“Oh, yeah,” Emerie said. “You never did finish telling us the story.”
I’d just started telling my family about Dory Jensen when Ayana had shown up and dropped down on one knee to propose. Although it hadn’t been a welcome proposal, it’d successfully taken my mind off the recent drama I had at the university.
Becoming the youngest associate professor for the Department of Afroamerican and African Studies at the University of Michigan was no small feat. I’d spent years focused on my end game, earning my Ph.D. earlier than anyone expected and becoming a published scholar before the age of thirty. Three degrees in less than ten years, countless articles in journals, numerous public lectures, and years of experience as a teaching assistant had made me the standout candidate. I’d missed family weddings, funerals, vacations, relationships, and life. Butonestudent had nearly ruined everything I’d worked so hard to attain.
“I thought it was a little weird,” I said, picking up my story where I’d left off earlier. “She’d hang around the classroom after lecture, visit office hours every week. I declined several invitations to go out for coffee or to dinner.”
Emerie’s mouth fell open. “What the hell?”
“Girl, it’s gets worse,” Dana said.
“I tried to be nice to her,” I continued. “I treated her like everyone else in class, even though I was uncomfortable. Eventually, she started leaving gifts and writing notes. She even sent me naked pics of her. I reported the behavior to the chair, to my mentor, and to Dad.” My father was partner at one of the biggest law firms in Ann Arbor. He’d given me invaluable advice on how to deal with her. “My colleagues brought her in for a meeting, gave her a warning, and threatened her with disciplinary action. Then, she showed up at my house and camped outside until I called the police on her. She finally left, but when I woke up the next morning, there was an old oil painting on my porch of a man and woman with afros looking up at the sky.”
“Straight up?” Vaughn asked. “Why are you just now telling us this shit?”
“Because I thought I had it handled. Anyway, I started noticing strange behavior from the female students in my class—whispers, giggles, glares. Soon, I realized she’d told many of them that we had something going on. I even heard she’d shown pictures of someone’s dick and told everyone it was me.”
“That little bitch,” Emerie whispered.
“It was a mess,” I said. “The Department Chair moved her to another class taught by a friend of mine. But she showed up to my lecture like nothing had happened. I had to kick her out in front of everyone.”
Dana drummed her fingers on the table. “So now he looks like the villain.”
“Well, not to all of my students,” I corrected. “A lot of them see it for what it is. But I don’t doubt her friends think I’m a piece of shit.”
“Damn. All of that, and then you had to deal with Ayana’s bullshit.” Emerie placed her hand on top of mine and squeezed. “I’m so sorry, big brother. You can’t seem to catch a break.”
“It’s those dimples,” Dana said. “I always knew that smile would get him in trouble.”
Chuckling, I bumped my big sister’s shoulder. “Shut up.”
“You might be on to something, sis,” Emerie agreed. “He’s probably in that classroom smiling and shit, dazzling those young girls with his intellect and his light brown eyes.”
Vaughn barked out a laugh. “Some women are just unhinged.”
I gave Vaughn a fist bump. “Exactly.Thatis not my fault.”
Emerie gasped. “Wear a wedding ring.”
“Shit,” Vaughn murmured. “That won’t work.”
“Right?” Dana said. “That’ll make him more attractive to those lil’ heffas. Why don’t you let me observe your class? I’ll get those young girls right.” She’d been threatening people since we were kids and claimed it was her official duty as the oldest.
“How about you observeyourkids andyourhusband?” I suggested.
Rolling her eyes, she said, “Obviously you need my help. If you would’ve let me handle Ayana, we wouldn’t have had to leave Afternoon Delight before I could get my buttery raisin toast today.”
“I—” My phone buzzed in my pocket. Picking it up, I frowned at the notification that someone was at my front door. I opened up the app and immediately recognized the face in the camera. “Shit,” I grumbled. “I need to go.”
“Wait? What’s going on?” Dana asked, concern in her eyes. “Is it Mom and Dad?”
I shook my head. “That student is at my house.”
“I’m coming with you.” Dana scooted out of the booth.
“Us too,” Emerie said.
Shaking my head, I said, “No. I’ll call Jace and we’ll handle it.”
