Razor's Edge: A Bad Boy Romance (Bad Boys of Football Book 2) (2 page)

I
 
hated people who spit when they talked, especially when said person was speaking, or in his case, screaming at me. Again.

“You’ve got to take control. These are kids. How hard could it be to keep a bunch of five year olds in line? I’m beginning to think those five years you spent teaching in Spain were a lie. Who knows; maybe you spent the last few years backpacking or sightseeing because I sure don’t see any evidence you were teaching children,” Principal Cantor spewed his words at me as if they wouldn’t hurt my feelings, but they did.

Over the last eighteen months, so much of my life had changed. Maybe I was being a bit too sensitive, but his words really bothered me. I was trying my best. I thought, returning home was the best thing for me to do. I thought being around old friends and new students would help me deal with my loss. It was obvious now that accepting this job wasn’t the best decision for me. My belief I’d somehow do some good or be able to turn my grief into triumph had proven to be wrong. I’d failed miserably.

“I’m sorry. You don’t understand. This child is going through something. I know it. I know I’ve only been here a short time, but I can tell something is very wrong. That’s why he’s acting out. All I’m asking is for someone to speak to him. Tell me what their thoughts are. I don’t think I need to be berated because a child has acted out,” I said to defend myself and, hopefully, get through to him and make him do his job.

“Mrs. Jackson,” he started, “my job is to make sure you do your job. Take my advice. It will save you a lot of trouble. Edgecott Razor is not the problem. Life will run a whole lot smoother if you remember that.”

Is this man alright? Did he get dropped on his head?

“Edge -- that’s what he prefers to be called -- is having a problem. I never said he
was
the problem. I don’t understand what’s going on here. I asked the school counselor to meet with him and all of a sudden you drag me down here to tell me to leave this child alone? Why? What’s the big deal?” I wasn’t going to sit back and let the poor little boy suffer in silence. That wouldn’t have been right.

Principal Cantor sat back in his seat, rubbing his hand across his glistening, bald head. “This discussion is over. Get back to class and try to keep the noise contained,” he said, waving me off like I was a pesky fly.

The school secretary and my best friend in the world, Felicia, had heard the whole exchange. I could tell because she had the look on her face -- that sour pussed face a mother would give you when a child had misbehaved in church. “I told you to leave the boy alone,” she said. “Cantor doesn’t like controversy. I don’t know; maybe, it’s a Chicago thing, but some people are more important than others around here. That kid -- what’s his name? He’s one of them. He went to preschool here last year. I don’t remember why, but I know, Cantor ruled him off-limits when it came to disciplinary action. He could get away with murder.”

I slumped down on the bench reserved for children who’d been asked to speak to the principal. “His name is Edgecott.. well, Edge.” I corrected her. “Did I ever tell you, I used to know a guy with the same name? He hated his name as a kid, but no one ever gave him a hard time about it because he was like three times the size of most of us. I wonder whatever happened to him. He’s probably in jail somewhere. The boy was hard-headed. Kind of like this little guy. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say they could be related.”

“Do you hear yourself?” Felicia asked. “You’re talking about something that happened twenty years ago when you should be in there dealing with those little bad ass kids in your class.”

She didn’t have to tell me twice. I could only imagine what my room full of kindergartners had gotten into while I was away. The classroom grandmother loved them, but she also let them walk all over her. “I’ll see you later. Do you want to have lunch in my room?”

“You’re on. I’m starving. Let’s order from the Chinese place around the corner. I heard the food is pretty good now that they got rid of the mean old cook,” Felicia had a story about everyone and everything. You’d think she grew up in Chicago the way she knew everything there was to know about everyone in the neighborhood. She was both a news and gossip junkie, but I loved her for it.

I agreed and started to make my way back to my room.

“Hey, what are the chances your old friend is this kid’s dad?” Felicia asked.

I shrugged, laughing it off. “I doubt it. And, he was never my friend. I can’t imagine he’d be the type to stick around if he knocked someone up. From what I could tell, Edge’s father is pretty involved. He signs all the paperwork and daily folders. The guy I knew barely turned in any of his assignments, so yeah, it can’t be him.” I went back to my classroom to find a little more chaos than I’d expected.

Great.

Three long hours later, my stomach was growling and the hair I’d paid two hundred dollars to have done was a mess on top my head.

“You look like shit,” Felicia teased. “Rough morning?”

“I’ll ignore that, rude butt!” I opened my carton of shrimp fried rice and took a huge bite.

“Was it Edge again?” Felicia asked as she took a bite of her Crab Rangoon.

I walked over and shut the door to make sure no one would overhear what I had to say, especially my nosy ass principal. “He’s not really bad, he’s just naughty sometimes. He kicks or yells out of nowhere. If you tell him to go right, he goes left. If he wasn’t so darn cute, I’d kick him out of my room, but I can’t. Plus, the little guy is a sharp dresser. He spiffs up the joint.”

“I know what’s wrong with him,” Felicia said, a spoonful of my rice in her hand.

“Eat your own! What’s his problem, Miss Psychiatrist?” I teased her. “Well-dressed people get a pass in the city of Chicago?”

