Author's Note:
This is a stand-alone story that is part of a larger series about the titular character, Nellie. Each story that follows can be read on its own or together, in any particular order, though they will be posted in chronological order. The stories may fall under different categories, but all will tell tales of Nellie's various adventures.
In this adventure, Nellie works as a waitress and gets to know her former professor a bit more personally than she did while taking his class. This story follows the events of Nellie & The Boy Next Door.
**
"That's very disappointing to hear, Nellie. Perhaps we should have a little talk about your final year of school and who, exactly, will be paying for it."
I tilted my head back against the wall. There was no winning with him. If I kept the job I'd taken, he would be upset I didn't come to visit. If I quit and went to visit my dad, I'd be miserable, and there was the very real chance I'd end up fucking J.P. again.
And as great as fucking J.P. was, Anne-Marie had come
very
close to discovering her brother balls-deep in me the last time we'd hooked up. First and foremost, she was my friend. Second, she would have been
ecstatic
that I was finally hooking up with him. She would probably start planning a wedding while we were still trying to get dressed.
And marrying J.P. would kind of suck. I mean, marrying anyone would kind of suck, but a marriage to J.P. would be the kind of thing my father would approve of, making it a questionable decision at best.
"I said I'm sorry, Dad. I need to get something on my resume. I'll come home for a visit later this summer."
"I could have arranged an internship here for the summer."
"I don't need you to arrange anything, I just—"
"Wanted to do this on your own, I know. If you are ready to do all this on your own, perhaps next year's tuition is something else that should be handled on your own."
I swallowed hard, my palms sweating against my phone, and hoped my nerves didn't show through my voice.
"I understand," I said. "I mean, if that's the condition, then I guess I'm sorry to hear that and I'll just find some other way to pay for school."
My father fell silent. I wasn't sure if he was upset or proud that I called his bluff. I also wasn't sure that it was a bluff at all.
"Arrange a trip next month," he said. "The Diamond Gala is the second weekend in July. Kimberlee is on the board and I will be giving a speech. You will attend and I will transfer next year's tuition then."
I let out a breath I didn't know I had been holding.
"Will do. Thanks. I have to go back to work now."
"Goodbye, Eleanor."
He was annoyed enough to use my full name, but I wasn't stupid enough to correct him before hanging up. I wiped my sweating hands on my apron, tucked my phone into the pocket, and shuffled through the backdoor into the kitchen.
"You're late," barked Nigel.
"Sorry," I muttered. "I had to take a call."
"This is the last warning." Nigel shoved a stack of menus at me. "Drop these off at table six and table fifteen just got seated."
Table six was a family consisting of two parents and four children far under the age that should be allowed in a neighbourhood pub. I smiled politely as I handed them the menus before Jessica shoved her way over to the table.
"Hi, I'm Jessica, I'll be your server. Thank you, Nellie, this is my section tonight."
I forced a smile and took the final menu with me as I turned to head to table fifteen. Of course Jessica wanted the six-top; table fifteen only had one person seated at it. I, on the other hand, broke into a genuine smile when I saw him.
"Hey, Professor Cameron."
If you looked up the definition of "silver fox" in the dictionary, you'd see words describing what it means, because that's how dictionaries work. However, if you Googled "examples of a silver fox," a picture of Professor Cameron might just come up near the top of the search results, along with the swooning reviews of every starry-eyed girl on campus.
Silver might have been the wrong word; Professor Cameron's hair was still mostly dark, but had a thick streak of grey over his left temple. The rest was salt-and-pepper, heavy on the pepper. There were a few wrinkles scattered by his eyes, but they only deepened when that bright smile lit up his face.
"Nellie!" he exclaimed. "I didn't know you worked here."
I shrugged as I handed him the menu. "Just for the summer. Build up the savings, you know."
"I'm surprised you didn't try for one of the summer internships at the station. I thought you wanted to be a forensic investigator."
I laughed awkwardly, trying not to show how uncomfortable I was.
"Uh, yeah. I did apply, actually. They, um, didn't accept me."
"A mistake on their part." Professor Cameron took the menu from me. "It's a competitive internship, though, so don't feel too bad. You should have asked me for a reference letter."
"I thought you didn't do reference letters."
He smiled up at me. "For most students, no. For students I actually think are worth being a reference for, yes."
"Is it too late for me to ask for one?"
"I'll see what I can do. Normally I'd tell you to wait until the fall, but you know I'm on sabbatical next year."
I tried to hold back an ecstatic grin, but failed as I nodded. "Can I get you a drink?"
"Normally I don't fraternize with my students. Or is this bribery?"
"Former student, but don't worry. I'll put it on your bill."
He laughed, shaking his head. "You're quick. I'll take whatever lager you've got on tap."
My stomach fluttered hopefully as I crossed to the bar to get Professor Cameron's beer. I'd taken three of his classes over the past couple of years, and he was one of my favourite professors. He specialized in Forensic Psychology, which was always interesting, but he made it even more enthralling with personal tales of the convicts he'd evaluated and cases he'd been involved in. Despite having two PhDs, he refused to be called Doctor, and insisted on being called Professor Cameron because he said teaching was the accomplishment he was most proud of.
I didn't know whether that was true or not, but he was a hell of a good professor. When I found out he would be on sabbatical for the last year of my degree, I took the 400-level course he taught a year early just so I could have him as the teacher.
In addition to being a silver fox, Professor Cameron had the reputation of being one of the toughest professors on campus. People swapped horror stories of failing grades in his classes; claims of his refusal to help students were legendary. He encouraged the stories, but it only took a few weeks of actually taking classes with him to learn they were bullshit. He was a picky marker, sure, but he respected hard work and people who actually wanted to be there. If he saw potential in someone, he tried to foster it. He had no time for people who skipped class or slept through it, but his office door was always open to students who needed a little more explanation on one of the topics he covered.
Which was why, despite being mostly interested in the practical, scientific side of crime scene investigation, I had taken all the courses Professor Cameron offered for my degree.
And, of course, the whole silver fox thing.
When I brought the beer back to his table, Professor Cameron had closed the menu and was idly browsing a newspaper.
"Decide on some food?" I asked, setting the beer down.
He smiled up at me. "Bring me whatever your favourite meal from this place is. I trust you."
"My favourite? Oh man. I'm a chicken-strips-and-fries kind of person. Are you sure?"
"Are the chicken strips good?"
"I mean, yeah. They're made in-house, so—"
"Perfect. I'll have that."
I didn't get a chance to talk to him much after that. Nigel seated three couples and a family of four in my section, which was a lot considering I was still pretty new to the job. A short while after that, Jessica threw a fit in the kitchen and stormed off just before table six's food was ready, so I ended up running food for her section. The bar got backed up and I jumped in to pour drinks, then Nigel yelled at me for using the wrong glass for a rum-and-coke that was going to table two.
When Professor Cameron's order was up, I grabbed it before Nigel could run the food for me.
"Sorry for the wait," I said as I placed it in front of him. "We got slammed all of a sudden."
