Bad Education

Chapter III

He f****d up.

Alec scowled out the window of the taxi as it edged back to Whitehall. He was the master of darkness, the ultimate manipulating puppeteer and who could find the perfect way to pull on anyone’s string and he f*****g f****d up.

Something about that obstinate midget of a teacher made him drop the ball, and it frustrated the hell out of him. He should have kept his cool. He should have tried to charm her to his side but instead he accelerated straight into the fear tactic, a tactic that, admittedly, always seemed to work with him – but the f*****g short skirt didn’t even flinch at it.

Fuck, she even seemed to be encouraged by it.

She could have been calmed down and shut up but he f****d up.

Then again, at least a bit of old dirt flinging would cover up his mistake and set things right. He shouldn’t give it another thought. It would be handled.

Alec tapped impatiently on the taxi door.

That little smirk she gave him, did she even have any clue about what she was getting into? Was she just like all the other clueless f***s he dedicated his life to cleaning up after? He could have sworn she seemed to have a good head on her shoulders but the way she so gleefully defied him made him question if he was just blinded by her confounding passion.

He rubbed his eyes with his hand in frustration. She was going to be old news by the end of the day - it was time to get back to all the other f**k ups on his plate.

Alec whipped out his phone from his jacket pocket to call Craig, but then hovered his thumb over the keys in thought. Suddenly, before he could think of a reason to stop himself, he pulled out his little black notebook and flicked to the latest page where his assistant Emily had written down a phone number. Punching down on the pad, he held the mobile up to his ear with unexpected nervousness.

The line clicked through.

“f**k up number one: you turned your phone on.” He got in first.

“How did you get my number?” Claire’s cold voice cut through the line.

“I mean, that’s not counting your first f**k up – that was going all Kanye f*****g West on the press - but I thought it would be nicer to just count that as f**k Up Ground Zero and just build up from there.” He continued unabated.

“Much nicer. How did you get my number?” She curtly repeated.

“I’m the f*****g Wizard of Oz. I’m the guy behind the f*****g curtains of this government, I only have to click my Italian leather heels three times and I can get any phone number I want.”

“Whatever.” She huffed impatiently. “I’m hanging up now.”

“You don’t want to know why I rang?”

“I presume it was to check on how I was faring with my drowning.”

“You presume right.”

“You’re a sadist.”

“And you’re a masochist.” He countered. “Seems we make quite the pair.”

“Well I guess I am a bit of a masochist if I’m sitting here listening to the man who just fifteen minutes ago was threatening to destroy my very existence.”

“Not my f*****g fault your chose to go after my party in f*****g public, is it?”

“Loyal, much?”

“More loyal than you, if you’re going to support the f*****g Eton-inbred establishment of f*****g castrated fops.” Alec spat.

“I’m loyal to my students.” Claire fought back. “And I will do anything I can to get them a better education. So if you want to go ahead and change your stupid policy then congratulations: I’ll support your party all the way!”

“How f*****g gracious of you.” He snarled.

“The Mail seemed to think so.” Her voice teased. “In fact they’ve just offered me a full page spread.”

“More like full page picture of you bending over the desk with your f*****g t**s hanging out.” Alec grumbled. “Mail’s the f*****g opposite of what you want. You want to appear like the dignified teacher who actually knows what the f**k she’s talking about. You want the Times or BBC. But not the f*****g kale-munching fag hags from the Guardian: that’d just be preaching to the limp wristed choir.”

There was a small silence over the line.

“Are you trying to help me?” She questioned, confused.

Alec’s mind went blank. “I’m f*****g just trying to make my destruction of you a bit more entertaining on my end. Give me more of a fun fight if you’re not already flailing on the ground to begin with, like some f*****g quadriplegic lamb with a big old f*****g target painted on its back.”

“How very sweet of you.” She deadpanned.

“Sweeter than f*****g tooth decay.” He relaxed into the seat of the taxi as the corner of his lips threatened to turn upwards. “So what kind of dirt do I have to look forward to digging up then? Involved in any Young Fascist rallies? Experimented with psychotics at a f*****g Eyes Wide Shut orgy?”

“I’m sorry to say you’ll find my past rather boring, actually.”

“Well you know how to lower a man’s flag quick.” He sighed. “No bother, the tabloids will eat up my little crap pancakes of insinuation for breakfast. Who needs facts when the entire industry’s trying to scratch itself out of a f*****g grave? Any particular smear you’d like to veto?”

“Not being a Nazi is always a good thing.”

“s*x fiend it is then. Best warn your dad not to read tomorrow’s paper.”

“Thanks for the tip.” She replied dryly.

“You know all this could be avoided if you just put out a simple f*****g two sentence statement retracting your rant.” He tried again.

“It also could be avoided if you change your education policy to actually help the students learn rather than meet some arbitrary number set by an out-of-touch bureaucracy.” Her voice became stern again.

“That’s one f*****g press-ready sound bite you’ve practiced there.”

“It is, isn’t it?” He could hear her smirk over the line. “I think I might pass it on to whatever party is worthy – I’m sure the opposition will be giving me a phone call in a minute, I’ll get back to you later and tell you what they think of it.”

