Bad Professor (An Alpha Male Bad Boy Romance) (147 page)

CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE

Quinn

I
got home and found a
note from my father. They had gone out to their favorite pasta bar for dinner.
He promised to bring me home shrimp linguini – Sienna's favorite. The silly
mistake broke free another sob from my chest.

The tears blinded
me as I went upstairs. I ended up in Sienna's room, in the armchair where I had
sat so many times and watched her get ready. My parents had shut the door on
her room when she left for college. It was a shrine just waiting in case she
ever came home. My room was almost the same except for the addition of my
mother's treadmill and two old dressers she had bought with the idea of
renovating them into shabby chic masterpieces.

"I miss
you," I said to her perfect room. I had to squeeze my eyes shut to ward
off the last image I had of her. "I hope you know I hate you. I hate you
for leaving me with this whole mess."

I opened my eyes
and focused on the photographs on her wall. Sienna dancing in our backyard,
Sienna in her cheerleader uniform, Sienna and I in matching dresses for an
Easter party.

"I know, I
know, it’s my mess," I said. "You were never good with messes. I
can't walk away, though. You always moved forward, moved on, but I can't."

Sienna had moved
on and left me behind again. She had made a mess she did not know how to clean
up and her suicide was only supposed to be a cry for help. I knew that now. She
had just cut too deep and waited too long.

Now, Owen was in a
mess and refused to help himself.

"It just
hurts too much right now," I told Sienna. "I'll help him. I know you
would want me to, but right now, I just wish you were here."

I could see her
standing in front of her closet, her hands on her hips. Sienna would have told
me to focus on myself, make a plan. What did I want tomorrow to look like?

At least that was
becoming clearer. The more I thought about becoming an EMT, the more sense it
made. I had liked nursing because I liked helping people, but the idea of
walking the same white halls day in and day out made me feel trapped. It was
too settled, too stationary, and I wanted to move. If I completed my training
and earned my certification as an EMT, I would have more freedom.

Sienna had been
right about looking to the future. It calmed me and made me feel better. I had
a plan and there was something I could do towards it. I wanted to earn the
money for my training on my own. All I had to do was log on and try out more of
the new Mars game. It felt good to have a clear way towards what I wanted. It
was much easier than thinking about Owen.

I headed
downstairs and heard my parents in the kitchen. "Quinn? Is that you? We
brought you back some food," my mother called.

I joined them
around our kitchen island. My mother was looking tired, her mouth drooping at
the corners, but she forced a smile as she poured herself a glass of wine.

"How has your
night been?" my father asked. He clearly wanted to ask what I had been
doing with my time. I knew it killed him to think I was just sitting around
idle while my future hung in the balance.

"Actually,"
I said. "I've got good news."

"Really?"
my mother asked. "It looks like you've been crying."

I waved away her
concern. "Mother thought it would be a good idea if I got my whole plan
all figured out and then presented it like Sienna used to do," I said.

My father flinched
at Sienna's name. "So there's at least a plan forming."

"And, I
wanted to let you know I got a job in the meantime," I said. "You're
not going to like it because it’s a video gaming job, but it pays well."

"What kind of
job?" he asked.

"I'm testing
out a new game. It’s called Beta Testing. I play the game and give the creators
feedback. They track my progress through the game and make changes depending on
what I am able to do."

"So you're
telling me you're going downstairs to play video games," my father said.

"She just
said it was a job, she's getting paid to do it," my mother said.

"You think
it’s okay if she throws away her future playing games?"

My mother cringed
at his harsh tone. Her mouth quivered and she finished her wine quickly. I did
not like the clouded look in her eyes.

"I don't need
to work tonight," I said to my mother.

She shook her
head. "No, go ahead. I'm not feeling well. I'm going to head
upstairs."

She left and I
stayed in the kitchen feeling nervous. My father pretended like nothing was
wrong. He even tried to hum as he put away the food he had brought home for me.
After the counter was cleared, he headed towards his office and shut the door.

