“I know you all took part in the charity event, or whatever it was…”
“That’s exactly what it was—a charity event,” Elijah hisses.
“Yes, yes, it doesn’t matter,” the Dean says dismissively, “you’re not students here. On the other hand, Miss Carson…”
The Dean brings his speech to a screeching halt, his eyes searching around anxiously. He knows he needs to be very careful how he proceeds.
“Miss Carson,” he starts again, trying to sound flat and dry, like he can make this impersonal, “did not live up to the code of conduct we expect from everyone involved with the academic life and overall functioning of the university. We are very strict on that. No exceptions.”
Elijah and I turn to Lucas, sensing that it’s his time to shine.
It seems we’re correct: he’s trying to hide a wry smirk.
“Everyone?” Lucas inquires, letting the word ring out nice and slow.
The Dean’s face has gone a ghostly white. I see him try to fight a nervous swallow, but he proceeds to fucking gulp like a frightened cartoon character.
I’d love to play poker with this guy sometime.
“It’s…no exceptions.”
The Dean is not doing well, and I’d almost feel bad for him, if there weren’t a very simple way for him to make his all stop.
Shit, I should remind him just in case.
“Academia has a reputation for being a free and open-minded institution.” I start pacing like a professor as I give my speech. “I’d imagine that sometimes, it can be easy to get caught up in old-fashioned mores, even for someone of your stature. However, if you’d like to make things right, I don’t think any of us would mind being done with this meeting already.”
The Dean’s eyes are wide and fixed on some far-off point.
“No re-admittance. No exceptions.”
This poor bastard’s in denial. He’s deeply hoping that we’re done with our argument, and we’ll just leave him alone now.
Unfortunately for him, we’ve done our homework. We got just the thing to make sure he will give in.
Elijah places the leather satchel down gently on the desk, covering the Dean’s hectic mess of paperwork and folders.
The Dean’s eyes widen even more, which I didn’t think was possible. His breathing is becoming audibly shallow.
“What’s that?” He’s still trying to sound calm, but the perspiration forming in his forehead says otherwise.
“Just clippings from the Times, the New Yorker, the Village Voice, publicly available material.”
“Is the rest of the faculty really in the dark about this?” Again, I can’t stop myself from asking. “Is the student body?”
The Dean is breathing a bit easier now, and the color’s returning to his face. He knows the charade is over, at least with us.
“Those stories are from thirty, thirty-five years ago.”
“Also twenty years ago, ten,” Lucas adds.
“There’s nothing especially damning in any of them,” Elijah continues. “Just a rising star in New York academia who’s also a bit of a Casanova on the social scene.”
Elijah’s still fucking killing it. We’ve got him now, and it’s time to pull back a bit.
“That’s a very charit…nice way of phrasing it. I’ve had a few…okay, a fucking lot of affairs over the years, and the decades.”
The Dean shakes his head. It’s this self-reflection he was trying to avoid.
“Also a few marriages, until I realized I wasn’t good at being married.”
“It’s not for you,” I interrupt, finally sitting down in the wood chair next to me, “that’s okay, it’s not for everyone.”
Lucas and Elijah sit down in their chairs while the Dean States solemnly at the satchel, probably reflecting on life decisions.
“None of us are perfect.” Lucas picks up where I left off, bringing us into the homestretch, “and it’s tough being in the public eye for anyone.”
“It is.” The Dean’s usual demeanor is starting to come back. “Look, that stuff’s old news, and I never claimed to be perfect—but it would be very difficult for me to go back on this.”
“That lifestyle’s in the past for you, isn’t it?” I ask. “Not that it matters, it’s not like you’re married anymore.”
“Not for many years,” the rosiness starts falling from the Dean’s cheeks once again as he replies.
“That’s your personal life, and it’s fine. It’s not like you’re holding other people to some standard that you’re not living up to yourself.”
“And if you are, maybe it’s time to see the error of your ways,” Elijah states calmly, patting the satchel.
The Dean knows that even old news can have an impact when it’s brought to light—especially when it runs counter to a public image that he’s trying hard to preserve.
“We don’t think you’ve done anything worth losing your standing over, Dean Hughes, and neither has Sofie. Maybe it’s time to re-evaluate your stand about such things, Casanova.”
This time, Lucas really is bringing it home.
“We’ve been happy to contribute, generously, to the university over the years.” Elijah’s adding the finishing touches. “We wouldn’t want to see that relationship end.”
“It’s…very unusual, but given the circumstances, such as your generosity, I’ll see to it, personally, that Miss Carson’s former standing with the university is reinstated by Monday.”
“Monday?” I say it a little too loudly, but he gets the message.
“By tomorrow morning, that is...I mean, later this afternoon.”
Elijah starts sliding the leather satchel across the desk towards the Dean, but stops abruptly, keeping his hand on it tightly.
“Do you want me to send her an email myself?” the Dean snarls.
“Sure. But there is one more thing.” Elijah starts standing up, hovering over the desk, “Who was it who tipped you off about the auction?”
