Chapter Forty-Six

Hunter

Snickers from my students greet me when I enter the classroom the next morning.

Then silence.

And stares.

I suppose this is what I get for ignoring social media. Who knows what kind of shitstorm is taking place online?

“All right,” I say, setting down my messenger bag, pulling out my iPad, and finding today’s lesson plan. “We ended last time talking about Heathcliff and how he’s a classic Byronic hero. Today, I want to focus more on Catherine and her role in the story in preparation for your next paper.”

The expected groans don’t come.

I raise my eyebrows. “Great! I see you’re excited about the next paper. That’s good news. It will be a compare and contrast of either Heathcliff or Catherine with a similar contemporary hero of your choice. And yes, it can be Anakin Skywalker or any other movie or comic book hero. I won’t limit it to literature only.”

They’re still eerily silent.

I breathe in, hold it, and exhale. Best to be proactive in situations like these.

“You’ve no doubt seen what’s happening on social media. Yes, I wrote a novel of erotic fiction under a pen name. It will be releasing in a few months. That’s all I’m going to say on the matter. Now, let’s talk Catherine Earnshaw. Dina, could you tell us some of the characteristics of our heroine?”

Dina Strauss always sits in the front row, always participates, and always has something insightful to say.

“Uh…yeah. Sure, Dr. Stone.” She grabs her paperback of Wuthering Heights and flips through it.

Unusual for her.

“Anyone else?” I ask.

“Do you teach erotica?” someone asks from the back.

Here it comes…

“No. Anyone have anything to say about Catherine? You should have all finished the novel by now.” I glance at the student next to Dina who’s trying hard to focus on whatever is in front of her. “SueAnn? Anything?”

She looks up, her cheeks red. “I’m afraid I haven’t had time to finish reading yet.”

“I see. David, how about you?”

“Catherine is clearly torn between her ambition and her aching desire for Heathcliff.”

“Aching desire,” I say. “An accurate way to put it.”

And an odd way, coming from David Larson, a science geek who’s taking this class for general ed credit.

David looks back down at his iPad, his eyes moving back and forth as if reading.

“Do you have something more interesting, Dave?” I ask. “Or are you rereading Wuthering Heights?”

David meets my gaze, pushing his glasses up. His cheeks are red now. I’ve embarrassed him.

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Just rereading.”

“Tell me. How did you come up with the description of ‘aching desire?’”

“You said it was accurate.”

“It is. Just wondering how you came up with it?”

“It just…came to me.”

Snickers and murmurs float through the room.

“Does anyone have anything they’d like to tell me?” I ask.

Radio silence.

I walk to the first row of desks and face David. I pick up his iPad. “You don’t mind, do you?”

I begin reading, and I keep my jaw from dropping.

This is my work. My fucking novel. My novel that hasn’t been released yet.

I throw his iPad back down in front of him. “Where did you get this?”

“It’s… It’s circulating online.”

“For God’s sake.” I breathe in. “Class is over until next time, when I expect every one of you to be prepared to discuss Catherine Earnshaw. Get out of here.”

The students gather their belongings and shuffle out the door. Dina stays behind.

“Dr. Stone?”

“Yes?”

“I just want you to know, I think it’s brilliant.”

“That’s kind of you, Dina, but you also may want to know that you have a pirated copy. The book doesn’t release for several more months. May I ask where you got it?”

“Online. And I’m sorry.”

“Ebook piracy is a serious offense. It’s copyright infringement and can result in a fine up to thirty thousand dollars.”

Her blue eyes go wide. “I didn’t put it out there.”

“But you have it in your possession.”

“I’ll delete it. I’m so sorry.”

“Dina, I’m not going to make a case out of this, but I need you to tell me where you got it.”

“I…don’t know. It was uploaded to one of the Mellville message boards over the weekend. Everyone was talking about it, so… You know.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know, Dina. This is a huge invasion of my privacy, not to mention a violation of the law. I have a contract with my publisher to sell the work. Someone is giving it away for free and has attached my real name to it. Tell me. What would you do in my shoes?”

“I… I don’t know, Dr. Stone. Please. I’ll delete it. I won’t say anything more about it.”

“You do that. Have a good day, Dina.”

She slinks out of the room.

I sigh.

Time to talk to Linda before this gets out of hand. I gather my stuff, head to my office, dump it all on my desk, and then walk down the hallway to Linda’s office. Our secretary, Lonnie, blushes as I pass.

Oh God…

I knock harshly. “Linda, it’s Hunter.”

“Come in,” she says.

I open the door and take a seat across from her desk. “Apparently I’m a household name around the student body now. I just wanted to give you a heads-up, since you demanded one.”

