Page 37 of Yes! Professor Hendrix
“Nah,” I cut in. “Fourth grade . And if you’ve got more than one Fourth grade class, I want the one with Lena Morrow’s daughter in it.”
She narrowed her eyes, suspicious. “Why?”
I looked her dead in the face. “You really want me to explain what a parent pussy call means, aight?”
She blinked.
“I’ll get my credentials ready,” I added. “Now call your current Fourth grade teacher and let him know I’m taking over.”
She took a breath. Tried to stay composed.
“Mr. Hendrix, your investment is well received by this school… but you need to understand something. We are a Catholic institution with very strict rules—including clean language around students and parents. You can’t talk the way you talk. And there can be no relationships between teachers and student parents. If we hire you, you must respect that—or at the very least, keep your personal life far away from this school.”
“Aight. I know how to talk, ma’am. I’m a professor, damn. I just figured outside the classroom we could drop the fake-ass clean talk and keep it real,” I said, smirking.
She blinked again, stunned.
“And as for your second concern? I’ll make sure to fuck far from these walls as long as I’m staff. But if shit happens—’cause life happens, you know—don’t feel bad about firing my ass. If we get to that point, it means I’m done here anyway. Already got what I came for. I’ll even be the one to quit. But one thing I do know for sure—I’m gonna be fucking a student’s parent. And when that day comes, y’all ain’t gonna approve a damn thing I do to her.” I finished.
Then I walked the fuck out. I got in my car, pulled out my phone, and hit the call to Wallace’s contact.
“Nolan?” His voice came through with that usual fake-ass cheer. “You’re finally calling to accept our offer? I know it’s been seven years in the same position, but you’re the best at it. I can’t see anyone else doing it better than you.”
“Aight. Then you better find someone else.”
“What? What does that mean?”
“Don’t be slow, Wallace. I quit.”
I ended the call before he could answer. Then I hit my next call. It rang three times before that voice picked up.
“Lan, you missing a nigga?” Las said, that grin damn near audible through the phone.
“Ain’t no shit like that, Las. I need you.”
His tone dropped. “What’s going on?”
“Pull me everything on Lena Morrow. Her daughter goes to St. Gabrielle Academy. I wanna know everything. Especially if there’s any nigga I need to kill, ‘cause I don’t want nobody too close to her.”
He went quiet for a beat. “The fuck? Who the hell is Lena Morrow?”
“My future wife,” I said, dead serious.
Because in my mind? That shit was already decided. And ain’t nothing about me half-measure. If I want her, I take her. And I wanted her like my next breath.
“Aight, I got you, nigga,” he said before we hung up.
Since then, I’d been obsessed. Learned everything about her and Marisa. Planned every damn move. I wanted to come in soft—let her get to know me, give her time to fall, then step in and claim my spot in their life.
But all that shit flew out the window the day she sent me that nasty-ass email. After that? I couldn’t fucking wait anymore.
I leaned down, voice low and raw.
“Baby, I fell in love with both of you the second I saw you at that open-door day. You walked in with your fine ass, all curves and those tight-ass jeans. Marisa holdin’ your hand. I saw the way you looked around—like you didn’t even know if you belonged there. And I fucking knew. That was it for me. I made a way to get inside this school, cut a deal to become a teacher just to make shit happen for us.”
Her eyes widened. “That’s some crazy creepy shit, baby.”
I smirked. “I know. I’m crazy about you. I had to chase you, Lena. Quietly. Patiently. I learned everything about you so I’d be ready to step in the second you needed me. I carved out a place in your life so deep you couldn’t imagine it without me. And I fucking did.”
