Page 7 of Wicked Scandal

The way he looked at me when he offered me this job wasn’t something I could turn down. At the end of the day, he’s right. This could be great for both of us.

“I guess it’s settled then.” I shoot a thumb over my shoulder. “I should get some sleep. Night, Dad.”

He holds up his glass in cheers to me again and I smile before walking up to my room. Everything lately feels like it’s happening so fast. High school will be over soon. My friends and Rome and my stepsister Elodie will head off to college, then I’ll start working and eventually move out of my father’s house.

As much as I’m ready for these changes, I can’t help but feel like it’s a lot to handle.

As I lie down on my bed, staring at the ceiling, I feel an immense amount of pressure. I fear my dad is putting far too much faith in me. I helped him one time and now he wants me to work on his speeches for the entire election. Aren’t there professionals who do this shit?

The only way I can do this satisfactorily is with help.

A random thought pops in my head.

I think I know who can help me.

A few months ago, Mrs. Jenkins, our American literature teacher, helped me with an essay. Dad might not like it, considering she’s married to our current mayor who he’s also running against. But, I’d be doing this for him. That’s assuming she’d even help me, given the circumstances.

Mrs. Jenkins is well versed in literature and grammar. She’s the type of person Dad should want working on his speeches, not me.

I have so much respect for him as a father, a businessman, and as a human altogether. If I’m going to do this, I want to do it right.

There are a few other people I could ask, but Mrs. Jenkins and I work together so well and I actually learn from her. A lot of our other teachers try, but they don’t have the same spark she does. When I walk into her class, I feel like she wants me to walk out a smarter person, and she gives me every tool I could need to make it happen.

That’s probably why my essay got me into the business classes I wanted to take early. They are technically classes for juniors in college. But Mrs. Jenkins helped me prove I was capable with my essay.

I find myself smiling as I think back to us working together. We had a lot of fun and laughs during that time. After a while, she didn’t even feel like my teacher anymore. She became someone I just wanted to spend more time with.

It was also during that time that I formed an opinion of our current mayor, her husband.

One night Mrs. Jenkins and I were working late at the school when Mayor Jenkins showed up unexpectedly. Fuming, as if he had just caught her doing something illegal, he demanded to speak to her in the hall. I could tell he had embarrassed her as she whispered that she’d be right back. I could hear him plain as day out there. His voice was loud and authoritative as if he was speaking to a rebellious juvenile, not his wife.

He told her she needed to get home immediately and that she should know better. Know what better? I couldn’t understand why he was so pissed, but I chalked it up to marital issues that were none of my business. Regardless, I didn’t like the way he talked to her.

A minute later, Mrs. Jenkins came back into the room, rushing to put everything away. I could see the humiliation on her face as she hung her head low and avoided eye contact with me.

I tried to make things easy on her and helped clean up the coffees I brought us before packing my bag quickly. She didn’t even look at me as she gathered her things and tried to apologize. I said it was no big deal and walked out, but not before looking back at the man I thought was the composed leader of our town. It was shocking to see him so out of sorts. His hair was tousled, as if he had been pulling on the strands, and his shirt was only halfway buttoned and crooked.

Something tells me he’s not the man everyone thinks he is. But I didn’t say anything as I watched him all but shove her into his car and slam the door so hard it rattled. I just let her go because I feared that saying anything would only make the situation worse.

I got an unsettling feeling that night. When she wasn’t in class the next day, that feeling only grew. By the time school ended, my stomach felt like it was in knots, so I used our email portal to reach out and check on her. She assured me everything was fine and she just had a bit of a head cold.

The next time I saw her, she pretended as if nothing had happened. I still get this uneasy feeling today when I think about that evening, and my opinion of the current mayor has only worsened since then.

As for my opinion of her, she’s too good for him. I don’t even have to know him to know that. Mrs. Jenkins is class and beauty—she’s timid and kind.

I turn on my side in bed and a smile stretches across my face just thinking about getting to work with her again, one-on-one. Maybe this speech writing thing won’t be so bad, after all.

CHAPTER 2

CATHERINE

“If everyone could find their seats, we’ll get started.” I stand up from my chair behind my desk and smooth my hands down my burnt orange turtleneck dress. It’s not fitting for the weather, considering it’s supposed to hit seventy degrees today, but it’s raining so I won’t have to be outdoors.

My eyes skim the crowd of students who are now seated, all but one. “Rome.” I clear my throat, eyebrows raised as he continues to chat among his classmates. “That means you, too.”

Rome scoffs before kissing his girlfriend, who is also his stepsister, on top of the head. It’s a weird situation but also none of my business. To each their own.

Rome drops down beside Wilder, stretching back in his seat with his hands folded behind his head. “Happy?”

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