"Yes, Harris?" I walk to the professor.
"I am very impressed by your work, Ms. Clark." He smiles at me while he puts his papers away. "Here take a seat," He points to the student desk next to me and I sit down as he comes around to stand in front of me, leaning back on his own desk.
"Are you referring to my paper?" I ask. We had just turned a big research paper, worth a decent percentage of our grade, and I was nervous as hell about what he thought of it.
"No, no," He laughs, "Although..." He rotates his body around so he can grab something off his desk. When he turns back, I see it is my paper. "It was very well written." He hands it to me and I see a nice red "A" printed on the front. I mentally pat myself on the back.
"I was just talking in general. You are an exceptional student and I thoroughly enjoy having you in my class."
"And I enjoy you as a teacher," I comment back.
He smiles, "Much appreciated." Then he crosses his arms and sighs heavily, a look of anxiety on his face.
"Listen, Ms. Clark. I know I've only been a professor for two years, but I also know that what I'm about to say next wouldn't be acceptable for a professor with a lifetime of experience." I squirm in my seat. I don't know what is making him so distraught. I thought about all those girls throwing themselves at him and hope he doesn't think I'm doing the same when I answer his questions so often.
"It's just you are far beyond what this class can offer you. You are an extraordinary girl and your instincts are one of a professional counselor."
"Professor Harris, what are you trying to say?" I question with uneasiness, but hope he doesn't catch the tremor in my voice.
"Well I have this nephew," He starts and I relax a little.
"And he is in this band," He continues. "And I think they're really talented and you would probably enjoy their music, stuff for the young generation, you know." I laugh because he's really only five or six years older than me, the same generation in my mind. "They have a bit of an edgier sound, but hey if I can stand it, I'm sure you can too." I can tell he's mumbling and trying to diverge from what he's really trying to say.
"Professor?" I try to get him to focus.
He catches himself, "Right, anyways, they are really talented and starting to get some attention from some pretty big producers. But basically they have a little something holding them back."
His jaw tightens and he tries to rub it loose. I'm still fidgeting in my seat.
"Their lead singer, well he's gotten down a rough path." He says, and I can tell he is covertly implying, based on the context of this class, that this alleged singer does drugs. "And they'll never get signed with an addict in the group." Harris says a bit more bluntly, confirming my thoughts. "I got them an interview a while back with a former university buddy who's pretty big in the music field and he's very interested, but not if we can't get this 'matter' straightened out."
"So, how does this involve me, exactly?" I finally ask.
"Well..."
I can tell that this is hard for him. It's so outside of his comfort zone, it must be pretty important.
"Trust me, if I could, I would do it myself, but I have my classes to teach and they're trying to keep this private, you know, for publicity."
"Professor," I repeat to get him focused again.
"They want to hire you as a live in drug therapist to get him off his addiction and allow him to be committed solely to the music and the band." He spills out, not taking a single breath.
