

“Oh, my God,” Joanna says, clutching her chest. “Don’t tell me he was a … hipster? Did he wear a vest with no shirt? Dress shoes without socks?” She takes in a horrified breath. “Oh, dear sweet holy Apollo, did he wear meggings and a man-dress?”

“He’s not a hipster, Jo.”

“Serial-vaper?”

“No.”

“Metro-lumberjack.”

“No, God, stop.” I run my fingers through my hair. I can’t believe I wasted thirty minutes styling it in an effort to impress the professor. That’s time I’ll never get back.

“Then what?” Eden asks, almost as uptight as Joanna at this point. “Seems to me that up until now you were harboring a serious crush on the guy, physically and mentally. What did he do that put him on your shit list?”

I take another swig of wine and swallow hard. “He turned out to be Jacob.”

For a moment, Eden is confused. “Uh … is that a new term I’m not familiar with? What’s a Jacob?”

“Jacob,” I say, pointedly. The words My Jacob, echo in my brain, but I clamp my mouth shut before I can say them. “How many Jacobs do you know, Edie?”

Eden’s eyes widen. “Oh, shit. Jacob, Jacob.”

Joanna leans forward and whispers, “Is his name really Jacob Jacob? Because that’s weird but fascinating.”

Eden’s still wearing a stunned expression. “Last time I heard about Jake, he was off backpacking through Europe and Asia.” She claps her hand over her mouth. “Oh, my God. All those pictures of famous landmarks on the professor’s timeline.”

“Yep.”

She points at me like she’s Inspector Poirot at the end of an Agatha Christie novel. “He took those photos on his travels. Jacob’s the professor!”

“Oh, my God, Eden. Could it have taken you longer to get there?”

Now she seems even more confused. “But Jacob is all gangly. Long hair. Looks like an urban vampire. Not tall, ripped, and inked.”

“Well, apparently, he’s been hitting the tattoo parlor and gym while he’s been travelling, because he was huge.”

Joanna is starting to get frustrated. “Who the hell is Jacob Jacob? Please spill.”