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May 21, 2004
Marks - Chapter 2
By QBlog in
Marks is a novel that tells the story of a young married couple, two college roommates and a successful businessman whose lives ultimately intertwine as the result of a business opportunity — and a dream. Quixtar BLOG is publishing Marks as a serial, making a new installment available every Friday.
If you missed chapter one, never fear, it's still here for your reading pleasure.
Disclaimer: This book has not been through a final edit. There may be some misspelled words and grammatical errors. Please understand that as you read through the novel.
» Chapter 2
Ohio, US
When Heart Magazine named Kenton University the party school of the year, neither the alumni nor the current students were surprised. The campus was strewn with beer bottles and graffiti for a week as both groups celebrated the title with as much enthusiasm as other schools commemorated bowl wins.
Kenton was a small, private school just north of Cincinnati. The institution housed a tiny but accomplished Honors program and a well-respected engineering department. Although these academic opportunities of the school were much touted in recruitment brochures, they brought in few students and little money. The theology and business schools funded everything at Kenton – from the state of the art research civil engineering research lab to the Honors program scholarships.
Several years before, the McIntyre School of Theology made the sound financial decision to offer a major in alternative religions. The program quickly became a popular choice for young women who liked to dress in flowing robes, experiment with promiscuity and take classes like “Advanced Therapeutic Bathing” and “Polyamorous Symbolism in Modern Worship.” Many of the alternative religions students were graduates of Catholic high schools, so collectively they were known as the Scary Marys.
The average business student was male. He occasionally attended class, sowed his wild oats among the Scary Marys and departed after four short years with a degree, a suitable wife from outside of the school of theology and a secure position in his father’s furniture store, car dealership or brokerage firm.
Marco Brand and Jacob McCoy were juniors in the business school. They had been friends since prep school when Marco had come to the rescue of the slender, quiet boy who was an easy target for the bullies on the wrestling team. Together they managed to graduate without too many scars. They were an unlikely pair — the smart-mouthed, muscular, six-foot tall blond who never had the grades to go out for football and the short, shy outcast who slicked his dark hair back and worked hard for every B.
It had been Marco’s idea to go to Kenton.
“Kenton University,” Jacob’s father often muttered to whoever would listen. He shook his head and rolled his eyes to the sky as if those two words summed up all his burdens. John McCoy worked hard and made a comfortable living as a construction foreman. He never let his son forget the sacrifices he made for the family. “First in the family to go to college and a state school isn’t good enough for him.”
Marco was the one who arranged to rent an off-campus apartment together freshman year and pledge Gamma Tau Tau that winter. Jacob’s allowance didn’t cover the membership fees, so he had a part-time job delivering pizzas to make up the difference.
Sometimes Jacob wondered what college would have been like had he been blackballed when he pledged Gamma Tau Tau. The fraternity house was always so loud, he found it impossible to study and his grades had been slipping steadily. Work, the endless parties and required community service projects ate up most of his evenings. Each responsibility whittled out a chunk of Jacob’s time and energy until there was little left for class work.
The worst part was the nickname. One of the older brothers had called him “Jakey” and the name stuck. Now students he couldn’t remember even meeting yelled out to him as if he were a toddler.
Joining the fraternity did come with some benefits, Jacob had to admit, one gorgeous, curvy benefit in particular. Bethany Jenkins would have never given him a second look if he didn’t wear a green and blue Gamma Tau Tau jacket. Sometimes he couldn’t believe that such a perfect person was interested in him.
“Hey Jakey.” The despised nickname came out of Bethany’s mouth like a purr when she walked up to him in front of the student union. She threw back her long, streaked blonde hair and laughed as she waved goodbye to some girlfriends and consciously ignored a frowning groups of Scary Marys. With her faded jeans low on her hips and the tight off-the-shoulder cropped top that showed off her toned arms and stomach, Bethany made the other co-eds look frumpy in comparison.
She curled into Jake’s arms like she belonged there. Jake knew people watched her and wondered why she was with someone as ordinary as him.
“How did your French test go?” he asked as he nuzzled her neck. Bethany had complained about the exam during dinner the night before — she had needed to study for it but decided to celebrate their ten month anniversary instead.
“I think I managed to get through it okay,” she said. “But I don’t want to talk about school. I’m done for the day. What’s the plan for tonight?”
“I’m working until nine,” Jake answered with a frown. “Then I really have to review for my International Business Law midterm. Want to meet at the library and study together?”
