Underwood, Scotch, and Wry

by Brian D. Meeks

  He called Lawrence and asked, “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing. Just watching TV. What’s up?”

  “I’m here with Wen. We were thinking of putting out a call for reasonableness.”

  “What in the world do either of you know about reasonableness?”

  “That’s why I’m calling,” he said laughing.

  “Okay, I’ll be right over.”

  Susan and A. were Kurt’s next calls.

  They each started by writing blog posts defending their favorite professor. A few students saw the posts and got on board with their own opinions. By midnight, the comments were adding up. Everyone seemed encouraged.

  They worked Twitter mainly but also StumbleUpon, Digg, and Delicious. Wen even mentioned their “movement” on Foursquare when she went out for coffee at 6 am.

  By mid-morning, seven students had joined them and were asking their Facebook friends to “like” the “Save Dr. Byrne” page. The hashtag #Unfair hadn’t gathered much traction.

  The trolls started to attack with venom typically reserved for politics around noon. The leader of the feminists who were calling for Dr. Byrne’s head wrote a rebuttal piece. Her following dwarfed the combined following of the TAs’ blogs.

  Despite their best efforts, there were far more people who wanted to see justice handed out swiftly and, in many cases, with clubs. Wen kept posting responses that it was a picture of two consenting adults. She was viciously attacked and called a whore.

  The Huffington Post jumped on the bandwagon around 8 pm and reposted the piece by the opposition. The Post suggested the hashtag #Firehim. It began trending within ten minutes.

  Tired and hungry, they nibbled on the pizza in silence.

  Wen began to weep a little. She tried to fight them, but the tears wouldn’t obey.

  As Kurt put his arm around her, he said, “I think Dr. Byrne would quote Burns, ‘The best-laid schemes o’ mice an’ men gang aft agley.’”

  “We’ve made everything worse.”

  “Yes, we have. It sucks.”

  Lawrence said, “I don’t understand how people can ignore the facts and go straight to hate.”

  A. said, “Some people just like tearing others down. It is all they know.”

  Susan said, “That is so cynical...but probably true. The pizza’s good, though.”

  Lawrence asked, “Why didn’t our stuff go viral?”

  Kurt answered, “I think it is because the people RTing are all students and their followers are each other. It was a small audience that got on board, and they don’t have much reach.”

  A. said, “It reminds me of the Duke lacrosse scandal.”

  Wen said, “That went on forever. By the time the woman admitted to lying, it was too late. They were screwed.”

  Lawrence said, “I should have never thrown that party.”

  Wen replied, “It was a great party. You’re not to blame. It was that stupid article in the paper.”

  Lawrence gave a shrug and grabbed another piece of pizza.

  ***

  Arthur parked in the alley just after 3 am. The moment he walked through the back door, Maltese greeted him with a somewhat angry meow.

  “I know. I’m sorry I left. Did Eric take good care of you?”

  The silent treatment that followed was brutal.

  Arthur got the jar of cat treats. Maltese decided it was really no big deal that he had left. All was forgiven.

  It seemed like a bad idea to turn on the lights. With only a tiny move of the blinds, he could see people were still living on the street outside. Could it really be such a big story? At that moment, it didn’t matter. He needed sleep.

  Maltese kept an eye on Arthur. As soon as he was in bed, the cat hopped up and settled onto the pillow.

  Shortly after the sun came up, Maltese remembered that Arthur hadn’t been around to pay attention to him and decided it might be best to get an early start on making it up to him. It only took two short meows and a really long one to do the trick.

  Arthur pulled the cat up on his chest and stroked his fur. The purring was therapeutic, but he knew that it wasn’t going to be a great day. He had only one thing on his agenda besides avoiding the pack of jackals outside and that was calling his lawyer.

  Maltese seemed satisfied and drifted back to sleep. Arthur was close behind.

  The morning consisted of incoming calls from Wen, Lawrence, and Kurt who were all concerned about the state of affairs. Additionally, Arthur’s attorney put him on the clock and began his first billable hour. His lawyer had seen The Huffington Post piece and thought he might hear from Arthur.

  Arthur skipped breakfast as he didn’t have much of an appetite. Maltese ate twice.

  The assembled media jackals figured out he was home. Periodically, Arthur liked to move the curtain to get them all worked up. When the doorbell rang, he feared that the fourth estate was storming the castle.

  It turned out to be a middle-aged man in khakis and a buttoned down shirt. He didn’t appear to have a microphone or camera, so Arthur opened the door but left the chain on. “May I help you?”

  “Dr. Arthur Byrne?”

  “Yes.”

  He shoved a large envelope through the opening and said, “Consider yourself served.”

  “It would be insincere of me to say thanks.”

  “I understand. Don’t sweat it. At least you didn’t spit on me.”

  Arthur closed the door.

  He sat in his favorite leather chair. Arthur closed his eyes and did a breathing exercise he learned in college. It didn’t help.

  A second call to his attorney was unavoidable.

  While they were talking, Eric let himself in and grabbed a seat on the couch. Maltese greeted his substitute human by crawling onto his lap. The ear scratching led to some appreciative purring.

