Her Dirty Professor Series (21+)

Suddenly, the sound of my phone buzzing interrupts my thoughts. I grimace, recognizing the ringtone because it’s my mother. I debate ignoring Angela’s incoming video call, but all that will do is make her continue to dial me nonstop.

Taking a steadying breath, I press the ‘answer’ button and my mother’s face pops onto the screen.

“Chrissy,” Angela says sharply, her voice raspy from her pack-a-day habit. “I called you three times yesterday. Why didn’t you answer?”

Because I didn’t want to talk? I think wryly. But common sense gets the best of me, and I bite my tongue.

“Oh, I was at work,” I reply, hoping my mother doesn’t probe further. “I didn’t get home until late, and I didn’t want to wake you up.”Belongs to © n0velDrama.Org.

“Fine,” my mom harrumphs grumpily. “By the way, where are you now? I don’t recognize your location,” she says, eyeing an eggshell-colored statuette behind me with suspicion.

“I’m at a friend’s place,” I lie with almost too much ease. After all, I can’t tell Angela who I’m sleeping with. She would go absolutely berserk, seeing that she used to be married to Rick and Ryder’s dad. “Why, what’s going on, Mom? Why are you calling?”

The older woman flips her blonde hair over one shoulder, like an aging beauty queen. But that’s the problem: my mom’s age. When you’re young and pretty, you can get away with a lot. But Angela crossed the hump into middle age a while ago, and she’s got crow’s feet, as well as pucker lines around her thinning lips. Even so, she still acts like a beauty queen and flies into a rage when the world doesn’t kowtow at her feet.

With a sigh, I ask again. “What’s up, Mom? What can I help you with?”

Angela immediately launches into a rant about her lack of money, and how she’s scraping to get by. There’s some truth to her words because she got a nice chunk of change from Fred Walsh as part of her divorce settlement. But of course, she blew through it within a year on frivolous items like overpriced lipstick and an acid-green Ferrari. That car was the ugliest thing, but Angela called it “the Viper” and loved speeding through the streets of Sheridan while showing off her new toy.

But of course, my mom wasn’t done with men by a long shot. Within a year of leaving Fred, she married the pool boy who was the cause of their divorce, but of course, a pool boy doesn’t make much. Under severe economic strain, they also got divorced after a couple years and then, I think Angela got married again, although I’m not sure. With so many marriages and break-ups, even I, her daughter, can’t keep up.

As if on cue, my mom whines.

“I’m poor, Chrissy,” Angela speaks in a shrill voice. “It’s not right that things are this way.”

“You’re not poor, Mom,” I remind her for the hundredth time.

“I am, I have nothing.” Her eyes glisten with crocodile tears even as she waves a perfectly-manicured hand about.

“You have a nice house, and you still have some alimony, right?” I say in a neutral tone. “Didn’t Randolph, your latest husband, consent to alimony payments for at least five years?”

Angela’s face shrivels up, prune-like.

“My house is shitty and you know the alimony ended last year,” she hisses. “I should be living in a mansion, and instead, I’m living in this salt-box piece of crap that should be razed.”

I bite my bottom lip because Buddy the Pool Boy spent his life savings buying that salt box piece of crap for Angela, and Randolph the personal trainer probably works his ass off to meet his alimony obligations. But this is all lost on Angela because she can’t get over herself. Again, my mom still sees herself as a stunning beauty queen who deserves a rich man and a glamorous life.

Thank god I’ve never told her about my relationship with Rick and Ryder because I’m sure she’d be trying to milk them for spare cash. Everyone knows the twins are rich, and my mom would come sniffing like a bloodhound on a trail. The thought makes shivers go down my spine. How awful. I’d be humiliated, and it’s better to protect the twins from her rapacious ways. I could never forgive myself for subjecting them to the horror that is my mother.

OMG, I’ve fallen in love with Rick and Ryder, I think suddenly. That’s why I want to shield them from Angela.

Is it true? Nearly gasping aloud, I toy with this admission as my mom goes on and on about her bills and horrible life. But internally, a warm feeling spreads over my chest, and I know that the emotion is real. Rick and Ryder are fantastic lovers, but more importantly, they’re powerful, intelligent and caring men. The brothers are different, yet similar, and I’ve fallen for them both with equal passion. Ryder is stoic and calm, my port in a storm. Rick is lighthearted and kind, always able to brighten my day. Together, they make for a powerful combination, and I’m the lucky girl who gets to enjoy their attentions.