Bethany leaned back and looked up at him with bright eyes.
“Why don’t we meet at the frat house? We can study there.”
“No, there’s a party tonight. A mixer with Beta Omicron.”
“Great! We can study upstairs and then go down and relax when we’re finished.”
“We never do, though. It will be too loud to study so we’ll just go to the party instead. I really need to do well on this test.”
Bethany’s full lips turned downward and started to quiver.
“Every night you’re either delivering pizzas or at the library. You never have time to just hang out.”
“That’s not true.” Jake was stung by the unfairness of her accusation. He couldn’t remember the last time he had spent an evening studying.
Bethany’s eyes began to water.
“It is true,” she whispered. “You care more about Business Ethics or whatever than you do about me.”
She looked so broken-hearted that Jake relented. He nudged her delicately curved chin up with his thumb and gave her an encouraging smile.
“We’ll go to the party,” he promised. “You’re right. You just had a hard test and you need a night to relax.”
“I’m not saying we can’t study,” Bethany explained. Her eyes shone happily again. “I just want to do it at the house.”
“I know, I know.”
Bethany snuggled back into his arms and Jake gave her forehead a light kiss. He hoped it was one of the rare slow nights for pizza delivery. He needed every bit of studying time he could fit in.
“What should I wear?” Bethany asked. The words were muffled because her mouth was pressed against his shoulder.
“Whatever. You look great in anything.”
Bethany backed away from his chest and wrinkled her nose. Jacob knew he had to make a decision. Bethany cared about her appearance and liked to think that it was important to her boyfriend, too.
“How about that blue off-the-shoulder dress?” he asked. “The one that’s like velvet?”
“Perfect!” Bethany clapped her hands together like a little girl. “I’m going to start getting ready now. I’ll look so good, you’ll be shocked.”
“But it’s not even three yet,” Jacob protested as she wriggled out of his arms and gathered up her backpack. “I won’t be back at the house until after nine.”
Bethany giggled and ran her fingers through his dark hair. She liked it mussed. She said it made him look like he just rolled out of bed and wouldn’t mind rolling back in.
“The party’s probably going on already, Jakey. Just find me when you get there. I won’t drink too much so we can get some studying done.”
Jacob sighed and watched her go.
Dr. Richard Bean idly swiveled in his chair and caught a glimpse of his reflection in the glass of the window behind his desk. He was shocked at how old and bald he had become. He shaved in the bathroom mirror everyday and never noticed the change, but every once in a while he would catch a fleeting glance of his shriveled self and it always came as a surprise.
He frowned and turned his attention back to the thick pile of papers in front of him. His hairline wasn’t the only part of him that had diminished, he reflected as he tried to decipher yet another page of scrawls. When he started teaching he had been the stereotypical idealistic young professor — ready to challenge students and make the curriculum come alive. Now, he counted down the days until vacation and complained about lowered expectations in the faculty room. He was still a cliché, but a much sadder one.
He made a quick swipe of red ink across two entire paragraphs and circled a large ‘F’ on top of the paper. When he won a tenure-track position at Kenton University right out of graduate school, Richard thought his career and future were set. While his classmates fought each other for post-doc positions and took adjunct posts at community colleges, he chatted with his new boss, the Dean of the Business School, about schedules and admissions. He knew Kenton’s reputation, of course, but he was sure that there would be a few genuine, intelligent scholars that would keep his enthusiasm for teaching high.
Quite honestly, there had been a few. But each year there were fewer still and now he faced every new semester with the quiet certainty that far more students would deserve to fail than would earn solid A’s and B’s. Not that very many would actually receive an F on their report card. School policy severely limited the number of failing grades a teacher could give.
Richard sighed and reached for another paper, ready to mark it to shreds even if it became a B+ once the pitiful curve was applied.
“Hey, Richard.” Dr. Leona Smythe opened the door, spoke and gave a cursory knock simultaneously. “I was just going to take a break and have a nice cup of tea. Join me?”
Richard smiled at the redheaded chairperson of the English Department. ‘Smitty’ had an office just down the hall and was known for her loud outfits, boisterous presentations, large frame and hourly breaks.
“Leona, I didn’t take many literature classes, but sometimes my time at Kenton remind me of a poem — the one that goes something like I have measured my days with coffee cups.”
Leona wedged her body through the door and put her hands on her fleshy hips.
“Thank God you chose business,” she said in mock disgust. “Even high school freshmen know The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock. T.S. Eliot.”