  “What was that about?” Eric asked.

  “I’m making a down payment on my shyster’s place in Boca Raton. He’s got me on the clock. Oh, and I’m being sued for sexual harassment by Crystal.”

  “She was the one from a couple of years ago?”

  “Yes, with the big hands.”

  “Didn’t she once show up at three in the morning wearing a French maid’s outfit?”

  “I had forgotten about that,” Arthur said. He got up and grabbed a notebook. “I should probably mention that the next time I’m spending $500.00 an hour on a phone call.”

  “A new phone sex line?”

  “I meant my...”

  “I know. I was kidding. What’s the next move?”

  “I’ve been told to stay in my bunker and not to speak to the press.”

  “You need anything?”

  “I could use some food. I’m not sure Maltese is willing to share.”

  “Make me a list and I’ll pick it up.”

  “You’re a good man, Charlie Brown.”

  “I just can’t understand how this has become such a big deal. When did having young women fancy you become a crime?”

  “Fancy? Really?”

  “I’ve been watching a lot of BBC America lately.”

  “That explains it then. Now I’m craving fish and chips.”

  “How was New York?”

  “Laurie and I had lunch. You know what?”

  “No, what?”

  “I’ve been lamenting a romantic notion that never was.”

  “That’s good.”

  “It is?”

  “No, I mean, you should write that down. It’s a nice bit of writing, or it would be if you put it to paper.”

  Arthur flipped the page on his notebook and asked, “What did I say? I wasn’t listening.”

  “‘I’ve been lamenting a romantic notion that never was.’”

  “I do like that.”

  “It’s not the sort of thing that wins a Pulitzer, but it sounds like your old voice. How’s the writing going?”

  “I’ve put quite a bit together in my head. The last few hours on the way home I lost mys
elf in the story. I guess I’ll have plenty of time to write it down while I’m in the bunker.”

  Eric eased Maltese off his lap, took the grocery list from Arthur, and headed out.

  Arthur didn’t see any reason not to do some writing, so that’s exactly what he did.

  CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

  Arthur opened the door to find Kurt standing on the steps with a couple of Subway sandwiches. “Come on in. How are things out there in the wild?”

  “It looks like your media contingent has thinned some.”

  “Yes, the last three days have seen them scurry away. I’m hopeful they’ve grown bored and that the rest will give up soon.”

  “Are you getting cabin fever?”

  “I’m the Danny Terrio of cabin fever.”

  “I suspect that is one of your old people references.”

  “It was a show called Dance Fever. He was on it and also in the movie Saturday Night Fever.”

  “A double fever reference. Nice, but I don’t care.”

  “What brings you around?”

  “I’ve had an idea.”

  Arthur got them a couple of beers, and they chatted as they ate. Arthur had the BMT while Kurt went with the meatball sandwich. Kurt made the “balls” joke before Arthur could get it out. Arthur laughed and raised his beer to toast the quick wit.

  After they ate, Kurt got the computer set to go.

  “Okay, explain it to me again. Why are we using Skype?” Arthur asked.

  “It’s the same as a phone. Don’t worry about it. You just need to put on the headphones and talk.” Kurt said.

  “You know the number?”

  “Yes, I have it from the history on your phone.”

  “You’re very clever.”

  “This may not work, you know.”

  “It’s worth a shot.”

  “Okay, I’m dialing now.”

  The phone rang. A cautious voice answered, “Hello, this is Crystal.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Arthur, is that you?”

  “Of course it’s me. Or are you suing someone else, too?”

  “My lawyer said I’m not supposed to talk to you. He warned me you’d probably call.”

  “It seems he was right. What did I do to piss you off so much?”

  “I shouldn’t talk about the case.”

  “There isn’t any case. You know full well I didn’t sexually harass you.”

  “That reporter got me thinking. I need to go.”

  “Come on, don’t hang up. I just need to understand what’s going on. I’m not asking you to drop the suit or anything. What did I do? You know what we had wasn’t just some fling.”

  Kurt smiled and made circular motions with his hands.

  Arthur nodded and rolled his eyes as he continued, “I thought we had something special, but you graduated and moved on. Heck, you’re the one that got married. What’s going on? You owe me that.”

  “I suppose I do. Okay, I’ll tell you, but it has to be off the record.”

  “I’m not a reporter. I’m the defendant.”

  “I totally feel terrible about that, but you have to understand my husband was really pissed off about the photo. He didn’t know about us.”

  “You weren’t even doing anything in the picture. Why did you tell him about us? You could have made something up. Lying is the cornerstone to any marriage.”

  There was a long silence.

  Crystal said, “I should have lied. I didn’t think of it. You know I’m not quick like that.”

  Arthur held up his hands and affixed an internationally recognized expression of incredulous.

  Kurt was trying not to laugh.

  She continued, “We had a fight. Then I remembered what that reporter said.”

  “What reporter?”

  “Rebecca. She kept pushing and asking if I had been taken advantage of in college.”

  “Yes, but if anything, you took advantage of me. I seem to remember you having a collection of handcuffs that would make a secret service agent blush.”