I checked my watch
– it was not even 9 pm. The happy hour party at Owen's apartment was probably
turning into an all-nighter. I shoved the thought away and headed downstairs.
Sienna would have stayed focused.

Still, I checked
my messages before I logged on. There were two from Owen.

"Quinn, I
don't know what happened. I guess I freaked out. I forgot to eat and drank too
much and it all fell apart. How did it all fall apart? I need to talk to you. I
need to see you. Please, call me. I didn't mean to hurt you," his first
message said.

The second message
hurt. "Your ex-boyfriend is all in my face telling me I cheated on you.
You're going to believe him over me? I don't know what you think you saw, but
you should know better. I'm not with Anya. How could you think that? Quinn, please
call me. This is ridiculous. I can't believe you walked out on me."

Owen
thought I walked out on him?
I tossed my phone aside
before I could smash it. Instead of logging on, all I could do was pace the
length of our basement family room. I knew I needed to let it go. There was no
way I could respond to Owen now. The brisk pacing helped me. It would be stupid
to do anything about it until the morning. There was no harm in letting it go
until then. That meant I had hours to do something practical, something for
myself.

Finally, my
breathing returned to normal. I picked up my phone, set it screen down on the
coffee table, and tried to get to work. I found the secure website for the Beta
version of the Mars game and was about to log on when my phone rang.

I reached for it
and then sat back three times before I finally picked it up. "Hello?"

"Oh, Quinn.
I'm glad I caught you," Darla said. "I just heard from some friends
that Trent is coming out to visit you. I thought you might want a heads
up."

"Too
late," I said. "I ran into him at a party at Owen's, but trust me
that was not the worst part of my night."

"Your ex
arriving to try to charm you into forgiving him was not the worst part of your
night? Do I even want to know?"

"No. You
probably don't want to know that right after Owen and I got closer than we've
ever been, he drank too much and may or may not have made out with this gamer
chick that's been trying to snag him for years," I said. "Oh, and you
probably don't want to know that I think Owen's roommate is setting him up to
take the fall for his drug-dealing. But, of course, Owen would not listen to me
because he saw me with Trent."

"Yeah, you
were right," Darla said. "I did not want to know any of that –
especially when I am four hours away and can't get there in time to help
you!"

I laughed.
"Don't worry. I got out of there and I'm hiding out in my parents’
basement. Oh my God, I know that made it sound worse, but it’s actually
okay."

"Thank God
you sound okay," she said. "So, have you thought more about taking
that rich hottie's thank you money?"

"It was
tempting, but I'm going to do this for myself," I said.

"Now that is
what I wanted to hear," she said. "Every time you say something like
that, you sound better than you have in months."

"I feel
better, too, about that at least." My phone buzzed. "Of course, right
when I say that, I get a text from Trent."

"Well, call
me later if you need. Wake me up, I don't care. Miss you!" Darla said.

She hung up and I
checked the message from Trent.

"Back at
party, more people here. Asking around and no one in computers, tech, or web
design. O is sobering up," he wrote.

"Did you
confront him?" I wrote back.

"Yes. He had
no idea what happened. Someone slip him shots?" Trent texted.

"Don't
care." I wrote.

"Sorry, babe,
here for you."

"Sure you
are," I said out loud. "You're at a party for me."

I tried to ignore
what Trent had said. Asking people what they did for a living was easy party
talk so I was not surprised Trent had talked to people about it. The fact that
none of Jasper's friends were in computers or IT was surprising. And it
bothered me that Owen had gotten so drunk he did not remember the scene in the
bedroom with Anya. Had someone slipped shots of alcohol into his beer to get
him drunk faster?

Another text from
Trent buzzed my phone. "Anya left with Jasper. Got weird vibe. Am coming
over to see you."

"No
thanks," I wrote back.

Trent did not
respond and I was not surprised when I heard the doorbell ten minutes later. I
sprinted up the stairs, but my father's office was closer to the front door and
he beat me to it.