Leona glided into the office, her arms swinging as if she were preparing to waltz.
“In a minute there is time,” she recited, her body moved theatrically with the words. She never said poems as they were written, with strict pauses between lines. She read them like dialogue from a play. “For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse. For I have known them all already, known them all — I have measured out my life with coffee spoons; I know the voices dying with a dying fall beneath the music from a farther room. So how should I presume?”
“That’s my life,” Richard said, dropping his head on the stack of papers. He found it easy to confide in Leona. For all her drama, she was the sincerest person on campus. “The minutes last forever. I just mark time until the next cup of coffee.”
“You don’t drink coffee,” Leona pointed out.
“Tea, then. You know what I mean.”
“That’s what life is,” Leona said with a shrug. “You can’t have excitement everyday and you wouldn’t be happy if you did. You just keep going and pass the hours however you can.”
“You’re right.” Richard’s voice was flat.
Leona looked at her friend with concern and pulled a chair up close to his desk.
“Look,” she said hastily. “You’re just in a little funk. God, who wouldn’t be in this place? You don’t even get to teach any Honors classes to give yourself some break to the mindlessness of it all. I know there isn’t much in the budget, but how about you apply for a research grant? You need something to sink your teeth into and challenge yourself. What was your dissertation on again, African economy?”
“Nigerian, but that was nearly twenty years ago. There have been so many changes but I was too busy to keep up. Busy doing what, I couldn’t tell you.”
“But still. You’re an expert in the Nigerian economy. Brainstorm a little, come up with a good topic. Put out some feelers for money. The University isn’t the only place that can fund you. I’m sure there are associations and programs that need someone to give donations to. You’d feel better if you had some paper, maybe even a book, to work on.”
She looked so worried that Richard forced himself to laugh reassuringly.
“You’re right, of course. Let’s have that tea so I’ll be fortified to get started on all these big plans.”
Leona patted his hand and rose from the chair.
“You’ll be fine. Let’s go. I bet my water is boiling by now.”
As soon as Richard stood up the telephone rang.
“I’ll meet you there,” he promised. Leona waved at him and pulled the door shut as she left the office. Richard let the telephone ring again before he answered.
“Dr. Richard Bean,” he answered in his most professional tone.
“Professor Bean.” The man on the other end of the line had a strong, confidant voice. He sounded like someone who expected complete attention and cooperation. “Jonathon Brand here. I’m looking at a midterm report that arrived in the mail this morning for my son, Marco. I’m wondering why I’m spending $35,000 a year in tuition just to have him fail two of your classes.”
Richard reached across his desk for his leather-bound grade book.
“Marco Brand,” he said to stall for time as he flipped through the pages. The younger professors in the department kidded him about not keeping his records on a computer, but he preferred a copy he could carry with him.
“That’s right. Has Kenton become so large that you can’t remember your own students? Is that the personal attention you boast about in the school catalog?”
Richard gave an audible sigh.
“Mr. Brand,” he said as politely as he could. “I see that your son is a junior. I’m assuming he is not a minor. Therefore, I can’t discuss his grades with you.”
“You can’t discuss his grades?” Brand echoed. “I’m the one paying for those grades. That makes them my grades. Let’s discuss those.”
“I understand your frustration, I really do. But it’s a school policy. I don’t want to lose my job.” Richard looked down at the grades and attendance record and silently cursed the lazy student who racked up a steady line of zeros and had never shown up to class.
“Believe me, if you want to keep your job you’d better have a excuse reason for failing my son.”
Something inside Richard burst. He didn’t deserve to be threatened. He didn’t need to protect some stupid kid. Perhaps he couldn’t break school policy, he decided, but he could bend it a tad.
“Mr. Brand,” he said with a calmness he didn’t feel. “I might not be able to give you the details about your son’s performance in my classes, but I can tell you my own grading system. Let’s put it this way — it is very hard to fail my class. If a student shows up to even one class, takes just one test or turns in the smallest amount of homework, he would probably pass or at least be closer to it than your son. Read into that what you will.”
There was silence.
“I see,” Brand said finally. “Professor Bean, do you have any children.”
“No, sir. I don’t.”
“The thing about kids is, you want the best for them.” Brand spoke very slowly. “You want to think the best about them. Then one day you realize that you have given them too much, but you can’t stop and you can’t go back because they are what you have made them. Is there anything Marco can do to pass this semester?”
Richard felt sorry for the faceless man. He decided to be completely honest.
