Misconduct

I glanced over at my black leather couch, imagining what she would look like on it.

She wouldn’t be easy.

In fact, I had a strange feeling it would be like high school, and I’d feel like I’d scored if I just got my hand up her shirt.

But that was wishful thinking. I couldn’t touch her.

Not that she wouldn’t try to resist me anyway – the dynamics of our relationship had changed – but there was no way I could risk hurting my son or thwarting my ambitions.

Tyler Marek Seduces Son’s High School Teacher.

Yeah, the headlines would sink me, and Jay would have a meltdown.

Brynne, Christian’s mother, would cut me off from my son, and Christian would never forgive me. Our relationship was already teetering on the edge, and he only needed an excuse.

So why didn’t knowing any of that make her less desirable?

I opened the oven, grabbing the pot holder and taking the plate out of the warmer. Mrs. Giroux, the housekeeper, had been great about picking up cooking as one of her duties since Christian had come to live here. She had meals waiting for us daily, but even though I tried not to, I did miss dinner once in a while.

Christian and I had eaten together probably five times in the last three weeks. On occasion it was my fault. Something popped up, or I’d been running late, but more times than not Christian avoided me.

He spent time with friends, choosing to eat at their house, or he’d scarf down his dinner before I got home. He was about as distant as his teacher.

I made my way down the marble hallway, carrying my plate, napkin, and a bottle of beer, past the columns to my office, but I stopped, hearing laughter coming from the media room.

“No, dude!” someone shouted while another kid laughed. “Look at these pictures! We should print those.”

I narrowed my eyes, turning to the right and inching toward the room.

“Shit. Vince just tweeted,” I heard Christian say. “Aw, that’s sick! I wonder if this house is still around. Get on Google Earth.”

My mouth tilted in a smile, hearing his excitement. Google Earth? Well, at least it wasn’t porn.

I set the food down on the small table next to the double wooden doors leading to the room and pushed a door open, peering inside.

“Hey,” I said, seeing my son and two friends sprawled out on the carpeted floor instead of using the recliners in the room. They all had their laptops in front of them and looked completely engaged in whatever they were doing.

Christian’s eyes flashed to me, but then he focused back down on his laptop, brushing me off. “Hey,” he mumbled, having lost his smile.

The other two were munching and working, and I stepped into the room, loosening my tie and taking off my jacket.

“Did you eat?” I asked, making my way to the center of the room.

Christian didn’t look at me, only gestured to the pizza boxes on the floor before resuming his work on the computer.

I sighed, rubbing my jaw in frustration.

Christian was an only child, his mother having chosen not to have any more with her husband. As I’d worked and built my legacy over the past decade, I’d always assumed I’d have more kids eventually.

When I found the right woman.

It was the natural progression and how we marked our lives, after all. Go to college, begin a career, marry, and have children. I hadn’t wanted to be a father at twenty, but I wanted to be one now.

But how successful would I be if the kid I already had never stopped hating me?

“What are you guys up to?” I pushed, walking around behind Christian and taking a look at his screen.

“Just schoolwork,” he answered, scrolling through pictures.

“Pirate’s Alley?” I slowly inched in, recognizing the colors of the buildings and the Old Absinthe House sign in the photo.

“Have you ever been there, Christian?” I asked, looking down at the top of his head. One of his legs bent in toward his body, and the other lay straight out on the side of the laptop.

“Yeah.” His voice sounded clipped as he reached for his friend’s phone and started tweeting.

I studied the screen, seeing that he was on the Internet. I didn’t know much about Pinterest, but it seemed to be a popular site. It looked like he was doing schoolwork, though.

“So what’s the assignment?” I demanded, my own tone turning harder.

“Ms. Bradbury posted a scavenger hunt for extra credit today,” he bit out. “We’re mapping points of interest during the eighteen hundreds. Whoever is first, wins, okay?”

I could see the muscles in his jaw flex in anger, reminding me that my son was growing into a man with a fight of his own.

“She assigned this today?” I asked, trying to stay calm even though I knew the answer.

After I’d told her specifically that my son would not be allowed on social media for homework.

He had his phone after his schoolwork and on weekends, but clearly he was still able to get online and borrow friends’ phones.

Christian shook his head and tossed his friend’s phone back at him.

“No, right there.” His friend leaned over and pointed out a pic on the screen, referencing the map on his phone. “This one’s on the corner of Ursuline.”

And I was forgotten.

But I’d barely noticed anyway, my jaw hardening at the mention of Ms. Bradbury and her foolish determination to continue to piss me off.

I yanked at my tie as I walked out of the room, and ignored the food I’d left on the table.

SIX

EASTON

I leaped to the right, landing on my left foot as I held the racket with both hands and slammed the tennis ball back across the court. Popping back upright, I raced to the center again, oxygen rushing in and out of my lungs as I bounced on my feet.