“Christ,” the Dean grouses, “we’ve been having issues with him, I don’t need to go down that rabbit hole. And now this...His departure is long overdue.”
“Greg,” I say, just to make sure.
“Yes, ‘Greg’ as you call that…person. He’s gone, immediately.”
“We share your disgust, Dean Hughes,” Elijah says, letting go of the satchel. “Why don’t you hold onto this?”
Dean Hughes has the satchel off the desk and into a drawer in less than a second.
“That was a productive meeting,” the Dean announces, standing up as if nothing happened, “I hope we see you gentlemen back here soon.”
Sofie
“I understand now.”
I don’t feel good, well not great at least, but after that visit from Lucas, Oliver and Elijah, and the amazing support of my best friend, there’s a sense of normalcy returning.
“Alright, babe, I’ll indulge you today. Tell me about this new understanding.”
Chloe’s back to normal, too. I think.
“Other people.”
“Come on, Sofie. I know you’re into plants and shit, but you’re no egoist.”
I don’t know if I believe Chloe.
I’m still wrapped up in my own weird, developing situation, thinking about a much different future than the one I had planned. Now, I’m running into the room and talking to Chloe about my own shit, and I’m just now noticing how she’s slouching on the couch, looking very comfortable with a cup of coffee on the end table next to her.
So, I’m still not sure if she’s right, but I’m working on it.
“What kind of coffee is that you’re drinking, Chloe? Does that keep you up at night? I know not everyone’s sensitive…”
“It’s the coffee kind of coffee, Chloe, and I drink a fuckton of it every day, as you’re well aware.”
I am well aware, and Chloe sees through me like no one else. I can’t hide from her.
“I knew that, but, fuck, I forgot what I was trying to say in
the first place.”
Chloe lightly pats the seat next to her on the couch.
“It’s okay, Chloe. Come take a seat on our beautiful couch so I can remind you.”
I start walking over fast.
“I’m honestly in suspense,” I admit while eagerly taking a seat.
“So, you were telling me that you finally understood other people, though I’m not sure what that means, and you became really worried about being self-centered, even though you’ve dedicated your life to helping others and continue to do so, so, yeah, I think that about covers it.”
I nod my head, probably looking much more sarcastic than I mean to be.
“Shit, yeah, thanks for that.”
“You can always rely on me when your short-term memory fails you.” Chloe picks up her coffee cup and takes a sip like she’s in a commercial. “That’s where this shit comes in handy.”
“You’re preaching to the fucking choir there.”
“I know it,” Chloe answers in a voice that’s just a little too high and really fucking hilarious.
So, it’s enough for a tiny laugh from me right now – she can crack me up some other time.
“All I meant was that I understand that it’s not only okay to ask other people for help, but that refusing to ask no matter what can make things really fucking difficult.”
“Hm.” Chloe takes another round from her coffee cup, tilting it back to finish the rest of what’s in there.
“I know it seems simple, Sof, but it’s a great thing to realize when you do.”
This is not our usual conversation style. It’s the type of thing we may have laughed at, up until recently.
I take it as a sign that of a genuine friendship, one I would never doubt.
“I’ll try to remember,” I tell Chloe.
“Yeah, that’s part of it, but if you ever falter, especially if it’s because you’re embarrassed or some shit, remember that most people want to help you, especially people who know you – there are plenty of people who’d do anything for you, because you’ve fucking earned that.”
I don’t know what to say, ‘thanks’ doesn’t seem like enough.
“I know I didn’t want to call the guys to help me out, and I would’ve hated the idea at the time, but, thanks for ignoring my stubbornness, and my pride, and reaching out to them for help.”
“Hey, that’s what besties are for, bitch. Don’t even fucking mention it again, cause I love ya.”
Chloe punctuates that with a little sip from her cup. It’s empty, but the moment is just so perfect for taking a sip that she couldn’t pass it up.
“It didn’t hurt your pride now, did it?” Chloe asks me, half-joking.
“No,” I answer honestly. “I don’t feel that at all, which is kind of amazing – I feel like we’re all just, it sounds too simple but, we’re in this together, and we’re all equals.”
“Sofie...” Chloe’s looking at me, and I’m being so earnest and everything, she must be gearing up to make fun of me, just a little, to bring me back to Earth.
“That’s great.” She sounds serious, but I’m not sure. “I’m so proud of you. Really.”
She looks serious.
“Um, thanks.”
“Sorry, I don’t know if I’m being over the top, it’s just...”
Holy shit! I see a bit of a tear in Chloe’s eye. She wipes it away immediately, but I guess she’s not joking.
“...seeing you right after you got expelled, I’ve never seen you like that before. It made me feel so horrible. Now...”
A loud, electronic ding sound shoots out from my pocket at the worst possible moment.
“Ah, fuck, I’m sorry, Chloe. I thought I put my phone on silent. And I think that’s an email alert like that’s so fucking urgent for me right now. Hold that thought, I just need to turn this thing off.”
I don’t think I’ve ever been so angry at a phone before.
I pull the phone out furiously, and when I look at the screen, I see that the email app is already open.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me, I don’t want to see my goddamn emails right now.”
