The Teacher

3: SKYLAR

The meeting wasn't a meeting at all. Bennett seemed like he wanted a drinking buddy for the afternoon. Not once did he want to discuss business, which made my blood boil; however, I needed to play nice until the ink dried on the dotted line—whenever that may be. I leave the lounge, sliding into my idling SUV. I take the water bottle out of the bag next to me. I chug it and then grab another, chugging that one too. I don't like drinking. I used to drink, but now I have two little ones who rely solely on me.

My phone rings, and Roxie's name flashes on the screen.

"Roxie?"

"How did the meeting go? Did you get him to sign?"

"It wasn't a meeting at all. Bennett wanted company as he drank. I told him we would set up another meeting with him at the office. How are my daughters doing?"

"Sleeping and noted no more outside office meetings with Mr. Bennett."

"I should be back at the office in an hour. In forty minutes, wake up the girls and get them ready. I'll call when I'm five minutes out so you can bring them downstairs."

"Sure thing, boss."

I end the call, letting out a deep breath. My head is pounding. Seems like I'm not a drinker anymore after all. I spot a convenience store ahead, telling the driver to stop there. I need painkillers and fast. As I walk into the store, I try to maintain a calm, cool, and collective demeanor. Spotting the painkillers behind the counter. I first go to the drink section. Gatorade, I need Gatorade. I spot a few ladies down the snack aisle, and it doesn't surprise me that when I walk by them, they comment on my appearance.

I'm not cocky, but I know I look damn good. Rich, handsome, great in the bedroom and kitchen—I'm a rare find nowadays. However, I don't put myself out there. Opening the cooler doors, I feel a presence behind me.

"Excuse me."

Turning around, I came face to face with one of the women who was down the snack aisle. Her black hair is cut in a sleek bob style, and her makeup is too dramatic for me. My eyes sweep over her body; the little orange dress clings to her skin. Now that I like. I haven't had sex in three weeks, and right now, I need a release, and she looks like the perfect candidate for a quickie—shit, the girls.

"Yes?"

She looks down at my left hand and smiles. This one has morals; I respect that.

"The ladies and I are going to head to a bar; if you don't have any plans, you are free to join us." She winks.

I open my mouth to politely decline when I hear my last name. My driver, Jerry, walks into the store, and I spot him waving my cell phone. Apologizing to the woman, I move quickly to the front with my drink. Jerry hands me the phone. It's Roxie.

"What is going on, Roxie?"

"Daddy?" Bella answers.

"Yes, princess?" I let Jerry know to get me some painkillers, and I head to the door when the store owner gives me a look. I point to Jerry and walk out with the Gatorade in hand. "Princess, is everything okay?"

"Are you coming back now? We want to go home."

"Yes, I'm on my way. I'll be there in forty minutes." I get back in the SUV, awaiting Jerry. I hear Roxie asking Bella for the phone, and she clears her throat.

"Mr. Styrke, would you like it if I took them home? We will be arriving at the same time as you. There is no need to head this way to turn back around."

This is why Roxie is my right-hand woman. She knows me better than anyone, knows what I need, and asks before I do. "Thank you, and please remember to put them in their car seats." Something I shouldn't have to remind her of, but Roxie doesn't deal with my daughters on a daily basis, so last time she took them somewhere—there were no car seats involved, and I damn near fired her. Now, she keeps a set in the trunk of her car.

"Yes, boss." I hear a slight annoyance in her tone. I'll let it pass this once.

Jerry gets in the car at the same time I end the call. I let him know we would head back to my home instead. Nodding, he turns slightly in his chair to hand me the painkillers. Ripping the package open, I pop the two pills and wash it down with the Gatorade. Maybe giving the nannies the night off was a bad idea—no, they deserve an extra night off for themselves. I should have limited myself on how much I drank.

I dozed off during the ride, not waking until Jerry opened the back door and the cool summer breeze flew into the SUV. Opening my eyes, Jerry gives me a polite nod. I exit the vehicle, stopping Roxie's car, and the porch light is on. Saying goodbye to Jerry, I head inside, and it's quiet. Roxie is probably putting the girls to bed, but today is Friday, so they can stay up a little later.

Making my way upstairs, I hear talking and laughter from the theater room. Bella and Gabby are putting makeup on Roxie as a Miraculous Ladybug movie plays on the screen. Roxie would make for a great stepmother, but she and I aren't compatible. Roxie is two years older than me, has a nice body, and a semi-great personality, but she doesn't have a submissive bone in her body. Yes, she does it at work because I pay her well to follow directions, but that is where it stops.

My knuckles knock against the open door. Bella and Gabs drop the makeup brushes and rush towards me. Squatting down, I engulf them in a big hug as they shower my cheeks with kisses.

"Daddy, we did Roxie's makeup." Gabby smiles from ear to ear.

"She looks pretty," Bella adds. "Come look."

I follow them back to Roxie, and she looks pretty ugly. Why would she sit still and allow such torture? Around her eyes are black, and she has yellow, blue, and purple colors all over her face. The red lipstick makes her look like the Joker.

"Daddy, tell Roxie she looks pretty."

"Don't say anything," she stands up, huffing. "Isabella and Gabriella, have a good night. Boss, I'll see you tomorrow."

She moves to walk around me, and I stop her. "You can stay at the guest house. It's late."

"Thank you, but no thank you. I have plans tonight."

I nod. "Very well. Drive safely."

She continues heading to the door. I tell the girls to sit and watch the movie, and I'll be right back. As I leave the room, Roxie is already heading down the first flight of stairs. I catch up to her, making her stop by grabbing her bicep. She tensed up, and I let her go.

"You can clean your face off before leaving." I clear my throat. "I have face wipes."

"You do?"

I raise my right hand, rubbing the back of my neck.

"Boss? Care to share?"

"Nothing. You can use the guest room on the second floor." I wave her off. I've had my fair share of makeup days with the girls—makeup days I would like to keep a secret. I've had more lipstick on my lips in the past two years than in my early twenties. Anything for my daughters', but a few months ago, I ended it. Whatever blush the nannies were buying was not doing my skin any good. I purchased hundreds of doll babies for them to play makeup artist with. I was no longer the guinea pig.

"I have wipes in the car."

I looked over my shoulder, offering to walk her to the door, which she politely declined. I tell her to put the automated lock on when she leaves—making my way back to the theatre room, and my phone rings.

Wren Dunnginham. Now, why is she calling me this late?

"Hello?" I finally answered on the fourth ring. "Hello?" Wherever the hell she is at is loud. I move the phone away from my ear, getting ready to hang up, and then she speaks.

"Mr. Styrke ." Her words are slurred.

"Ms. Dunningham, this is highly inappropriate."

"Inappropriate is you coming in my dreams every night. Making me—"

"Who the hell are you on the phone with now? Who is Mr. IT? Did you butt-dial your school's technician?" Must be a friend of Ms. Dunngham's. "Hello? I'm so sorry Wren called you. Please forgive her. I'll make sure she apologizes to you when she sees you next week. Bye." The call ends, and I stare down at my phone.

It's good to know I won't be the only one dreaming of us in various positions tonight.