Dirty Sexy Saint

　　Jordan Miller

　　I would say I had a high tolerance for a lot of things, even if most of my friends wouldn't agree with that.

　　I could tolerate the apartment next to mine throwing a party when I was studying for my finals the next day.

　　I could tolerate my friends drinking straight from the OJ carton.

　　Hell, I could even tolerate the racist and sexist comments that I was prone to since I was a black student in engineering. Okay, I could barely tolerate that.

　　What I could not tolerate though, was my professor picking on me in class just because I refused his advances towards me. Well, he picked me to answer the question because I wasn't paying attention, but in my defense, I barely had enough sleep last night because I was working all through it.

　　I didn't have many days where I had high sales, so I took advantage of the days I did. And it always came to bite me in the ass when I'd feel sleepy in class the next day.

　　Professor Mark raised an eyebrow at me; an indication that he was still waiting for my answer. It was a very easy question and it'd definitely look bad if I couldn't answer it, but the problem was that I didn't read. I didn't think I'd studied anything on ENNG1028 this semester.

　　I saw Catherine writing from the corner of my eye and I focused half of my attention on her. "KCL, which is Kirchhoff's Current Law, states that," I read as she wrote. "The total current entering a junction or a node is equal to the charge leaving the node as no charge is lost."

　　Professor Mark pursed his lips and I tried not to laugh at the expression on his face. It was easy to see that he was irritated because I got the answer right.

　　With a sweet smile on my lips, I asked, "Can I sit now, professor?"

　　"Sure, Miss Miller," he grumbled, walking around his desk. "Just make sure to read it from your own notes next time."

　　I glared at him as the class snickered. I didn't blame them. If it were someone else, I'd laugh too.

　　Thankfully, he was off my case for the rest of the class. Engineering was a fun course, but he made it boring even though he was only in his late twenties. Sometimes, I seriously doubted his age because he acted like a bitter old man. The only thing he had going for him was his looks, and I was sure I'd be grooming a crush on him if he wasn't such an asshole.

　　When he dismissed us, I took my sweet time gathering all my things, and by the time I was done, there were only a few people in the class.

　　He saw me approaching his desk and he subtly rolled his eyes. "What do you want, Jordan?" He asked when I was close enough.

　　"Nothing, dear Professor. Just for you to stop picking on me."

　　He sighed exasperatedly, falling back on his chair. "I'm not picking on you, Jordan. You weren't paying attention. I can't have that."

　　"Yes, you are." I gritted out. "Just because I refused to fuck you."

　　My friends always told me my mouth would get me in trouble one day, but I didn't believe them. Professor Mark must've thought the same thing because he looked around the class with wide eyes. Thankfully, it was clear. "Shut up. Besides, I didn't want that. I just wanted to take you out. Wanted, as in past tense, Jordan."

　　I pursed my lips. As I said before, Professor Mark was a handsome man. He was a lot taller than I was, being around 6'0 to 6'2. His brown hair was curled, parted in the middle and he had charming crystal blue eyes. Too bad he wasn't my type, if not, I'd have gone for it. "Whatever. Just stop calling on me."

　　On a normal note, I couldn't speak to my professors that way, but it was Professor Mark. If he told on me, I'd tell on him too, and I took advantage of that.

　　He sighed again. "Have a nice day, Jordan."

　　That was his way of dismissing me. Getting the message, I exited the class to see my friends waiting for me outside. All four of us were studying Mechatronics, so we mostly offered the same courses.

　　"With the way you're always with him, one would think something is going on." Blake snickered, flinging an arm around my shoulders as he pulled me to his side.

　　"There would be something going on," Cathy rolled her eyes, "if she would just woman up and fuck him."

　　"Don't say such crude words, Cat." I watched in amusement as Cathy glared at Spencer. She hated being called Cat. "My poor virgin ears might bleed."

　　Despite how outgoing I was, the three of them were the only friends I had. Spencer and I met in our senior year of high school. He was a transfer student and I was a nice girl who wouldn't let a person like that be friendless. Transitioning was always hard. When the time came for college, both of us applied for the same ones, the rest of our friends scattering across the globe. Spencer was half Korean and had the softest hair to ever exist. Even if his mother wasn't in the picture, he still made sure to learn the language and cursed with it whenever he was angered.

　　Blake was his roommate, who also happened to be studying the same course as us, making us fast friends. He was also part of the hockey team, which automatically made him popular, his blonde hair and green eyes attracting the female population like magnets.

　　Cathy, however, was a girl I met at my first college party. A guy had spiked her drink and she almost drank, but I quickly smacked it out of her hand, its contents decorating the floor. It'd almost led to a fight, but when I told her I saw a guy putting something in her drink, she was nothing but grateful. She had long, waist-length black hair and was of Indian heritage.

　　I didn't know how exactly we became friends, but we did, and now, even if she had other friends, she hung out mostly with us.

　　"What do you think, Jordan?" Blake nudged me, bringing me out of my thoughts.

