by Mott, Teisha
The Bet
A Persaud Girl Novel
Also by Teisha Mott
Persaud Girl 2 - Just Perfect!
Persaud Girl 3 - On Time
The Bet
Teisha Mott
The Bet. Copyright © 2012 by Teisha Mott.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
ISBN:1477696970
ISBN-13:978-1477696972
To Kadia. It has been a really long road to today. Thanks for being with me every step of the way. You are more than my best friend -- you are my sister from another mister.
Always,
T
The Bet
“Writing a book is an adventure. To begin with, it is a toy and an amusement; then it becomes a mistress, and then it becomes a master, and then a tyrant. The last phase is that just as you are about to be reconciled to your servitude, you kill the monster, and fling him out to the public.”
~ Winston Churchill.
3
The Bet
prologue
(University of the West Indies, 2000)
Monday, 12 noon
“And I tell you, she was all over me like hot wax!” Jeremy took a long gulp from his Sprite before continuing to brag about his latest date, or ‘conquest’ as he preferred to call them. “She was so hot for me!” Jeremy grinned. “I had her double W in five seconds flat!”
Jeremy Malcolm was a third year undergraduate at the University of the West Indies’ Mona campus, majoring in Actuarial Science and apparently minoring in the girls of the University. He had a free hour between Applied Statistics and Risk Theory, and decided to spend it enjoying Subway sandwiches and playing bard to his three best friends, Omar Phillips, Micah Elliot and Nathan Hansen. Secretly, they really thought that Jeremy was exaggerating. After all, most of the women he had claimed were double W – weak and willing - if asked, would probably have a very different story to tell. But Jeremy’s canards were entertaining, if nothing else, and the guys usually indulged him.
“You carrying her out again?” Omar quizzed.
“You must be out of your bloody mind!” Jeremy guffawed. “My yout’, rude bwoy nuh play stukkie. You know how many ‘B’s’ want a piece of the J-Man?”
Nathan rolled his eyes to the heavens, a gesture that Jeremy did not miss.
“What was that for?” Jeremy asked
“How many Bs want a piece of the J-Man... rude bwoy nuh play stukkie...” Nathan mimicked. “Gimme a big break!”
Jeremy’s eyes narrowed. “Tell us, Nate, what – or who – did you do last weekend, hmm?”
Nathan smiled haughtily. “Real men don’t kiss and tell, Jeremy.”
“Oooh!” Omar and Micah, the fourth member of the little posse, exclaimed simultaneously.
Jeremy was not amused. “The reason you won’t tell is because you don’t have anything to tell!” He looked at Micah and Omar. “Matter of fact, I can bet my mojo that our good friend Mr Hansen here is still a virgin!”
“And I can bet mine that you’re still a virgin too!” Nathan returned. “We all know, Jeremy, that the only thing true about all your stories, is that they’re all fiction.”
Jeremy was getting angry. “Just shut up, Hansen!” He snarled. “Yuh just pissed ‘cause you’re jealous. It just burns you that I can lay any girl on this campus while all you can get is ‘Anne Palmer and her five sisters’ night after night!”
“You seem to know far more ’bout ‘Ms Palmer’ and her siblings than me,” quipped Nathan. “Look, don’t get it twisted. Because I respect the girls I date and don’t describe every detail about them to all of you doesn’t mean I don’t have any. There’s not one girl on this campus that I can’t lay if I want to.”
Jeremy sucked his teeth. “If you’re such a big man then put your money where your mouth is!”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” Jeremy snapped. “You said you can get any girl on this campus, so prove it. I will pick a girl, and we will see how much of a man you really are.”
“Now hold on…” Omar began.
“You must be outta your mind,” Nathan laughed. “I’m not betting anything with you.”
“Because you’re a punk, and you know you’ll lose!” mocked Jeremy.
“No, because is eediat t’ing dat!” Micah chimed in.
“And because I, Nathan Hansen, don’t have to prove anything to you!” Nathan returned.
“And, bredren, because you know you bound to lose!” Jeremy was insistent.
Nathan sighed. “You’re an asshole, Jeremy!”