"Hello, Mr.
Thomas, may I come in?" Trent asked in his best well-mannered voice.

"I don't
think so," my father said. He turned to glare at me. "Did you invite
him over?"

"No, actually
I told him not to come," I said.

Trent stood on his
tiptoes to see me over my father's shoulder. "Know how I told you that
Anya left with Jasper and it felt a little weird? Well, I got in my car and had
only made it to the end of the block before I passed a police cruiser," he
said.

There was a noise
upstairs. My father left the front door and went up the staircase to check on
my mother. I took up his position blocking the entryway.

Trent fidgeted on
the front steps. "I know it was stupid, but I circled around and I saw the
cops busting the party."

"I really
don't want this to be my problem," I said. "I tried to warn Owen and
he did not want to listen to me."

"I know, and
I think you're right," Trent said. "I just wanted you to know I think
your theory was right. Anya and Jasper left just before the cops arrived. I saw
the cops taking Owen out to a squad car. They arrested him."

My heart sank.
So much for staying out of it
. "The
police would not have done that unless they found something on him. Either Anya
or Jasper planted something on Owen."
  

CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO

Quinn

I
hung on to the front door and wondered what I should do. If someone had slipped
marijuana into his pocket, then the police had finally found what they were
looking for. It would not matter if he had tested clean for drugs. The searches
and the possession were against him. It was a thin case, but the police would
have something on him now.

"I just
thought you should know," Trent said. "Owen's a big boy, he can take
care of himself. It's really just a misdemeanor. He probably resisted and
that's why he was taken in."

"That makes
it worse, don't you think?"

"He made his
own decisions," Trent said.

"Not if his
roommate planned to set him up in order to take the heat off himself," I
objected. "This could ruin Owen's career, at the very least his
credibility. He'll probably lose his sponsors."

"But, honey,
you don't have to fix it," Trent said. "You don't have to fix
everyone."

"There is a
huge difference between trying to help and trying to fix someone," I said.
"Trust me, I know."

As if to
illustrate what I had said, there was a commotion upstairs. "Just trust
me," I could hear my father saying.

I waved Trent out
the front door and promised I would call him someday. He left and I shut the
door just before my mother flew down the stairs.

"Who was it?
Was it the waitress? I didn't tip her well enough, I know I didn't," she
said.

"Mom, are you
okay? What are you talking about?" I had seen the wild look in her eyes
before and it froze my heart.

My father came
down the stairs and caught her in his arms. "Barbara, darling, I told you
that I took care of the tip. There is nothing for you to worry about. How about
I call the restaurant and tell the manager what a great job the waitress did?
That'll fix it," he said.

He steered her
back up the stairs. My mother's worries were descending into gibberish, yet he
responded with calm, soothing answers as if he could talk her out of it. I knew
he had been through this dozens of times before, but it bothered me how he
thought he could just brush it aside. She needed help, that was not normal, but
my father was determined to fix it on his own.

When he came
downstairs ten minutes later, I was still waiting in the foyer. "What did
Trent want? It sure was a surprise to see him here. Boy trouble?"

I cringed at his
easy tone. "How's Mother?"

"Oh, you know
how she gets. Just overtired. She'll be fine after she rests," he said. He
brushed past me and headed for his office.

I followed him and
stood in the doorway before he could close the door. "She just needs to
rest?"

He refused to look
at me. "She didn't sleep well last night. And we spent most of yesterday
out running errands, so of course she's tired. Everything's fine."

"Then, can
you help me?" I asked. "Or, more specifically, can you help Owen? I
think he's in trouble with the police."

"Quinn, just
because I'm a criminal lawyer does not mean I'm going to help every loser that
gets himself in trouble."

"Owen's not a
loser, you know that," I said. "His roommate was selling drugs and
when neighbors started noticing, he decided to make Owen take the fall for
him."

"Then if
Owen's innocent, he has nothing to worry about."