“I really don’t think so. He is already so far behind. Even if he started doing all the assignments and coming to every class, it would take a miracle for him to do well enough on the exams. I just don’t think it’s possible.”
“What about extra credit?”
“I don’t think — ”
“Let me put it this way, Professor Bean. I really want Marco to pass. If he has to do extra work, if he has to study everyday…” There was a long pause. “If I have to make a generous donation to your department, earmarked as you see fit, I want Marco to pass.”
Richard felt a flutter of excitement in his chest. He prided himself on being an ethical educator, but in actuality the chance to act unethically had never arisen. He knew what he should say. He knew he should be offended at the very suggestion.
The room began to slowly spin around him.
“Well, Mr. Brand,” he began slowly. “I’m preparing to go on a research trip to Nigeria over spring break. All I need is the funding and an able assistant. If the right grant were to come my way, I would be willing to take Marco with me. If he helps with my research and maybe writes a paper on the experience, I think he will have learned enough to warrant a passing grade in my classes.”
Richard held his breath. He hadn’t said anything dishonest. He hadn’t asked for the money or promised a grade, but the ball was firmly in Brand’s court.
“Please write up a proposal, Professor Bean.” Brand spoke cautiously. “I am on the board of a charitable foundation that is eager to support global research. Be sure to include full travel expenses and a generous living stipend. I look forward to reviewing it. I’m going to be on campus next week to have a chat with my son. I’ll stop by your office and pick it up then.”
Richard gently returned the phone to its cradle. His eyes blazed and his heart beat wildly. He couldn’t believe what he had just done. As Leona said, you can’t have excitement everyday. Richard decided he had just had enough to satisfy him for a while.
If Jacob could script the perfect end to his day, he would come home to a quiet house, take a long, hot shower to wash off the smell of oregano and garlic and curl up on the couch with Bethany and his textbook.
Since the rest of the day had not entered the vicinity of perfection, however, he didn’t hold much hope that it would get any better.
The Gamma Tau Tau house was anything but quiet when he pulled his beat-up, second-hand sedan into the muddy yard that served as a parking lot. Jacob heard the throb of the baseline and gleeful squeals before he turned off the engine. The neighbors probably had their hands on their phones, Jacob thought, ready to complain about the noise. The fraternity was already on probation — if they were cited for another noise violation they might lose their charter. No one seemed particularly concerned, though. The threats certainly hadn’t changed the frequency and intensity of GTT parties.
Jacob trudged through the thick mud. He wished he had his own little apartment, an efficiency even, somewhere he didn’t dread coming home to every evening. The only reason he was even there and not at the library was the knowledge that Bethany would be there, waiting for him.
“Hey, Jakey!” a deep voice shouted as soon as Jacob opened the creaky screen door. Jacob didn’t bother to look, he just waved absently in the general direction of the greeting. He let his eyes wander around the room, seeking out Bethany’s shiny, golden hair and bright eyes while he wiped his feet on the filthy scrap of carpet kept just inside the doorway in a futile attempt to keep mud out of the living room.
“Jakey!” a passing brunette yelled. She raised her plastic cup of beer in a mock salute.
“Hey Christine,” Jacob answered. “Have you seen Bethany?”
“She’s around somewhere.” Christine’s body jerked in time with the music. She giggled and moved toward the dining room, which was doubling as the dance floor.
“Jakey!” Marco called from two rooms away. He worked his way through the crowd and managed to snatch two cups of beer from the counter on his way.
“Man, you look like you could use one of these.” Marco laughed as he pressed one of the cups into his friend’s hand.
Jacob marveled at how comfortable Marco was in any situation. He always knew what to say to people, how to act. Jacob felt awkward everywhere, even in this trashed house among his friends and fraternity brothers.
“Thanks. Much needed after this shift. I swear, everyone in town ate pizza tonight.” Jacob paused to take a sip of the foamy, bitter beer. “Have you ssen Bethany?”
Marco shrugged.
“It’s an easy question. Either you’ve seen her or you haven’t.”
Marco smiled easily. Jacob recognized the broad grin that always came out to diffuse difficult situations.
“She’s around,” he said. “I’m just not sure where. Lost her in the crowd, I guess. Are you going upstairs to change?”
“Yeah, and hopefully to study some.”
“Well go on up.” Marco waved his arms toward the staircase. “I’ll keep an eye out for your woman and send her your way.