“And you’re a virgin, Nathan! And you’re not only a virgin, but a coward virgin at that!”
“All right! Enough!” Micah interjected. “Now, gentlemen, we know both of you are ‘cocksmen’ and neither of you are virgins. Nobody’s betting on any girls alright? You can’t…”
“You know what Micah, I’m tired of this. Jeremy is just full of shit, and it’s time for somebody to teach him a lesson.” Nathan glared at Jeremy, “You want a bet? Fine!” But when I get the girl, you better come clean ‘bout all them lies you tell.”
“Nathan, you can’t…” Micah began.
“And when you lose,” Jeremy interrupted, “you have to tell everyone on Preston Hall that you’re a virgin!” Jeremy held Nathan’s stare and interposed a wry grin.
“You cannot…” Micah tried again.
“Fine by me, Jeremy, ‘cause I won’t lose. Nathan’s clenched teeth made his jaws widen and spasm like an overworked muscle. Micah had not seen Nathan this annoyed since freshman year, after a particularly gruelling hazing session had left him wearing nothing but honey, flour and a frown.
“Guys, I think…”
No one cared what Micah thought. Jeremy and Nathan were too busy sneering at each other.
Jeremy took the last swig of his drink and dunked his sprite bottle into the nearby garbage bin. “How soon do we find the girl?”
***
Thursday Afternoon
It was four thirty, and the main library was buzzing with activity.
“Girlies, girlies, girlies!” Jeremy smacked his lips. “Into which of these studious babes do you want to sink your…”
“Don’t be graphic, Jeremy.” Nathan snapped. “Just pick one, and let’s get out of here. I have things to do.”
Jeremy’s scanned the reading room a second time. There were girls everywhere. Cute girls, ugly girls, fat ones, skinny ones, girls of all shades, shapes and nationalities. For a moment, he toyed with the idea of picking the pudgy library assistant in oversized glasses, but quickly decided to give his friend a more glorious chance at failure. Then she entered the library. She was stunning. Dressed simply in a pair of low-rise pale blue jeans, white tank top and a navy blue jacket slung idly over her left shoulder for when the library became cold later on. Her long wavy, bright auburn hair hung in a loose, side-swept ponytail that fell just below her right shoulder, and her fair skin was smooth and creamy. Jeremy wet his lips. He imagined that she smelled like baby powder, and that her lips tasted like ripe lychees. When she spotted her group, she smiled ever so faintly, and exposed straight white teeth.
“Perfect!” Jeremy thought. Not because she reminded him of his sister’s favourite doll, but because she was what he would characterise as a ‘nice girl’; the kind that he would never date himself because she was far too smart to ‘let off’. This girl had a solid upbring
ing, probably majoring in Psychology and decidedly focused on getting her degree and maintaining her virginity until marriage. She would never let Nathan touch her with a ten-foot pole. He smiled wickedly.
“There she is!” He said, nodding towards his girl of choice, as she made her way to her table.
“Where?” Nathan asked
“Her…with the red hair and Hialeah Academy jacket over her shoulder?”
Nathan looked at her and gasped. He knew that girl, and he did not intend to mess with her.
“No!” He declared. “No way! Absolutely not!”
“Look, the terms are that I choose the girl, and I have chosen.”
“You know who that is?” Nathan questioned. “Her father is head of the Economics Department and Dean of the Social Science Faculty. Worse than that, he lectures me! Plus, her aunt and uncle own the Montego Bay Mercy Hospital! My mother still works there, in case you forgot. Not to mention the fact that her grandparents have more say in this country than the prime minister and God! Look, I’m not messing with that one!”
“Because you couldn’t lay her even if you tried?” Jeremy grinned. “Such a pity you’re conceding defeat so soon. Next time, don’t let your mouth write a check that your ‘mister’ can’t cash.”
Nathan drew a deep breath, held it, and looked at the girl again. Ugly he could deal with. Overweight, sloppy dresser, bad hygiene… no problem. But drop dead gorgeous, filthy rich and the potential to get him kicked out of University and ruined for life if he made one wrong move, Nathan did not want to risk. But he had to teach Jeremy Malcolm a lesson once and for all. It was time somebody shut him up for good.