"Except that
he's been set-up. His roommate made it look like he was the one dealing drugs.
And because Owen plays video games for a living, people are more inclined to
believe it. I think he really needs your help," I said.

My father took
four angry paces away from me then marched back. His face was a dark red as he
pointed a finger at me. "And you think I should help him? Why should I
help the man that dumped my beautiful daughter when she needed him the most?
Did you know that? Owen broke up with Sienna! Can you believe that? That loser
broke up with your sister. He hurt her and that made her hurt herself."

"You think
that is why Sienna committed suicide?" I knew my father had always been
looking for someone to blame. The hardest part of my sister's death was
realizing that she did it to herself. There was no real reason for it. It had
just happened.

"He just
dumped her flat and left her to pick up the pieces. Can you imagine what that
did to her?" my father asked. "It’s no wonder she felt so sad."

"What
happened to Sienna was a tragedy," I said, "but it was no one's
fault. And it had nothing to do with Owen."

"Why are you
defending him?" my father yelled. He paced back and forth again.
"What is it about Owen Redd that makes my daughters lose all rational
thought?"

"I'm not the
one acting irrationally," I said.

My father stopped
sharply and turned to face me. "No? You're just running around with the
man that broke your sister's heart. Have you even thought about how that looks?
Do you even care what it does to your sister's memory?"

My knuckles went
white as I gripped the doorframe. "Sienna cheated on Owen. Months before.
She cheated on him, he caught her, and he broke up with her months before what
happened at college," I said.

"Let me
guess," my father said. "He told you that. Quinn, honestly, I thought
you were smarter."

"I can prove
it," I said. "I was in Sienna's room tonight and I remembered what
her password is for her email. If you need proof, it will all be in there. You
know she needed to lay everything out in black and white."

"So, you
found out that she cheated and you did not say anything?"

I tried to form a
response, knowing full well my father wanted to turn all of it on me. Then we
both heard the muffled sob on the stairs.

"Barbara?
Barbara, it's not what you think. Please, darling. It’s not at all what you
think," my father called. He pushed past me and ran towards the front
staircase.

"You told
her? How could you? I'm her mother. How is that going to make her feel about
me?" my mother cried.

"Mom? Are you
okay? What are you talking about?" I called. I ran to the bottom of the
stairs, but they were already gone.

I could hear her
crying and my father pleading with her. He kept telling her over and over again
that we were not talking about her. I knew when my mother's downswings hit, one
of the worst signs was paranoia. Still, something about her reaction made me
wonder.
We had been talking about Sienna
cheating on Owen. Why would my mother think we were talking about her? Had she
cheated on my father?

I knew my father
wanted privacy. He wanted to fix what was wrong with my mother and pretend like
nothing had happened. Instead, I went upstairs and found him pounding on the
hallway bathroom door. My mother was locked inside and sobbing.

"Quinn, go
downstairs. I can handle this," my father said. He rattled the door handle
hard and threw his shoulder against the wood. "Barbara, just open the
door, darling."

"She's not
making sense," I said. "You have to know this is a really bad sign.
We have to get her to come out."

"Everything's
fine, Quinn. Just go downstairs," he said.

"Mom? Tell me
what's going on. Are you okay?" I called through the door.

"No, no, no,
I don't want you to know. My baby, my baby, no one is ever going to look at me
the same again. It’s too much. Too much," she said.

"Barbara,
stop! Just stop. I'm coming in. You're fine," my father said.

There were sounds
of drawers opening and slamming closed. My mother was searching for something
while she muttered, "Too much, too much."

My father stopped,
frozen against the solid wood of the door. "My shaving kit is in
there," he said.

"Take the
hinges off," I said. My father started pulling on them as I ran for the
pliers I knew were in the hall closet. We pulled the hinges loose and took the
door completely off the frame.

Inside, my mother
was standing over the sink. She had tried to cut one wrist and blood had
sprinkled all over the white porcelain sink. She had then tried to wipe up the
mess with her uninjured hand and stood holding a bloody tissue.