Alec couldn’t stop the twisted smile that rose on his lips. “You know, I’m almost f*****g tempted to just let you go like some f*****g over-inflated balloon, just to watch you deflate with f*****g violent farts of utter cluelessness.”

“Not going to lie, having your machinations out of the picture would mean less disruptions from my class.”

“It’s always about the f*****g students with you, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it’s almost like I’m an actual teacher.”

Alec beamed in the corner of the taxi when a beep interrupted over the phone line, snapping him back to reality. Call waiting. He had to take it. But he didn't want to. Why the f**k didn’t he want to? Just finish the f*****g conversation and move on. He made his point and she wasn’t budging. He had to hang up.

Hang up.

“Well like I said: If you don’t retract, then I f*****g react.” His voice lowered. “A f*****g s**t storm is heading your way from the Downing St direction, the likes of which you cannot even f*****g fathom. Bring an umbrella.”

We quickly switched to the next call before he could think.

“Alec!” The Prime Minister’s voice appeared from the other line.

“Mr Ben Sharpe!” Alec tried to regain his head. “How was your Cabinet meeting?”

“f*****g rotten.” He huffed. “Even with the boost in the polls.”

“Well sir, all we need to do is f*****g drag them screaming over the election line, then we can have a good old fashioned cull once we’re back in office.”

“You’re right.” He grumbled. “I know you’re right. But I also know The Faction is still here, just waiting to spring up at the slightest weakness. I mean that education girl – the teacher from yesterday – I can just tell they want to get her on their side.”

“Not if I have any f*****g say in it.” Alec steeled his voice.

“Good. Good. So you’re going to handle her then?”

Alec’s mouth twitched. “She’ll be a rotting political corpse in no time.”

“No time is not quick enough. We’ve got enough troubles as it is without her stirring up the pot. One more sign of weakness and this party will crumble.”

“Consider her gone already, sir.”

“Where would I be without you Alec?”

“In a f*****g hell-scape of idiots and hypocrites too frightening to imagine.”

“No doubt you’re right. See you tomorrow.” He promptly hung up, leaving Alec alone in the taxi, still crawling through traffic.

It was sorted. He was going to destroy Claire Archer.

He fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat.

Claire Archer.

The frustrating fucker.

Should he have mentioned to the PM his conversations with her? No. Why should he? Not like he needs to give a detailed account of all his f*****g minutes of his day – he just needed to do his job. He needed to fix problems. Problems like Claire.

He rubbed his chin with his hand. What the f**k was that conversation anyway? He could have sworn for a moment there, just talking to her, he almost felt…comfortable. But that couldn’t be f*****g right. It must have just been that all the f***s he had given over her retracting her statement had vanished faster than f*****g Jude Law’s hairline.

The taxi finally pulled up outside the gate of Downing St, and Alec got out and walked through security to number 10 with thoughts still swirling in his head like some maddening mess.

He even f*****g smiled when he was talking to her. But it must have been his smile over the potential of fresh f*****g meat.

It must have been.

Before he realised he was walking in auto-drive he was already halfway down the hallway to his office when Craig popped out from on of the doors, waving a large envelope.

“Fresh, steaming s**t: ready to fling!” He handed the envelope to Alec with a grin.

“Craig my dear, if you weren’t f*****g married I’d f*****g snog you right now.” He said drolly as he opened the envelope to peer inside.

“Who knows, the missus could find it a turn on.” Craig mused as he followed Alec into his office and watched as he pulled out a photo of Claire from the package. “Teacher Tantrum isn’t all f*****g justice and purity rings…” He began as Alec sat down at his desk, still studying the photo. “She started out as an Au-Pair and almost f*****g burned the one of her family’s kitchens down like a regular f*****g Mary Pyro. Also there’s old rumours hidden in the backlogs of f*******: that she had a thing with her history professor in university, so she definitely does know from experience the benefits of getting a f*****g hands on education.”

Alec slipped her photo back in the envelope. “Put that in the f*****g headline.”

Jaime waited expectedly. “Want me to ship it out on the leaky boat?”

“I’m giving DoSac a routine colonoscopy this afternoon, I’ll hand it over to them to send out. Maybe it will finally teach those f*****g hacks what their mothers obviously forgot to – that they’ve got to wipe their own f*****g arses after they decide to take a massive dump on their own party. f****d if I’m going to be their f*****g bidet anymore.”

“I’ll stock up on f*****g air fresheners for you then.” Craig quipped as he headed out the door but Alec just replied with a humph.

He flicked the envelope in his hand, considering it for a moment, then put it down on the pile of folders and notebooks that were his constant companion. He stared at the envelope again, considering its contents, when his thoughts wandered back to those stupid f*****g giant eyes, glaring through him in defiance.

Fuck it.

He grabbed the envelope from the top of the pile then unlocked his personal draw in his desk, shoved it underneath the mess of notes hidden inside, then closed it back up and locked it with a soft click.

He was totally f****d up now.