“Are you even listening?” Angela’s sharp voice breaks into my thoughts.

Wincing, I smile weakly. “I am, Mom. I just have a lot on my plate, that’s all.”

“A lot on your plate?” Angela sniffs. “What are you talking about? You’re just a salesgirl at a lingerie shop. Imagine what it was like for me when I was your age! I was a single mother with a daughter to take care of, and I had to provide. I sacrificed everything for you, you know.”

I manage not to visibly wince.

“I know,” I offer as diplomatically as possible. “And thank you, Angela.”

But now, she’s off to the races.

“Do you think I loved Fred Walsh?” she demands, her eyes bugging out and her face turning red. “That man was seventy if a day when we tied the knot, and I only married him so I could provide for you, Chrissy.”

I wince. I desperately want to remind my mother that she didn’t marry Fred for me she married him for his money, which is different. But it’s her own damn fault for cheating on Fred with the pool boy. What did she think was going to happen? Fred might have been old, but he’s not deaf, blind and dumb. With the way Angela and Buddy were going at it in the pool house, anyone would know what was happening.

But of course, I say nothing, instead nodding along to my mother’s rant.

“And Buddy don’t even get me started on that jackass.”

Once more, I stifle the urge to defend my mother’s third husband. Buddy’s not a bad guy; he even legally adopted me and gave me his last name, Stanton. But even though he had his own business cleaning swimming pools all around Sheridan, it was never enough. Fishing for leaves is not exactly the most lucrative profession, and Angela’s needs are great. She loves luxury goods and designer clothes, and soon enough, divorce papers were filed.

“Well, are you seeing anyone now?” I ask Angela, hoping to change the subject. “I’m sure there are lots of eligible men in Sheridan.”

“Who on Earth would I be seeing in this hellhole?” Angela screeches, irate. “This place gives new meaning to slim pickings, and I swear, I should move to Dallas or Houston. God knows things couldn’t be worse.”

A number of retorts poise on the tip of my tongue, but I manage to keep them inside. Instead, I merely take another sip of coffee, smiling placidly.

“I’m sure you’ll find someone. You’re very beautiful, Mom.”

Suddenly, Angela comes straight to the point.

“I need money,” she says in a flat voice. “Do you have any?” Just like that classless as usual. I knew it was coming, as it always does.

For about the thousandth time in my life, I refuse. “Mom, you know I don’t have any extra funds. I’m barely scraping by as is.”

“You do, Chrissy, I know you do. You’ve got that cushy job at the lingerie shop,” she whines.

I shake my head at the camera.

“Angela, you’re the one who just told me that I’m nothing but a salesgirl. So how can I be loaded? That makes no sense.”

Angela merely shrugs.

“Yeah, but you have nothing to spend your salary on. Besides, you owe me, Chrissy. After everything I’ve done for you, and sacrificed for you.”

Biting my bottom lip, I merely shake my head, suddenly exhausted. “It’s a retail job, Mom. I make minimum wage.”

“Well, what about the cash you’re saving for your business?” she demands ruthlessly. “You know, that lingerie line? It’s not like your dream is going to amount to anything. I mean, let’s get real, Chris. You don’t have what it takes. Besides, you’re going to be stuck in Sheridan forever, baby girl, just like me. It’s not like we have some magical escape route that leads straight to a charming prince! At the very least I raised you to be realistic, if nothing else.”

I swallow hard, trying to contain my tears. Again, it’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her that Ayema by Chrissy will be launching soon, and that in fact, I’m dating two successful and handsome CEOs from New York. But instead, I let her rain insults down upon me. It’s better this way because the truth is that my stepbrothers are absurdly rich, and Angela will stop at nothing to get her hands on that kind of wealth.

Suddenly, I feel the urge to vomit uncontrollably.

“Mom, I have to go. I have things to get done today.”

“Don’t you dare hang up on me, you ungrateful girl,” Angela snaps.

“I’ll talk to you later,” I say, panting, before ending the call.

Seconds later, I dash to the bathroom and hurl into the toilet. My skin is pale, my forehead clammy. I stare at myself in the mirror, hardly recognizing the haggard face looking back at me. But then I grab a washcloth and wet it, before pressing the damp fabric to my forehead. After all, talking to my mom always does this to me. Angela makes me physically ill and unfortunately, there’s no avoiding her, this time or ever.