"Barbara, no.
Why?" my father asked. He sank to his knees in the hallway.

I stepped around
him and took hold of my mother's injured arm. "It’s not deep. She went
across, not down. Here, Mom, let me stop the bleeding. Don't worry, I'll clean
up too," I said.

"I'm
worthless, don't bother. Just leave me alone. I deserve it," she sobbed.

"That's not
you talking, it’s your sickness, Mom. Here, sit down on the edge of the bath tub.
Let me clean you up," I said. I took the first aid kit from under the sink
and tore open a package of gauze. The bleeding slowed as I dabbed it away to
reveal a small cut. She had not really tried to kill herself, the horizontal
cut meant she was just crying out for help.

"Sick?"
she asked in a small voice.

"Yes. Mom, I
think you have a type of bi-polar disorder. It explains the big mood swings,
the times you feel jumpy and unsettled, the talking too fast, and any
inappropriate behavior that seems way outside the ordinary for you. This isn't
you, it’s the sickness," I said.

"Quinn, baby,
you shouldn't know. It’s too much. My baby, my baby doesn't need to know. I
love you and I don't want you to look at me different," she said.

I hugged her
tight. "I love you and I will always love you."

"Does she
need stitches?" my father asked. He pulled himself to his feet.

"No, but she
should go to the hospital," I said.

"We have
something to calm her, she just needs to rest," he said. "Darling?
Quinn is going to fix up your little cut and then we'll get you settled in bed.
Alright?"

My mother nodded
meekly. I stood up and pushed my father into the hallway. "She needs to be
observed all night. This was not okay. Please tell me you know this is not
okay."

"Quinn, please,
I've been dealing with this a lot longer than you," my father said.
"She has sleeping pills that will help calm her down and I am here. This
isn't for you to worry about."

"So you won't
take her to the hospital?"

"No,
everything's fine. Why don't you go downstairs and get your mother some water?
I'll help get her comfortable," he said.

My legs felt like
jelly all the way down to the kitchen and back upstairs. I spilled part of the
water when I saw the unhinged door leaning against the hallway wall. The whole
incident was terrifying and it took all my concentration not to drop the water
glass completely. I took deep breaths all the way down the hall to my mother's
bedroom.

She was tucked
into bed, sitting up wrapped in a tight hug from my father. He sat next to her
and smoothed her hair as he held her. When they heard me come in the room, he
stood up and took the water from me. I watched my mother take a sleeping pill,
her eyes still darting back and forth wildly.

Finally, she
started to calm and my father gestured for me to go downstairs. I waited for
him at the foot of the staircase.
 

#

I
waited at the bottom of the stairs for what felt like a decade. After fifteen
minutes, I was sure my father had gone down the back steps and sneaked into his
home office. Then finally, I heard his soft tread in the upstairs hallway.

He did not think I
would be there. The tight frown on his face said he was trying to think of what
he could say to send me away.

"I'm not
helping Owen, Quinn. You can forget it," my father said. He marched down
the stairs.

I blocked his way.
"We can talk about that later. I'm not going to let you pretend that
nothing just happened. She should be at a hospital now."

"Your mother
is fine. You said so yourself. You saw the cut, it was superficial. She was
just being dramatic and probably slipped," he said.

"How long are
you going to try to deny this?"

My father pushed
past me and headed towards his home office. "I'm not denying anything. I'm
not the one trying to live in an imaginary video game world."

"Do not turn
this around on me. I am not leaving you alone until you tell me the plan for
her care. Mom needs to see a doctor. She needs help."

"She just
needs to rest. Your mother gets anxious and blows things out of
proportion."

"Then at
least tell me why she thought we were talking about her? What is so bad that
she doesn't want me to know?"

My father wrapped
his arms tight across his chest. "That is none of your business. I would
think after the scene your mother made wanting her privacy kept, you would not
ask such a thing."