　　"What do I think about what?" I asked, not realizing we'd reached the parking lot.

　　Spencer rolled his eyes as we all stopped by his motorcycle. "We were thinking of having a movie night instead of attending a party like we usually do. What do you think?"

　　My eyes widened slightly. Why were they putting the pressure of making a decision on me? I couldn't even lie that I had to study since we all offered the same things. I didn't have to think for long before I came up with something though. "I wasn't planning on attending the party anyway," I told them. On seeing that they were ready to cheer though, I added. "But I do have a client that needs his work done by tomorrow morning."

　　"What's the point of writing when you don't let us see?" Cathy asked as she also hopped on Spencer's motorcycle, wrapping her arms around him. They claimed they weren't dating, but I was sure they were going on another date.

　　"It's called Ghostwriting, Cathy."

　　"Then, write your own stuff." She deadpanned.

　　"I only write for the money as a side hustle. It's not a career path."

　　"Whatever."

　　"You guys should have fun though. I'll be there on the next one." I yelled out as Spencer rode past us without even saying bye.

　　"Why lie?" I jumped at the sudden voice behind me, but then I remembered Blake was still present. "You're still going to make another excuse next time. If it's not partying, you aren't in."

　　His tone was accusing and his green eyes were daunting as though he knew I was lying. I was lying about writing, just not about delivering to a client. I just couldn't tell them what my client wanted.

　　"I promise I'll be at the next one," I assured him, even if I wasn't sure I would. Giving him a brief hug, I strode to my car, not looking back to see if he was still standing there before driving off.

　　I stood against the wall, tapping my feet in impatience. I looked at the time on my wristwatch; he was six minutes late. He wasn't supposed to be late at all, not in this line of business. The only reason I was still there was that I'd already delivered to my top customers. I just had a party to attend. Even if no one ordered beforehand, I'd make a few sales.

　　He finally showed up after an additional two minutes of waiting in the dark alley. "What the fuck is your problem?" I asked in anger.

　　"Sorry," he winced. "It was hard to get out without my wife asking questions."

　　Marco was a fairly new customer of mine, but if he kept up this attitude, I'd be forced to cut him off. I couldn't have people wandering about and seeing me as suspicious. It wasn't my fault his fucking wife didn't know he did drugs.

　　Shaking my head in irritation, I gave him the package he'd requested. He stared at the plastic bag in inspection, nodded, and then smiled at me. Then, he dug into his pocket and brought out a thick wad of cash.

　　Counting it, I frowned. I looked up at him suspiciously and counted again just to be sure. "You're twenty dollars short."

　　"I am?" He asked innocently.

　　"Yes." I narrowed my eyes on him.

　　"Oh, I didn't know."

　　This was the part of the job I hated the most. When guys thought they could intimidate me because I was a woman. "Marco," I warned.

　　Marco scoffed, not reading the threat in my tone. "Eighty is all I have. Take it or," he shrugged nonchalantly, "throw it away, I don't care." Yeah, I was definitely cutting him off.

　　He turned around to start leaving, but I couldn't have that. I still had to give a cut to my boss, and he wouldn't tolerate any losses. I dragged him back, simultaneously whipping my gun out. "Look here, Marco," I sneered. It was either I sounded threatening or had my boss cut off my head. And he was just the third in command. "I have a gun and I'm not afraid to use it."

　　Marco laughed. "You silly girl. Stop playing around with that. Give it to me." He reached out for it, but I pulled it behind me. He laughed again. "I'm pretty sure there are no bullets. Do you even know how to use it?"

　　I clicked the safety off, pointing it at his head this time. "Do you still think I can't use it?"

　　He clicked his tongue, still not believing me. "Do your worst."

　　I didn't really like resorting to guns, but I had one just in case. Agitated, I drew it to his leg and pulled the trigger, the silencer silencing the shot, and the force of it still took me by surprise. Marco's hiss could be heard clearly though. "Do you have the rest of the money now?"

　　"You fucking bitch."

　　He went to bend down to tend to his injured leg, but I stopped him by placing the gun under his chin. "The money," I growled out. I'd wasted too much time on him when I could be busy selling the rest of my drugs to my college kids.

　　Frantically, he pulled out another wad of cash, throwing it at me. "All for twenty dollars."

　　I smiled sweetly at him, placing the silver metal back in my jacket pocket. Counting that bundle, I figured it was another eight dollars. I wasn't going to give him any change, the extra sixty dollars was for compensation. "Nice doing business with you."

　　"Just get the fuck out." He hissed out.

　　"Gladly." Just because I was annoyed, I connected my knee with his groin, hearing him cuss out again. "Cagna." I scoffed as I stepped around his hunched form, exiting the alley. 'Bitch'.

　　I still had plans on going to the party I told my friends I wouldn't attend when I got a text message from my Capo, Carlo, the guy who hired me, that had my heart racing.

　　Capo: The boss has requested for all his dealers. Come to the main house.

　　Alessandro Maurizio was back in Chicago?