“He’s a
he
.” Felicia shrugged. “He’s a male. Lord knows what’s going on in their heads! He can’t help it. Learn to deal with it or you’ll go crazy and you don’t need that in your life right now. I don’t care how well he dresses; bad is bad. Just remember, getting stressed out over something the boy can’t help because it’s in his DNA isn’t worth it.”

She was right; I didn’t need to get worked up over nothing.

“It’s been eighteen months,” I mumbled.

“I know,” Felicia said, patting my hand. “You’ve been through a lot, but look how far you’ve come. He’d be so proud of you.”

I fought to keep tears at bay. I was tired of crying, but I also felt guilty when I didn’t cry. “I miss him.”

Felicia nodded. “I miss him too. Hell, he left me alone with only our dumbass sister to keep me company. You know that heifer can’t do nothing right. I swear, if she don’t get it together, she’s going to end up in the loony bin or put my parents in one.”

A shrill ringing sound played over the intercom. “Mrs. Jackson?” Principal Cantor bellowed. “Come to the office right away.”

“Why do you let him call you that? My brother has been gone a while; do you still want to be referred to as his wife?” Felicia whispered.

“I’m eating lunch,” I answered, rolling my eyes. I didn’t have an answer for Felicia. When I married her brother, I thought it’d be forever. I didn’t know what the protocol was for when your spouse died. Was I still his wife?

“Now!” Cantor demanded.

Felicia promised to clean things up while I adjusted my attitude before going down to see what he wanted. “Good luck,” Felicia said.

“I hope he fires me,” I joked. “I need the vacation.”

As I rounded the corner to go into the office, I noticed a man standing with his back to me. His stance was solid, like a wall, but he had swagger. A beard covered his chin, but it wasn’t scruffy and ugly like some I’d seen over the years. It was well-manicured, glistening with product. Probably an expensive product, if I had to guess. He smelled divine and looked like luxury.

“Here she is,” Principal Cantor said, pointing to me.

The man turned around. My knees went weak. To say this man was gorgeous would have been an understatement. His eyes were pantie melting hot. If I ever had to describe him again, I’d never be able to pinpoint exactly what color they were other than plain gorgeous. Flecks of green, yellow, and almost orange were the only words I’d use to semi-describe them. Set against his tanned skin and dark hair, they were heart stopping beautiful.

“You’re Mrs. Jackson?” he asked, his eyes traveling down my body, landing on my hips.

My words were barely audible. “Um… yes.”

“Well, damn! No wonder my boy is so distracted,” he said, licking his lips.

I pulled my eyes from their position studying what I would bet was a tattoo sleeve on his arm. Part of it poked out of his shirt sleeve. “What can I help you with?” I asked.

“This is Mr. Razor. He’s Edgecott’s father,” Principal Cantor said.

“Edge.” Mr. Razor and I said simultaneously. “He likes to be called Edge.”

He turned to face me. “Have we met before?” he asked.

No, baby. I would have remembered you
, I thought.

“I don’t think so. I just moved back to Chicago this summer. I spent the last few years living in Spain with my husband,” I explained.

He shook his head. “Your husband? You’re married?” His eyes fell to my noticeably empty ring finger. “No ring?”

I covered my hand with the other, feeling self-conscience about having removed the ring from my hand. “My husband died almost two years ago. I wear our rings on my chain.” It still hurt so much to say my husband was gone.

“Sorry. Damn, now I feel bad for coming down here to yell at you,” Mr. Razor said.

“Thank you, but did you say you came down here to yell at me?” I asked.

Principal Cantor spoke up. “I told you, there would be problems. I’m sure Mr. Razor can handle whatever is going on without involving counselors.”

Oh, here we go again!

“Let’s start again. I’m E.J. Razor, Edge’s father,” he said to me, offering a hand for me to shake.

“I gathered that much. Nice to meet you, I suppose. I mean, now that I know you’re not going to scream at me,” I offered.

He studied my face. “Where are you from originally?”

Immediately my defenses were up. I thought he was going to say something ignorant, like I was from a strange, foreign land or something. “I’m from here. I grew up on the south side,” I answered.

His eyes lit up. “You did? So did I! What school did you go to?” he asked.

“Saint Thomas Moore for elementary school. I graduated from Clark High School,” I said.

He stepped closer to me.

My breath caught.

“So did I! What was your maiden name?” he asked.

That’s when it hit me. “You’re Edgecott Moranowski? But didn’t you say…” My voice trailed off as I tried to conjure up an image of the foul-mouthed guy I went to school with; the guy who thought he walked on water. “Not to be rude, but your eyes were a different color back then, weren’t they?”

“Contacts,” he explained, winking at me. “Razor is new too. It rolls off the tongue better than Moranowski does, don’t you think?”

I studied him harder this time. I remembered Edgecott being a hot looking guy, but not this hot and not with these muscles. He had a certain maturity and massive sex appeal now. I mean, full-on manly sex appeal. He was, for lack of a better word, beautiful. Dangerously beautiful.

“Mrs. Jackson,” Principal Cantor started. “Why don’t you take a moment to listen to what Mr. Razor has to say?”

How could I refuse? I could listen to him read the phone book if he wanted me to, but I had a classroom full of kids that would be returning from recess soon. “What about my class?” I asked.