I’m too ashamed to even look at Chloe until I’ve either turned my phone off or smashed into tiny pieces.
I also try to avoid looking at my emails, fearful that there’ll be something about the expulsion or my scholarship ending.
I’m not ready to deal with that yet.
Sure enough, when I’m about to smash a button, any button, to prevent my phone from interrupting again, I catch the glimpse of an .edu address at the top of the list of emails.
And above that is Dean Kent Hughs’ name in bold.
“I think the Dean emailed me himself. I guess he wanted to remind me I’m expelled.”
“No fucking way,” Chloe says merrily, “did he really say that? I want to see that shit for myself, that’s ridiculous.”
“Hold on, let me read the whole thing first.”
I open the message.
It’s short, barely three sentences long. After taking five seconds to read it, I feel like I’ve just come up for air after being underwater for an eternity.
“Don’t hold out, Sofie. What did it say? It looks like you’re about to laugh like crazy.”
Chloe’s right. I throw my head back and let out a flurry of laughs.
“Holy shit, girl,” Chloe enthuses, “is it that good, maybe getting expelled was worth it.”
Suddenly, I’m laughing so hard I nearly start coughing. After my hysterical fit dies down enough so I can talk, I try explaining myself to Chloe.
“I wasn’t laughing because of anything funny, not until what you just said.”
After the last couple laughs escape me, I feel fucking incredible, almost like I just had an orgasm or three.
“You weren’t laughing because of anything funny? I don’t understand that sentence, sweetie. What’s making you laugh so hard?”
“I-I don’t know. I just read this email from the Dean to disregard our last meeting, and that my status as a student is reinstated effective immediately...” I trail off, succumbing to another intense bout of giggles.
“Wait, what?”
My phone dings with another notification, and after I look at the fresh email on my phone, I actually double over, laughing hard enough that tears start streaming out.
The world goes away for a few moments until a heavenly, post-laugh composure sweeps over me.
“What the fuck is going on Sofie?” Chloe’s voice is fraught with frustration and bewilderment.
“I don’t know why those two messages made me laugh so hard, but, damn that feels good.”
“Did you say you were reinstated?”
“That’s what Dean’s email said. I was skeptical until I got another email confirming that my scholarship is also reinstated.”
“Holy fuck, just like that? Just now?”
Chloe finally gets into the spirit of the moment, practically screaming out a few laughs as I do the same.
“That’s actually fucking hilarious,” Chloe says after we both regain some control.
“I better keep my email alerts on, seems like it’s good luck.”
“Your good luck is those three guys.”
Chloe’s smiling at me, her eyes still full of laughter.
My phone buzzes in my hand. It’s a different kind of alert, this one for a text message.
I ignore it for the time being, dumbfounded and overjoyed as I grasp the real reason everything turned around so fast.
Three real reasons, to be precise.
“You’re right, Chloe. I feel like I won the lottery.”
“Feel like that if you want, and the guys clearly love the shit out of you, but you’ve earned this. You’ve earned it by being who you are.”
I feel like there’s still a tear in my eye, left over from all the laughing, and it looks like Chloe’s going through the same issue. Which reminds me...
“Chloe, what were you about to say earlier,
before my phone decided to interrupt you?”
“I was just talking about how, after the expulsion and your ex and all that shit, everything seems to be turning around for you so fast. But now I realize that this has all been a long time coming for you, Sofie because you’re finally getting everything you deserve.”
Yet again, ‘thanks’ doesn’t seem like nearly enough.
I still feel like I won the fucking lottery, and I don’t know if anybody deserves Lucas, or Oliver, or Elijah, much less all three. I don’t know if anybody deserves a BFF like Chloe, either.
But I’m not going to worry about any of that, I’m just going to keep counting my blessings.
I look at my phone, reading the text message to buy myself some time to think of what to say to Chloe.
Speaking of blessings, it’s a message from Lucas.
“Hey, Chloe,” I say while reading the message, realizing this isn’t the response I wanted to give her.
“Do you know where Head of Pond Road is? There’s no town name in this address. Oh, never mind, they’re sending a car and, shit, I’ve only got twenty minutes.”
“That’s somewhere in Long Island, babe. I think it’s in the Hamptons, which means I think I know who that message is from.”
“I think you’re spot on.”
“And I think you’ve got just enough time to get ready.”
“On it.”
I hoist myself up from the couch, still a tad dizzy from laughing. After my first awkward couple steps to the bathroom, I turn around to look to look at my best friend, still sitting on the couch.
“One more thing, Chloe.”
“What is it, Sof?”
“In case there’s ever any doubt: you’re part of my jackpot.”
Sofie
Car rides, or at least very long ones, have never been my favorite thing.
I enjoy moving around the city almost any other way: taxis, feet, bicycles, those types of things.
I mean, don’t get me wrong, limos are nice, and I’ve been enjoying them quite a bit recently.
In fact, the very one that I’m writing in right now—we just crossed the Brooklyn Bridge, heading somewhere east, somewhere mysterious—it’s pretty fucking nice.
The King's Virgin Bride Page 54
