Page 63 of The Naughty Professor
Before I could soak up more adoration, a burly security guard pushed through the crowd.“Mr.Jax,” he said, all business, “you’re needed backstage.”
“Of course I am,” I purred.“The show can’t start without its star.”
The kids tried to follow, still snapping photos, but the guard turned and snarled—literally snarled.The crowd scattered like pigeons in a park.
“Whoa,” I said, clapping the guy on the shoulder.“Love the energy, but take it down a notch.You’re scaring the twinks.”
“House rules,” he grunted.
“Relax.This one’s with me.”I nodded toward Juniper.“She’s my assistant.”
The guard gave her a once-over.She lifted her chin, looking like a gothic doll who’d rather die than be impressed.He shrugged and led us through the crowd, parting people like a walking refrigerator in a black polo.
As we moved deeper into the club, people called my name.“We love you, Jax!”“You’re a god!”“Take it all off again!”
I blew kisses, waved, winked.The attention was like champagne bubbles—effervescent and addictive.Juniper stayed behind me, head down, silent.Every time I looked back, she had that same weird expression—like she was seeing a ghost, or maybe watching a car crash she couldn’t stop.
“Juniper, what’s with the funeral face?”I asked over the music.“This is supposed to be fun!”
“Just… thinking,” she said again.
“If you think any harder, your brain’s gonna melt.”
The guard opened the VIP gate, and suddenly we were in a quieter section of the club, up near the stage.Spotlights flared.The place was packed—students, drag performers, a few people I actually recognized from faculty meetings (awkward).And right in front of the stage, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else, sat Professor Thorne Carr.
My grin widened.“Well, if it isn’t my favorite philosopher.”
Before anyone could stop me, I jogged over and plopped myself right into his lap.He stiffened—physically and emotionally—and the room erupted into delighted laughter and a few “oooohs.”
“Hey there, handsome,” I purred, looping an arm around his neck.“Miss me?”
Thorne blinked, his glasses catching the light.“Jax?”His voice was rough, uncertain.“You… you’re Felix, aren’t you?”
“Do I look like Felix right now?”I leaned closer.“Do you see any anxiety?Any cardigan?Didn’t think so.”
“I’m—uh—trying to understand what’s happening,” he said, still holding perfectly still while I lounged across him like a cat.“Normally, you can barely make eye contact with me.Now you’re…” He gestured vaguely.“This.”
“This,” I said with a grin, “is evolution, baby.”
Before he could reply, a perfume cloud hit us—something floral, expensive, and weaponized.I didn’t even have to look to know who it was.
“Dr.Carr,” Joan Stanwyk cooed, sauntering over in a micro-mini dress that screamed “midlife crisis, but make it fashion.”Her hair was so blonde now it glowed under the lights.She planted a manicured hand on Thorne’s shoulder.“Don’t hog the entertainment.”
I turned, giving her a slow, appreciative once-over.“Joan, sweetie, you look like a delicious bad decision.”
Her laugh was a high-pitched trill.“You have no idea.”
“Oh, I think I do,” I said, flashing her a grin.“But I’ve got a show to do.Maybe later, huh?”
The crowd loved that.Laughter, whistles, a couple of people chanting my name again.I stood, tossed my hair, and winked at Thorne.“Don’t go anywhere, professor.I’ve got something special planned for you after the show.”
He looked at me with a mix of amusement and bewilderment that was honestly adorable.I could get lost in that confusion.But the stage called, and Jax never left his audience waiting.
I strutted toward the back hallway, the bass thrumming through the floor, feeling invincible.When I opened the door to the dressing room, I froze.
Juniper stood in front of the makeup mirror, syringe in hand, a vial of shimmering blue serum beside her.
“What the hell are you doing?”I demanded, stepping forward.