  Crystal giggled and said, “Yes, I do like my toys.”

  “Then why bring the suit?”

  “I had to tell my husband something.”

  “In some strange way I guess I see your logic. So you love him, do you?”

  The next pause was uncomfortable.

  “Yes, I guess.”

  “Well, you gotta do what you gotta do. I get that. May I ask you one more thing...off the record?”

  “Sure.”

  “You don’t really feel like I took advantage of you, do you?”

  “No, of course not. I’m really sorry.”

  “Well, you were special, and I mean that in ways you can’t begin to understand. Talk to you later.”

  “Don’t tell anyone about our talk, okay?”

  “Dear sweet Crystal, you have a great day,” Arthur said.

  Kurt hung up the Skype call. “Wow, she is spectacularly stupid.”

  “Did you get that?”

  “Oh, yes, it was all recorded,” he said and started laughing.

  “What?”

  “Off the record?”

  “Yeah. I know.”

  “Should I leak this to the world wide web with a snarky blog post?”

  “Not yet, but make a copy and keep it as a back-up.”

  “You think someone might try to steal it?”

  “I’m more worried about me accidentally deleting the file. I’m still frightened by that cyborg thing you and Wen have made me adopt.”

  Kurt shook his head. “We should send this .wav file to your lawyer.”

  “Here, let me open my email. I’ve got his address in there.”

  After Kurt hit “send,” Arthur handed him another beer. “It was a good idea. I owe you one.”

  “Cheers.”

  “You mind doing one more thing for me?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Find out what you can about this Rebecca person.”

  “Will do.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY SIX

  “President Grosvenor, your eleven o’clock has arrived.”

  “Show her in.”

  Rebecca, wearing a pinstripe suit and serious glasses, introduced herself and took a seat.

  “What may I do for you, Rebecca?”

  “You have a professor in the liberal arts department, Dr. Arthur Byrne, who is currently under suspension and awaiting review. Is that correct?”

  “The review is being handled by the dean of the department, Mary Shingle, but, yes, I’m aware of the situation.”

  “What was the reason for his suspension?”

  “We have very high standards with regards to the conduct of all our employees, especially members of the faculty.”

  “What, specifically, was he suspended for?”

  “You will need to speak with Ms. Shingle for specifics. I don’t speak on her behalf. She has expressed concerns about his behavior after a rather salacious photo of Dr. Byrne was run in the student paper.”

  “You refer to the photo of him in the bar with a partially naked woman on his lap.”

  “Again, I’d refer you to Ms. Shingle for more details.”

  “Are you aware that papers were filed and that Dr. Byrne was served a summons to appear for a deposition in a lawsuit alleging that he sexually harassed a former teaching assistant?”

  President Grosvenor paused to consider his words carefully. “It is not the policy of this university to comment on such matters.”

  “I’m not asking for a comment, only an acknowledgement as to whether you were informed of his situation.”

  “I’m not at liberty to discuss any ongoing litigation that may involve members of faculty.”

  “Does Dr. Byrne have a history of taking advantage of his subordinates?”

  “In the ten years he has been teaching here, there has not been a single complaint, of that, I am sure. Who is this former employee who has brought the suit?”

 
; “Since you don’t know her name, I’ll assume you were unaware of the suit before now.”

  It was a blunder, and he knew it. Grosvenor leaned back and touched his fingertips together. He said nothing further and considered whether he should throw her out of his office.

  Rebecca said, “At Penn State, Jerry Sandusky abused children under the noses and with the knowledge of many high-ranking officials within the football program. Have you been covering up a pattern of serial…” she paused for effect and added “...womanizing, possibly bordering on assault?”

  “Don’t you dare compare Dr. Arthur Byrne with that monster. Sandusky was abusing young people within a sports program. There has never been a single complaint brought by a female member of staff…”

  “Until now, you mean. How many years went by before we found out about Sandusky? Who knows how many women have yet to come forward. Rape victims are often afraid to admit what happened to them.”

  “This interview is done,” he said and stood. He glared at the young reporter as he made a gesture to the door.

  She closed her notebook with a look of smug satisfaction and said, “I’m sure I can find more victims. People like him never prey on just one woman.” She dropped her card on his desk and added, “If you wish to go on the record with anything more, before, you know, to tell your side of the story…and possibly save your job…”

  “Please leave before I call security.”

  When she was gone, he said to his secretary, “Please find Dean Shingle and tell her I need to see her immediately if not sooner.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’ll be fine. Please find Mary for me.”

  Grosvenor closed the door and poured himself a drink. He drank it and added two more fingers worth before he sat back down at his desk. He dialed Arthur’s number.

  “Hello.”

  “Arthur, Grosvenor here. How is it going?”

  “I’m on suspension. How do you think?”

  “Yes, things have gotten a bit out of control.”

  “Was this your doing or did Mary cook up this idea on her own?”

  “I’m not sure I like your tone. Are you implying that we had anything to do with this mess? It was your face splashed all over the paper. Why do you insist on cavorting with women half your age?”