The Promise (Neighbor from Hell #10)(5)

Philadelphia, PA

“Perhaps we could talk about this over coffee?” Joey suggested with a hopeful smile, really hoping that the man sitting across from her wasn’t seriously considering following through with any of the suggestions being screamed from the other side of the, hopefully locked, door.

“Joey…” Dean Anderson said, sighing her name heavily the same way that he had twelve years ago when she’d first been escorted to his office by security after the unfortunate incident that had occurred during freshmen orientation.

“Perhaps a muffin as well?” she suggested, somewhat desperately when it became painfully clear, mostly by the loud shouts demanding her head on a platter that she was doing her best to ignore at the moment, that she may have gone too far this time.

Not that she’d done this on purpose, because she hadn’t, and as soon as Dr. Miller regained consciousness she fully planned on telling him that. Until then, she was going to have to rely on the man that had taken her under his wing and kept the rest of the faculty from killing her over the years, not to do anything rash like fire her. So, it was with that in mind that Joey kept that smile on her face even as she discreetly shifted her chair away from the door where half the Science Department was currently expressing their displeasure with the paper that she’d published with shouts, curses, and semi-disturbing threats of violence.

“What are we going to do, Joey?” he asked with a resigned sigh as he rubbed his hands down his face.

“Hire more security?” she suggested, which earned her a glare.

So, she moved on.

“I can apologize,” she offered, which was normally what she did in situations like this, and unfortunately for her, this hadn’t been the first time that her research had ended someone’s career seconds before she...

Well, it wasn’t important what she did or how Dr. Miller ended up in the hospital because the doctor assured her that there wasn’t going to be any lasting damage.

“Was your information correct?” he asked, suddenly looking fifty, which was somewhat concerning since he was only thirty-five.

“Yes,” she said with a wince when the admission caused him to reach into his desk, grab the industrial sized bottle of Tums that he kept stocked at all times and consumed a handful of large chalky pink tablets, something she’d noticed that he did more and more over the years.

“Then apologizing’s not really going to help,” he said around another mouthful of Tums.

“Probably not,” she said absently as she watched him grab a bottle of Pepto-Bismol and finish off half the bottle.

“Then let’s move onto the reason that I called you today,” he said, pausing for a moment before opening his mouth, closing it, opening it again, closing it again, shaking his head, and then downing the rest of the Pepto-Bismol as she sat there, really hoping that this wasn’t about her teaching assistant, because that one definitely wasn’t her fault. But she still planned to make it up to him when, if, he returned.

“We’ve decided to approve your sabbatical.”

“Umm, thank you?” she said, unable to help but frown as she added, “But I didn’t put in for one.”

“And yet, we approved it,” he said, holding up a fresh bottle of Pepto-Bismol and muttered, “Congratulations,” before tossing another handful of Tums in his mouth.

“But my classes-” she started to say, only to have him wave off her concerns.

“Already taken care of,” he said, taking another swig from the bottle of Pepto-Bismol as she sat there, wondering if this was his way of telling her that she was fired.

“This is a good thing,” he promised, and if he hadn’t followed that up with another mouthful of Tums, she probably would have believed him.

---

Bridgewater, MA

“I guess it all started when I found out that Santa Claus wasn’t real,” the little pain in the ass that was trying to get out of detention said from her usual spot.

“That must have been very traumatic for you,” Reed said absently as he finished reading through the rest of the emails, deleting the ones from parents demanding to know why he’d fired Miss Dawson, others calling him a fucking moron for not firing her sooner, and a few wrote just to let him know that he was an asshole.

“It was,” Jen said with a sniffle, “It really was.”

“And when did this life-altering event take place?” he asked, not bothering to read the next email when he saw the word asshole in capital letters.

“Last week,” Jen answered with a forlorn sigh that had Reed’s lips twitching.

“I see,” Reed murmured, closing his laptop as he leaned back in his chair. “And this is why you couldn’t go to detention?”

“I just don’t think I’m ready to be around all that joy,” Jen whispered. “Not yet,” she said with a sniffle and a forlorn sigh that had him nodding sympathetically.

“It’s too soon,” Reed agreed, matching her sigh with one of his own as he grabbed a pen and started writing a note.

“It is,” Jen whispered as she helped herself to the dish of hard candy on his desk.

“You don’t belong in detention,” Reed said with an understanding smile as he held the note out to the little con artist.

“Bless you, Principal. Bradford,” Jen said with a watery smile and a sniffle as she stood up and took the note. “Bless you.”