Teaching Mr. Graham

Chapter Six

    "But why Chicago?" OB had asked while Aubrey walked around his room packing. "You don't have ties to Chicago. I mean, not really. Memphis, I could understand. Houston, I could understand. Hell, even Philly, I could understand, because that's where you hatched this crazy plan. But Chicago? Do you even know anyone there?"

    "I know people pretty much everywhere," Aubrey told him while packing his suitcase. "But am I close with anyone in the Chicago area? No, not really. And that's kind of the point."

    OB scratched his bald head. "Uh, come again?"

    Aubrey turned and looked at him. Tall, pale, with an epic red beard, and dressed in a t-shirt with a Raptors basketball jersey over it, that was his homey OB. "I need to be low key for awhile. Off the radar. I don't want a bunch of people around me that I'm familiar with. I want to take a step back, from all of that."

    OB clapped a hand over his chest. "Shit, that hurts."

    Aubrey laughed and pointed a rolled up pair of boxer briefs at him. "You know I don't mean it like that. And I'll still get to see you all during breaks. That's one of the big appeals of teaching. Summer breaks, winter breaks, Thanksgiving breaks, spring breaks...there are so many breaks, I should be able to travel with P. Reign, PartyNextDoor, Bryson Tiller, Amir Obe, and the rest of the guys just about as often as they need me."

    "Don't most teachers use breaks to, like...grade papers and shit?" OB asked, his brows furrowed. "You don't think you're biting off more than you can chew?"

    Aubrey shook his head. "Nah, I can handle it," he said, tossing his boxer briefs into his suitcase.

    "And how long do you think you'll be able to keep it low key?" OB asked, plopping down on the bed and bouncing on the mattress. "You're fucking Drake, man. If anyone's going to know that, it's college students. When they find out you're their teacher? They're going to go ape shit. Fuck taking notes, they're going to do nothing but record you during class."

    "Then their phones will be confiscated," Aubrey said with a stony expression on his face. "I'm not going to tolerate that shit."

    "So you're going to treat them like the bitches we invite here?" OB asked, cackling and spreading his arms out to indicate the palatial Calabasas, California, residence that Drake and most of his crew called home. "You're going to take their phones and not return them until they leave class? That will sit well with today's generation."

    "I take this shit seriously," Aubrey said. "I had to go through the certification bullshit, just to be able to teach. And Northwestern University is a serious college. They're like...one of the colleges at the top of the food chain."

    "It's not like they're Yale or Harvard," OB muttered.

    Aubrey laughed and threw a pillow at his head. "Shut the fuck up, man."

    OB shrugged. "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to discourage you from this...higher calling situation. And don't kill me for bringing this up...but how does someone who didn't even go to college get to teach college? I mean...you barely graduated high school, remember?"

    "My awards, accomplishments, and accolades got me a pass," Aubrey said, zipping up the suitcase and turning around to survey his rustic bedroom. "But trust me, the irony of that wasn't lost on me."

    "Well, I guess the upside is that you'll be surrounded by hot college chicks," OB said, falling back on the bed and staring up at the ceiling. "When you're ready to jump back into the business, and you're ready to start filming music videos, you'll have a bevvy of college hotties to choose from. Hey...this could actually work out."

    Aubrey frowned at him. "I'm worried about you, man."

    OB looked at him incredulously. "Tell me you've considered that."

    Aubrey shook his head. "No, man...no."

    "Because..."

    "Because it would be unprofessional," Aubrey responded. "These girls are just trying to get their education, man. I'm not going to prey on them like that. That's not even right. Not to mention, you know I prefer older women. For that reason alone, I'm the perfect man to teach college."

    "Older women go to college, too," OB said, grabbing one of Aubrey's pillows and tossing it up into the air as if it were a basketball. "Say this hot, forty-year-old chick is enrolled in your class. And I mean...she's hot, all right? Even by your astronomical standards. Then what?"

    "If she's a student, it's hands off," Aubrey said, catching the pillow before OB could. "No matter how old she is, how good she looks, or how big her ass is...I'm not going to be that teacher you hear about on the news, man."

    OB sat up and shrugged. "It sounds like you're becoming a monk or some shit. I thought you wanted to find a good girl and settle down."

    Aubrey laughed. "I do...the good girl I find just won't be one of my students. I'll be in Chicago. It's a big city. And I'll still be traveling with the boys. If she's out there, I'll find her. But...I want to find her the right way, instead of taking advantage of a student. The setup you're talking about sounds like the intro to a bad porno."

    OB held a finger up. "Or the intro to a great porno, depending on your tastes."

    Aubrey threw the pillow at him again. "Will you get out of here?" he demanded, pointing towards the door. "You're distracting me."

    OB stood up. "Whatever, man. Mark my words: you're going to meet a hot college girl, and she's going to make you step out of that Mr. Proper DoRight mode you've got going on right now."

    Aubrey shoved OB. "Get the hell out of here, talking crazy."

                                                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~

    Aubrey collapsed onto his living room couch and linked his hands behind his head while focusing on the television screen. So, the question of the day is, do I believe in being jinxed? Because I haven't been able to get that girl from the coffee shop off of my mind since I laid eyes on her...which is no good, because she's pretty much indicated that she's a student, and I'm against preying on students, remember? I prefer dating older women...

    He told himself and yet, slanted, pretty browneyes, a cute little button nose, and full, sensual lips plagued his mind.Remembering her fiery, spitfire comebacks was enough to make him smile. With afrustrated groan, he tilted his head back and closed his eyes. I don't evenknow her name, and that campus is humongous. She probably won't sign up for myclass, and I'll probably never see her again. And knowing that...knowingthat made daydreaming about her seem okay, somehow.