“Fine!” He seethed, turning to Jeremy. How long do I have?”
“Till the end of semester.”
“This semester?” Nathan gasped. “That’s impossible!”
Jeremy shrugged. “Eight weeks and counting bredren… take it or leave it. And if you’re taking it, I suggest you start right now.”
11
The Bet
chapter one
Week one. Thursday afternoon 4.16 pm
“Hey peeps...” Klao Persaud slung her jacket over the back of her chair, and plopped her textbooks on the table. “Law class went on forever! I slept through most of it—I thought four o’clock would never come.”
Her cousin, Bianca, smiled. “I’d rather sit through two hours of Torts and Contracts than spend two seconds with my hands in stinky formaldehyde, getting friendly with a cadaver named Joe.”
Bianca Persaud, four months younger than Klao, was a first year medical student. The girls had been best friends ever since they were babies. Klao had two older twin brothers, and Bianca was an only child, so both girls had become surrogate sisters to each other. They had done everything together their whole lives, which was why it was such a surprise to the entire Persaud family that Bianca had decided to become a doctor, while Klao focused on pursuing a career in Law.
“Cuz, if I had one scientific bone in my body, you know I’d exchange with you.” Klao replied, giving Bianca’s shoulder a comforting squeeze.
“And I’d gladly learn torts and contracts for you…not!” Bianca returned with a laugh.
“Well,” Klao returned, “Look at the bright side, if you ever get sued for malpractice, you know I’ll defend you to the end.”
Klao smiled and looked at the third occupant of the table. “Hey Andie, how was your day?”
Anne Dru (or Andie, as everyone called her) had been disgusted with life from the day she was born. A cynic to the core, she preferred to look at the glass as half empty rather than half full. She had spent most of her eighteen years feeling sorry for herself—a major disappointment to her parents, Andrew and Janise Persaud, who had so badly wanted a son for their second child. A little redheaded girl had appeared instead. They had no choice but to settle for sister for their precious ‘Samantha doll’ until their long awaited ‘Christopher darling’ made his debut ten years later. In Andie’s morbid world she was the ugly Persaud, simply because she did not look like either of her parents. Samantha and Christopher both had their mother’s toffee-coloured skin and smooth, honey-brown hair. She did not even look dark and Indian like her father – olive skin and coal black hair. Instead, she was cursed with spirally, copper-red hair, eyes as brown as bauxite and skin that was unnaturally pink for a Caribbean girl. Brown eyes, she could understand. Brown eyes were Persaud eyes, like her father’s eyes, and her aunts and uncles and cousins. Eyes they had inherited from Grandpa Ravi. But where on earth did her red hair and pink skin come from? Her parents had explained about her Aunt Janine, her mother’s only sister, who had died before Andie was born. Aunt Janine had red hair and pink skin. She also had a very dreadful disposition, and no one liked her much, according to what Samantha had told her. Samantha had never met Aunt Janine either, but she knew everything, including the history of both sides of their family tree.
“So what did Daddy do to you today, sis?” Samantha Persaud, the fourth member of the group, inquired sarcastically. She was the oldest of the girls, a year and five months older than her sister Andie, and earnestly looking forward to her twentieth birthday – nineteen going on thirty, her parents noted. She was in her second year at University, majoring in Economics and Statistics and, unlike her sister, enjoyed having her father, Dr Andrew Persaud, as her lecturer, head of department and Dean.
Andie looked jealously at her sister’s long, silky brown hair that was just begging to be touched. The light shone through it, causing her newly acquired blonde highlights to resemble spun gold. Samantha was so beautiful, Andie thought. She would do anything; give anything to look like her sister. Andie shook her head. If wishes were horses, then beggars would ride. She would never be her tall, elegant, brown-haired sister, and Mommy and Daddy’s favourite daughter. She would never be a whiz in Economics. She was Anne Dru, the red-haired, pale-skinned black sheep.
“Well?” Bianca’s voice brought Andie back from her brooding.
