The Professor - Ch. 12.2

Baron frowned at the sight of Aurelia and Claude having so much fun together on that sun drenched Saturday afternoon. It irked him. A lot.

“Do you know those students?” Jordin asked, observing where his attention had gone and that deep frown upon his face.

“Yes, they’re in one of my classes,” he replied, continuing to glare at the couple on the bleachers.

“Are they bad students? You’re practically scowling at them,” Jordin said, touching his bare left arm to regain his attention. They’d both worn short sleeves on that warm day. Hers were part of a red sheath dress. His belonged to a gray polo shirt that complimented the blue jeans he wore.

“No, they’re both actually quite brilliant,” Baron replied honestly, returning his gaze to the woman that he wouldn’t have even given the time of day to before Aurelia’s rejection. Or rather what he perceived to be her rejection.

Jordin had given Baron her home number months ago after their first meeting. He had promptly thrown those digits away because of his feelings for Aurelia. When his hopes for that relationship were dashed, he phoned Jordin at work and asked her out on a date. They have been dating sporadically ever since.

Baron deliberately rationed his time with Jordin for two reasons. One, he didn’t want to get too serious with anyone too fast considering his lingering feelings for Aurelia. Two, he wanted to keep his options open just in case…well, in case Aurelia’s relationship with Claude didn’t work out.

“I was just thinking they should be at the lab working on their project instead of goofing around out here. After all, the deadline is Monday,” Baron continued, trying to cover up his jealousy with a more politically correct explanation.

Jordin chuckled. “Calm down, Professor,” she said, running a manicured hand up his muscular arm. “If those two are as brilliant as you say, I’m sure they’re probably finished with their project by now or either just taking a short break to let off some steam.”

“You’re probably right.” Baron took a deep breath and blew out some of his frustration. It sucked not having the woman he really wanted. It sucked the sourest of lemons.

“Let’s go play a round of miniature golf,” he suggested, trying to force himself to move on in every way.

I have to stop holding on to things so long. Stop always thinking the worst of women, Baron thought, referring to what had become the Achilles heel of his personality ever since Megan deserted him.

* * *

Underneath the bleachers where Aurelia and Claude sat was a gray-haired Caucasian man. He was dressed in all black. In his hands was a key chain voice recorder. That was just one of many tools of the trade for the discreet private investigator.

Bringing the mini digital recorder up to his mouth, the P.I. whispered into it. “She’s still not dating anyone.” After concluding his short message, he put the key chain in the front left pocket of his jeans and proceeded to his car.

With each step he took, he marveled at the irony of this case. What were the odds of four different people hiring him to gather information on the same young woman? Four wealthy people at that, two stateside and two not. All men.

Client #1 required quarterly updates on Aurelia, which had been going on steadily for years. Client #2 required semi-annual updates, which were as sporadic as his payments. Clients #3 and #4 were new additions and both wanted weekly updates on Aurelia. They’d been willing to pay through the tooth for such a fast turnaround.

This woman must be pretty special, the private investigator deduced, having no problem getting paid four times for the same job. He almost wanted to thank Aurelia for being so special. He needed the money to continue caring for another special woman – his sick wife, who was suffering from Alzheimer’s.

© 2009 by Mi’Chelle Dodson/Suprina Frazier