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“Those women were born for business. I brought them on at Catalyst as soon as they earned their certificates. Put them in charge of two of my newer ventures at the time, and the profits nearly doubled after just one year of them being in charge.”
Wesley lets out a low whistle.
“Maybe this new group won't be as bad. I might even be able to help the Donnelly kid find a compromise his parents will agree to if I end up having him again this session. So, is anyone ready to brave the rosters with me?” he asks.
“Might as well get it over with sooner rather than later.” I shrug. “You going to put all your bratty students on the same day again for this session, Wesley?”
“Never again,” he says with a shudder.
New rosters are always easier with snacks, so I load up my plate with a second round of sides, and yes, I did make a point of grabbing some of the pasta salad that Phillip brought.
Matthews, Jeremy
Munch, Gisela
Nelson, Ashley
Newton, Curtis
Okorie, Imani
Perez, Miguel
Parker, George
Ross, Avery
Rutherford, Edward
As I’m scrolling through, I notice it’s mostly new names. There are a few that have come back this session, but I expected that—strongly encouraged it, actually. Those five students stood out as skilled and highly motivated individuals during the last session. I just know that if I push them a little further, they could become exceptional.
Wesley’s triumphant shout startles me so much, I nearly fall out of my chair.
“What the hell, Wesley? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
“Sorry,” he says, grinning sheepishly. “I’m just glad Reggie boy decided to pull his head out of his ass and listen to me for once.”
“What were you fighting about this time?”
How does he keep getting invited back to be a mentor every year? I swear he gets off on the fighting sometimes.
“Oh, don’t give me that look, Jamie. You would have given him a dressing down same as I did if you were there. He was blathering on about how her being a single mother would set a bad example for our ‘elite students’, so he wasn’t sure she merited a full scholarship,” he sneers.
He’s right. I absolutely would have torn Reginald a new one had I been there.
“But the senator’s kid with all the child support lawsuits got in last semester,” I protest. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
“The circumstances are different,” he says, adopting a pompous tone. “Besides, he's one of our students who can actually afford to attend. There’s less of a moral dilemma in that case.”
If I had my eyes closed, I would have one hundred percent believed Reginald had crashed our barbeque. Wesley even manages to replicate the expressions he makes too.
It’s downright uncanny.
Honestly, after hearing everything that went down and knowing how he grew up, I’m even more surprised that Wesley’s ‘chat’ didn’t end in a physical altercation. Single moms have always been his Achilles’ heel.
“So, who is this bad seed you’re mentoring that might corrupt our poor, defenseless students?” Phillip asks with a smirk.
“Only the most talented amateur baker I’ve seen in years.”
