Page 86 of Dock

“People talk.” His thick, uneven chin kicks up a bit higher. “And parents do not seem to approve of you associating with men of that nature – in any capacity.”

What people?!

What parents?!

“It apparently has them fearing for their children’s safety,” he continues without true pause for input, “and we at Newt Newton Academy take all parents concerns very serious.”

Great.

We’re dealing with an overcompensating Dean now instead of a lazy one.

Where’s the middle ground?!

Where’s that sweet spot?!

The one who cares about the kids and the teachers that are spending their lives raising them?

That listens to the parents but holds them accountable rather than scapegoating those in the classroom?

“Now,” a deep inhale is taken, “you are not involved with that individual on anything other than a professional level, correct? Because that I can – unhappily – defend until the end of the course at which point we can conduct a deeper audit regarding whether you are the best fit to continue teaching the college curriculum going forward or if it would be better for someone else to handle as to not interfere with parents’ perception of you at the academy.”

Am I…am I somehow being fired from future classes?

Is he laying the groundwork to get rid of me on a grander scale?!

“However, if you are romantically involved with that individual or any individual of that caliber, we will need to review your educational contract for conflict of moral interest – the decency policy I implemented at the end of last term – because not only is dating a student prohibited – even for academic summer courses – but because at Newt Newton Academy we expect our educators to present the best at all times, in all ways, because we know the world is always watching.” An uncomfortable, rather vile smirk slides onto his face at the same time he adds. “And at Newt Newton Academy…so are we.”

Chapter 15

Hogan

“Dock”

“You’re. Moping,” Nimue Lord unexpectedly declares over my left shoulder.

I redirect my stare from the untouched glass of Wilcox Whiskey I’ve been death gripping to hers. “No.”

She folds her sun kissed arms along the back of the outdoor, club deck couch I’m currently occupying, long blonde hair falling to one side of her sarcastically tilted face. “You so are.”

“I don’t mope, Lady.”

“Yet,” her slender frame slightly rocks forward giving me a tiny tit shot I didn’t ask for and know better than to ever take, “you are.”

“Nah,” my tone does its best to become lighter than it is, “we both know I’m too hot that shit.”

Her immediate gag gets me chuckling under my breath.

Not everyone likes Nimue.

But everyone respects her.

You have to.

She’s not just an Old Lady, she’s the Old Lady.

Queen of the castle shit.

She plays her role.