“Well, what?”
“What happened in Uncle Andrew’s class?” Klao pressed.
Andie blushed. Her pale skin became the colour of her hair. She was so lost in her self-pity that she had forgotten Samantha’s question.
“First off, he decides to sit next to me through most of the lecture. Then he gives me the marker-chalk-thingy and makes me work a problem on the whiteboard.” Andie sighed dramatically. “Then, if that wasn’t bad enough, he criticised every curve I drew: ‘Anne Dru, the indifference curve only touches one point of the demand curve. If it ran along, then we would have more than one point of indifference, and we know that is impossible. The demand curve is called a curve for a reason. It’s not a straight line…’ Blah blah blah! I was so embarrassed, I wanted to die!”
Samantha smiled. “That’s just Daddy. He does the same thing to me all the time.”
“Number one,” Andie said tartly, “I’ve been enduring this punishment since kindergarten. He has been hammering me with Economics concepts from birth. And number two,” she switched to her whiny voice, “Why can’t he be like other lecturers? Take Dr Tabanor, all she does is talk for the two hours of Sociology, and all we do is take notes. No interaction. No getting to know names. No sitting beside students. No embarrassment.”
“You know Uncle Andrew can’t be like a regular lecturer,” Klao pointed out. “He’s not even a regular guy. He has always been different.”
“Different is an understatement,” Samantha agreed. “I remember last year in Intro to Macroeconomics class... the air con was down, and the entire class was so bored and hot and lethargic. Daddy was just not getting through to us. I mean, he was lecturing his guts out and the entire class, including me, was just nodding away.” She paused and looked at Andie, Klao and Bianca before continuing. “It so happened that there was a one-day cricket match on at Sabina Park the next day, and Daddy always has ti
ckets. Out of the blue, he just yelled, ‘Okay everybody, it’s time to bowl for tickets!’ We had a mini cricket match right there in the Lecture Theatre, and Dad gave tickets to the Red Stripe Mound to everybody who could hit the wicket. That certainly woke us up. We had a blast, and everyone was talking about it for weeks!”
“Well, he better not pull any crap like that in my class.” Andie declared. “I swear I will disown him if he does. Anyway, I need to get a book from the West Indies Collection. Soon come back.”
***
Nathan Hansen watched Anne Dru Persaud cross the main reading room of the library and climb the stairs that lead to the West Indies Collection reading room. How on earth was he supposed to approach this girl, let alone get her to go out with him and sleep with him by the end of the semester? He did not even know her. All he knew was that she was Dr Persaud’s daughter and she was in first year. He took a deep breath and followed her up the stairs. He watched her bend over the computer to run a search on the reference material she needed. A lock of hair fell over her eyes, and she unconsciously pushed it back, only to have it promptly fall over again. She remembered that she had pulled her hair back earlier, twisting it into a loose ponytail as a nervous response to her father’s haranguing. As she attempted to secure the unruly tress a second time, the entire wavy red mane became undone and cascaded below her shoulders. Nathan watched in amusement as she gathered the entire mass of hair, rolled it into a knot and used a pencil to secure it. That was that. No more stray hair in her eyes. Nathan smiled. Obviously a no-nonsense one this one was—just like her father. Dr Persaud lectured him, and was one of his favourite lecturers—firm but fun. He often spoke of his two daughters and his son, and Nathan had even met Samantha when they sat next to each other in Statistical Methods I, back when he was in second year. Samantha had been one of the few first years carrying Statistical Methods I as an extra credit course. He had liked Samantha. She was smart and polite, and very down-to-earth; not at all like the snob he expected her to be. As lovely as Samantha was, though, he never considered dating her, or anyone in her family. Nathan did not think he was of the Persauds’ ilk. The Persauds were one of the wealthiest families in Jamaica, and were actually on Forbes’ top 500 in the world. Anne Dru was a part of that family; that cute, fair-skinned, red haired girl, patiently waiting for her book. What had he gotten himself into? He had to approach her now if he would have even a fighting chance at winning the stupid bet he had so foolishly made with his friend.
