Like my celibacy is some weird prize.
“Here,” Alastair says, slipping a box into my hand. “I’ve sent you the invoice.”
The rings. I’d forgotten. “They’re the right ones?”
He pulls out his phone and touches it against mine, sending through a video. I play the footage, nodding. It shows George’s dad at the counter, waiting while the attendant weighs the jewellery before taking it out the back for the resident expert to assess the gemstone.
The whole transaction takes less than three minutes.
I open his email and send Alastair the payment. The jewellery is worth less than his time but hopefully it’ll put a smile on George’s face to get them back.
A message arrives while I stare at the screen. This one from Menzies.
“MC debt is still outstanding. Can you authorise payment?”
It takes a second to remember. The party. The background check. Menzies had found an outstanding debt that a gang wanted George held as collateral for. I said I’d wipe it.
Usually, that would mean the entire thing got sorted without me needing to take any further action.
I click further into the message, frowning as I see he wants me to fund it from my private account. My dad’s sitting on tens of millions in his day-to-day account, but he wantsmeto pay it.
What the fuck?
I sign off on the message, rubbing my eyebrow when it twitches, a sign of too much caffeine and too little sleep.
The money comes from my father either way, no matter what account it comes from. For him to make me authorise the payment is just a way to yank on my chain.
I start to add up the total for my one night with George but shake my head. That’s how my father calculates everything in the world, like people are part of a profit-and-loss statement instead of human beings.
Still, a new debt paid. With the rings arriving into my hand the same day, it feels like kismet. Why else would the universe gift me a carrot and stick in tandem if it didn’t want me to take advantage of the opportunity?
Now my shock that she attends the same school has worn off, my mind sets to work, trying to coax out the possibilities. Her closeness is a blade that cuts both ways. So many more opportunities to be found out, sure, but also more opportunities to be together.
I could give her a key to my room, leave her to sneak in there during the afternoon, and be able to spend the entire night without raising any alarm bells.
When Kari goes on one of her weekend getaways, I could use George from Friday to Sunday, and nobody would ever need to know.
“Jesus, Lock,” Kari says, clapping a hand over her eyes and peeking between them at my burgeoning erection. “Put that away. There are children about.”
I adjust myself, then stand.
The school secretary gave me a copy of George’s schedule. I know her next lesson after lunch is history, and that’s right next to mine in the Arts and Humanities block.
There’s still ten minutes before class. I send her a text,telling her where to meet me. Telling her I need to talk to her about her dad’s debt.
A tick shows me she’s seen it. Dots appear, then disappear again. It doesn’t matter. I kiss Kari goodbye, making an excuse about collecting course work that she probably interprets as me going off to enjoy a quick wank, then slope off towards the block, excitement stirring in my abdomen.
Or maybe lower.
The corridor is empty as I stride along it, heading for the cloakroom situated midway between the two classrooms. The recessed space has lockers lining two of the walls with a low bench taking up the third.
I check my phone and there’s still no message but the moment a frown of doubt appears, I see George cautiously push open the end door and my forehead relaxes.
Her expression is guarded as she walks towards me. I twist the jewellery box in my pocket then withdraw my hand, pushing away from the wall as George comes closer.
“What’s the problem?” she asks, stopping a metre short.
“There’s no problem. I just wanted to have a chat.”
