Page 119 of Boiling Point
You are required to attend a preliminary meeting regarding this matter on Monday at 8:30 a.m. in my office, located in Suite 300, Administration Building. The meeting will include myself, the dean of students, and a representative from human resources.
Please note that this is not a formal disciplinary hearing; however, your full cooperation is expected. Until the matter is resolved, you are hereby instructed not to discuss it with students or faculty.
A copy of the relevant policy is attached for your reference.
Sincerely,
Dr. Amrita Singh
Vice President of Academic Affairs
Page College
I pulled away from the screen. “Monday? That’s tomorrow. We literally got back in the country yesterday.”
Cal nodded. “No rest for the wicked.”
I came around the desk and rested a hand on his shoulder. “What do you need me to do?”
He blinked, as if the question surprised him. “Nothing, love,” he said quietly, not looking up. “I’ll go in, sit through their littleperformance, and wait to see if the axe falls before or after lunch.”
“Shouldn’t there be a formal inquiry or something? It can’t just be a one-and-done meeting.”
“Depends how much they know. And I don’t know that yet.” He leaned back slightly, eyes fixed on the wall. “It’s all optics. If they’ve got the upper hand, they’ll use it. Pressure me to sign something, disappear quietly, spare the college the scandal. Nothing worse than bad press.”
He took my hand and kissed my knuckles, slow and distracted.
“I’m more concerned for you than for me.”
“Why? It’s your career on the line, not mine.”
He didn’t answer. He closed the laptop and stared at it. “How bad is the social media fallout?”
I feigned ignorance. “The what?”
He looked up. “I presume that’s what you were checking just now. So, how bad is it?”
I hesitated, replaying the worst of it in my head. “What you’d expect.” It felt glib, but I said it anyway. “Just gossip. No real meat.”
“Are you named?”
“Not that I can tell.” I bit my lip. “Not yet, anyway.”
“That’s a small mercy, at least.” He snapped his chin up, as if remembering something vital. “Have you formally withdrawn from Page yet?”
“Not yet. I was going to submit that this week.”
“Best hold off. At least until we know what they’ve got.”
Chapter 43
Callum
Monday, 8:25 a.m. The administration building reeked of fresh paint and filtered air—an industrial sort of sweetness. The glass on the third floor was so clear it felt more like an absence than a window, a silent threat of falling straight through to the campus quad below.
Suite 300 was a frosted-glass affair with an incongruously cheerful secretary—her hair dyed copper and nails lacquered in what could only be called “litigation red.”
“They’ll be ready for you in a few minutes.”
