Read Online Professor Cline Revealed by J. M. La Rocca - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: J. M. La Rocca
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knew what charity event he wanted me to attend. It was a foundation to help women and children who were sexually abused. He did shit like this all the time. It amazed me how he could be so nonchalant.
I wanted to tell him to fuck off and go to Hell, but I wouldn’t. I’d just throw in a little something to stir the pot like I usually did. Just to make sure he remembered that I knew what kind of man he truly was.
“Do you really think it’s appropriate for you to even attend this event?”
The line was silent like I knew it would be. He was definitely fuming on the other end, but he’d never have an outburst. He was a smart man. He was a lawyer, after all. He knew better than to make confessions over the phone.
I heard him clear his throat before he spoke again. “Come by any time. If I’m not here, just ask Melanie to get them for you.”
Then he was gone. It was how our conversations usually played out. There was nothing truly personal between us anymore.
~*~
I woke the next morning around eleven and replayed the scene in my office. I must have lost my mind. I didn’t date. I picked women up, they served their purpose, and then I was done. What was it about her that made me lose all sense? It wasn’t the innocence that flowed off her in waves; I’d dealt with that plenty of times. I couldn’t figure it out.
I sighed.
Dating was something I never did. It led to hopes for more, even when told nothing more would come. I’d learned my lesson the hard way. After John Cline won his big case when I was nineteen, any chance of me having a normal relationship was lost. Everyone wanted to know his prodigy and the women wanted the fame and money. And even though I knew it was something I never truly wanted, it made me despise him even more. It was as if he’d planned on ruining every aspect of my life.
I sat up in bed, felt a pain behind my eyes and noticed the glass on my bedside table. I shouldn’t have drunk so much scotch the night before, but then I remembered why I had.
John had called me after I’d gotten home. Not the way I wanted to end my fucking day.
I made my way downstairs and headed to the kitchen to get some Tylenol and a bottle of water. Although my work was in the city, I lived in the suburbs in a quiet, upscale neighborhood. The two-story brick colonial was my sanctuary and my Hell, my place of solitude where the darkness crept in at night. Every room was decorated in reds and blacks, all except my bedroom. I did it as a reminder of the blood on my hands and darkness of my soul. I knew there were things in life we could never take back, and I didn’t plan on ever letting myself forget. My room was white and light grey, a reminder of my innocence, something which was taken away from me. I would wake in the morning in purity, then leave with the reminder of the darkness that lived deep inside.
After grabbing what I needed, I headed back to the stairs and saw Nancy, my maid, walk out of the study.
“Good morning, Nancy.”
She looked up and screamed as she looked me over. Her wide eyes darted down my body and then back to my face. She turned around quickly and apologized profusely.
“Oh, my God. I’m so sorry, Mr. Cline. I had no idea you were down here,” she explained before she scurried off back into the study.
I rubbed at my head as her high-pitched apologies rang through my ears and then looked down at myself. I’d apparently forgotten to put clothes on and given the poor old bag a show. I’d have laughed if my head wasn’t pounding. It wasn’t the first time it had happened, and I was sure it wouldn’t be the last.
I went back up to my room and threw on some sweatpants. There was only one way I knew how to get rid of the headache. I opened the door to the weight room and stepped inside, turned the classical music on and headed for the treadmill.
I’d run it out of my system.
~*~
I stepped out of my car into the cool night air. It wasn’t usual for me to
I wanted to tell him to fuck off and go to Hell, but I wouldn’t. I’d just throw in a little something to stir the pot like I usually did. Just to make sure he remembered that I knew what kind of man he truly was.
“Do you really think it’s appropriate for you to even attend this event?”
The line was silent like I knew it would be. He was definitely fuming on the other end, but he’d never have an outburst. He was a smart man. He was a lawyer, after all. He knew better than to make confessions over the phone.
I heard him clear his throat before he spoke again. “Come by any time. If I’m not here, just ask Melanie to get them for you.”
Then he was gone. It was how our conversations usually played out. There was nothing truly personal between us anymore.
~*~
I woke the next morning around eleven and replayed the scene in my office. I must have lost my mind. I didn’t date. I picked women up, they served their purpose, and then I was done. What was it about her that made me lose all sense? It wasn’t the innocence that flowed off her in waves; I’d dealt with that plenty of times. I couldn’t figure it out.
I sighed.
Dating was something I never did. It led to hopes for more, even when told nothing more would come. I’d learned my lesson the hard way. After John Cline won his big case when I was nineteen, any chance of me having a normal relationship was lost. Everyone wanted to know his prodigy and the women wanted the fame and money. And even though I knew it was something I never truly wanted, it made me despise him even more. It was as if he’d planned on ruining every aspect of my life.
I sat up in bed, felt a pain behind my eyes and noticed the glass on my bedside table. I shouldn’t have drunk so much scotch the night before, but then I remembered why I had.
John had called me after I’d gotten home. Not the way I wanted to end my fucking day.
I made my way downstairs and headed to the kitchen to get some Tylenol and a bottle of water. Although my work was in the city, I lived in the suburbs in a quiet, upscale neighborhood. The two-story brick colonial was my sanctuary and my Hell, my place of solitude where the darkness crept in at night. Every room was decorated in reds and blacks, all except my bedroom. I did it as a reminder of the blood on my hands and darkness of my soul. I knew there were things in life we could never take back, and I didn’t plan on ever letting myself forget. My room was white and light grey, a reminder of my innocence, something which was taken away from me. I would wake in the morning in purity, then leave with the reminder of the darkness that lived deep inside.
After grabbing what I needed, I headed back to the stairs and saw Nancy, my maid, walk out of the study.
“Good morning, Nancy.”
She looked up and screamed as she looked me over. Her wide eyes darted down my body and then back to my face. She turned around quickly and apologized profusely.
“Oh, my God. I’m so sorry, Mr. Cline. I had no idea you were down here,” she explained before she scurried off back into the study.
I rubbed at my head as her high-pitched apologies rang through my ears and then looked down at myself. I’d apparently forgotten to put clothes on and given the poor old bag a show. I’d have laughed if my head wasn’t pounding. It wasn’t the first time it had happened, and I was sure it wouldn’t be the last.
I went back up to my room and threw on some sweatpants. There was only one way I knew how to get rid of the headache. I opened the door to the weight room and stepped inside, turned the classical music on and headed for the treadmill.
I’d run it out of my system.
~*~
I stepped out of my car into the cool night air. It wasn’t usual for me to
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