After our previous discussion there were still a lot of things I needed to say to Jared. I was caught off guard and unprepared and wanted to make sure that I hadn’t misrepresented myself. He arrived late to our networking meeting the following week and I met him at the door saying, “Don’t leave after this”. He nodded and went to find a place to sit.
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Know with whom you fucketh.
Our follow up coffee talk didn’t happen immediately. Sensing that it would be a point of no return, I was reluctant to schedule it at first. When I was younger, I would do things just for the scandal and to have something to write about. Now, in my older age and with higher stakes, I don’t make a move without a personally compelling reason. So many weeks had gone by marked with awkward verbal exchanges and unanswered texts that I became convinced I had made the whole thing up.
Except I didn’t.
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I met a boy. I knew him for a while actually, but we didn’t know each other at all.
We were in a professional organization. He was there and I was there but his name had too many vowels and I never learned it.
He is a military combat veteran turned doctor of mind fuckery and headmaster of a rehab school for young wizards. Injured in the call of duty and recipient of a purple heart, he runs his business like if a swarm of army ants were an entrepreneur. Handsome and fit, he looks fine on the outside but looks can be deceiving.
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No Rest For The Wicked 