Page 120 of Come Back to Me

He gets to his feet, but his cocky smirk makes me wish I could wipe it off his mouth.

I rub the back of my neck, already feeling the tension headache begin as my instincts stir—this conversation is going to be annoying as fuck—but I rein it in and hope for the best.Only, the second I cross the doorway, I guesstimate the lawyer’s suit costs more than Marty’s car, so I already know how this is going to go.

Doesn’t mean I can’t be creative…

“Let’s face it, gentlemen, this is a waste of my client’s time.”

The lawyer’s opening sally has me smiling at him. The reaction has him narrowing his eyes.

“Marshal, this is James Bennett. He’s representing Mr. Fairweather today.”

Bennett doesn’t hold out his hand for me to shake, but I do. When he sniffs at it, I slowly let my arm fall as I concur, “I think we can both agree this is a waste of time.”

The principal has a better poker face than Marty—we need to work on that. How my second-in-command’s head whips to the side keys everyone into how much of a noob he is.

“Why are we even here then?” Bennett derides.

Derides.

The audacity would be comical if he didn’t have a face worthy of meeting my fist.Is it just me, or does he look a little too much like Miles Faulkner?

“I’m sure you can talk Mr. Fairweather’s way out of a criminal record, Mr. Bennett,” the principal half-growls, “which isn’t going to help his student career. As of today, Mr. Fairweather is expelled from Our Lady of Sorrows.”

“Is that truly necessary?” the lawyer reasons, but for the first time, the brat appears anxious—he sits up in his seat and stops chewing that damn gum. “I’m certain Mr. Fairweather Sr. can be most generous if you’ll see to it that this whole matter can be resolved quietly.”

“One of the reasons people trust Our Lady of Sorrows with their children, Mr. Bennett, is because we have a zero-tolerance drug policy.” Fairweather’s initial smugness further fades at the principal’s refusal to take the bribe. “How would it appear to thepremier of our great province if I allowed one of his daughter’s classmates to continue his studies when we uncovered sufficient cannabis in his locker and on his person to deal, never mind consume personally?”

“There’d be no record of this, ma’am,” Bennett assures her. “If you’d only allow?—”

“There are faculty records,” she clarifies. “And while you can work your wiles in a criminal court, you can’t work them here.

“No, I’m afraid this is the end of the road for Mr. Fairweather at OLS. We dealt with that bullying incident last year, despite it triggering the firing of the previous principal when the board of governors uncovered the truth of the matter, but this is a whole other ball of wax.

“Our zero-tolerance policy is something the school is incredibly proud of.

“This time, James has taken things too far.”

“I’m truly sorry, Dr. Enfield,” James whines, actually sounding his age. “It won’t happen again?—”

“I’m afraid it’s too late for apologies,” she interrupts. “My predecessor warned you that you were on your last chance before his abrupt departure, and instead of taking heed, you decided to skirt around a situation that I cannot, in good conscience, allow you to squirrel away from.”

“Surely the school requires some funding—Mr. Fairweather Sr. can be most generous if required,” Bennett offers.

Dr. Enfield tips up her chin as she flattens her hands on her desk. “My decision is final, Mr. Bennett.”

Deciding to remind them of the real world, I slip into one of the club chairs in front of the desk and bridge my hands on my lap. “Who provided you with the drugs, Mr. Fairweather?”

He cuts a look at his lawyer, who shakes his head. Sneering at me, James retorts, “I don’t have to tell you anything.”

“No, you don’t,” I agree. “And while I’m sure there are ways that your case could be thrown out of court depending on how much money your father tosses at it, I’m certain that I could speak with Dr. Enfield on your behalf. Perhaps your expulsion could become a family decision to change schools.”

Her displeasure at my offer brings in its own weather front—negative twenty with a wind chill worthy of the Arctic. A silent war stirs between us, but she eventually glowers at the lawyer and nods. “The last thing Our Lady of Sorrows would appreciate is giving another child the opportunity of dealing drugs within its walls.”

Bennett doesn’t even acknowledge the boy. “James will share his source if we can keep this off his permanent record.”

“His source? No. I’m aware of the quantity of marijuana found on his person and in his locker. We’re talking a dealer.”

James licks his lips, his nerves clear as he splits a worried glance between his lawyer and the principal. “Amy Nygard.”

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