“Hunter…”

“Let me say my piece, please. My students somehow have a pirated copy of my novel, which hasn’t yet been released. Someone released my pen name and my work on social media, and they’re not only violating my privacy, they’re breaking copyright law. This is serious, Linda.”

“Yes, Hunter, but—”

“I won’t have it,” I say, interrupting her. “My private life is private, damn it.”

“Hunter, please. This is the least of our worries.”

I lift my brow. “Oh?”

She sighs. “The dean of students contacted me a half hour ago. There have been some allegations.”

“What kind of allegations?”

“That you’re a member of some secret club and that’s how you did all your research.”

“Christ… That’s no one’s business.”

“It is,” she says, “if you’re engaging in illegal activities.”

I stand up, knocking over the chair. “What?” I say through clenched teeth.

“It’s all over social, I’m afraid.”

“Linda, you and I both know that rumor and innuendo travel faster than the speed of light. I assure you that I don’t engage in anything illegal. Ever.” I look down at my white knuckles. “What I do in my private life is my own fucking business.”

“I know that, Hunter. But this may get ugly.”

“Fuck,” I say. “Why does everything have to be a fight?”

“It doesn’t have to be. You could…come clean. If you are a member of a club, Hunter—and I’m not saying you are—you could tell the dean and make sure she knows nothing illegal is going on there.”

Right. Not happening, and not just because of the NDA I signed. Because it’s none of the dean’s fucking business.

“Bullshit. It’s none of her business what I do in my free time. What I do in my private life. Who the hell started these rumors?”

“I’d tell you if I knew.” She sighs.

“I don’t care. I’m fighting.” I rise and look out the window at the red brick buildings where I once roamed the halls as a student, at the cobblestone pathways and the granite statue of Clark Mellville, the college’s founder. “Mellville is my alma mater. I got all three of my degrees here, and I’ve been a professor here for the last five years. I’m not going quietly. This place means a lot to me, and I should mean a lot to it as well.”

“You do mean a lot to me and to the rest of our department.”

“If you say so.” I turn. “I need a fucking drink.”

…

I text Logan.

Hunter: You up for a drink at Smitty’s?

Logan: Sure. Be there in fifteen.

I’m already halfway through my martini when Logan saunters into the bar, his muscular build, shaved head, and blue eyes drawing attention as they always do.

“Bourbon,” he tells the barkeep as he sits down next to me and eyes my drink. “I see you started without me.”

“Remember when we sat here last year, drinking and commiserating about your situation?” I ask.

“How could I forget?”

“You didn’t deserve any of it, Logan.” I take a drink, letting the alcohol float over my tongue. “And now…” I shake my head.

“What’s going on, Hunt?”

I pour out the story, finishing my martini in the process.

“Man.” Logan takes a sip of his bourbon. “Social media sucks, for sure. How could they have gotten your manuscript?”

“Hell if I know.” I signal the bartender for another. “But they’re not going to get away with it.”

“I don’t know.” Logan shakes his head. “You saw what I went through. It may not be worth the headache.”

“How is it so easy for you to walk away, Logan?” I ask. “Mellville has been a huge part of our lives.”

“For sure,” Logan agrees. “But it now has some shitty memories for me, too. Sometimes it’s not a bad thing to move on to greener pastures. Sometimes we don’t know how much further we have to go—or grow—until we change scenery.”

I’ve known Logan since freshman year of college. We roomed together for two years, until Allison and I moved off campus into an apartment together. Logan and I shared drinks together at Smitty’s every week while we were in school. Now our visits to the bar are few and far between, but we’re always here for each other. Still, Logan doesn’t know about my private life. He doesn’t know about the club.

“Here’s the thing,” I say. “I am a member of a club, Logan.”

Logan’s eyes widen, but then he tries to look nonchalant. “Oh?”

“Yeah. And that’s all I can say about it, other than that nothing illegal goes on there.”

“I know that, Hunt. For God’s sake.”

“The point is… How did someone find out? I mean, the rumor had to start somewhere.”

“You may never know,” Logan says. “But everything you say to me is safe.”

“I know.”

The bartender hands me my second martini. “Ready for another?” he asks Logan.

“I’m good.” He turns to me. “The rumors will eventually die down, but even if they don’t, this doesn’t have to be a fight, Hunt. It can be a message. A message that it’s time to move forward. Away from Mellville.”

I inhale and let it out slowly. “I’ll think about it. I do see your point. But fighting for what’s right is in my nature.”

“Mine too,” he says, “but sometimes, when you look through the trees, you can find a path you didn’t see before. You can find a way to leave something behind and have even more.”