“Okay,” Jacob muttered, distracted by the sudden tinkling of familiar laughter over the background noise. His gaze moved around the sea of people until they landing on Bethany, draped over a hulking man seated in a dark corner of the dining room.
Jacob pushed past Marco and barreled toward the couple.
“Jakey!” Bethany yelled happily when she saw him. “This is Myles!” She gestured to the man she half-sat on, half-clung to. She reached up and plucked off his VDU baseball cap and positioned it on her own head. “He’s in law school at Vincent day… Vincent di…”
She laughed with glee at her inability to get the right sounds out.
“Vincent diAllegro,” Myles prompted.
“University!” Bethany finished proudly and raised her cup in triumph.
“How much have you been drinking, Bethany?” Jacob concentrated on keeping his voice low and his attention away from Myles. “Let’s get out of here, go have some coffee and talk.”
“Jakey! I don’t want coffee,” Bethany protested. “I want to stay here and learn more about Vincent day…”
“Vincent diAllegro,” Myles corrected patiently and nuzzled her neck.
“University!” she squealed like a cheerleader.
Jacob watched her throw her legs up and kick off one of her ridiculously high heeled shoes. He felt paralyzed — his feet glued to the floor, his hands glued to his side.
“I’m going upstairs now Bethany. Please come with me.”
He didn’t want to beg. He didn’t want to look pitiful. He fought back the tears that stung his eyes and prayed that Bethany would reach out to him.
“Stop being such a sour puss, Jakey.” Bethany sounded bored and
irritated. “I’ll try to come up and kiss you ‘night night’
after while.”
Jacob slowly turned around and began the long walk past the writhing bodies,
across the living room and up the staircase to the bedrooms. He tried to look
straight ahead, not at the sympathetic stares that surrounded him.
His small bedroom was cold and dark. There was no overhead light, just a lamp beside the narrow bed and one on the desk. Jacob didn’t bother to turn either one, he just sat on his hard mattress and stared at the only other piece of furniture, a tall bureau with mismatched drawers.
“Brought you another beer.” Marco pushed the bedroom door open with his toes.
“No thanks. I need to study.”
“I brought two. Want me to turn the lights on?”
Jacob looked down at his hands then glanced at his friend. Marco seemed concerned but not surprised. He strode into the room, clicked on the lamps and sat on the floor facing Jacob.
“She’s drunk, you know,” Marco said while he set the cups down and folded his long legs under him so that he could fit in the tight space. “But that’s no excuse.”
“She’s smart enough not to do anything stupid, right? And tomorrow she’ll be sorry.” Jacob’s voice came out low and shaky.
Marco silently picked at the threadbare carpet.
“You don’t like her.” Jacob raised his voice. “Do you?”
Marco looked up and sipped his beer.
“I like Bethany fine. She’s funny and cute. She’s just not right for you.”
“She’s too good for me, you mean. I’m just quiet, little, stupid Jakey – riding your coattails through college just like I did in high school.”
Marco drew a sharp intake of air.
“I didn’t mean that at all. You are too good for a girl like Bethany Jenkins. You deserve much, much better.”
“There is no one better than her.” Jacob bit the words off. He raked his slender fingers through his dark hair. “Are you jealous? Is that what this is about?”
Marco looked away.
“Maybe it is. Maybe I am jealous of what you have or how much time you spend with her. We don’t just hang out anymore like we used to. That’s probably it. Forget I said anything, okay?”
Jacob shrugged.
Marco stood up, leaving one of the cups on the floor.
“Look,” he continued. “You’re probably right – tomorrow you and Bethany will make up and everything will be all lovey-lovey again.”
“Do you really think so?”
“Yeah,” Marco said, breaking out his smile. “And don’t worry. I’ll take the guy aside and make sure he knows there are limits. I won’t let him take advantage of her.”
“Thanks Marco.”
“No problem. Just don’t take her back right away, okay? Let her sweat a little so she doesn’t take you for granted.”
Jacob snorted.
“Yeah, I’m going to take advice from you. You’ve never had a relationship last longer than a month.”
“Yeah.” Marco echoed. A frown flickered across his face and cemented Jacob’s opinion that he was envious. “Get that studying done then try to sleep. Everything will look better in the morning.:
Jacob waved his friend out and settled back against the headboard. He tugged a notebook out of his canvas backpack and tried to make some sense of his handwriting.
After an unproductive hour he stripped off his shirt and crawled under his scratchy cotton sheets.
When the sunlight broke through the Venetian blinds and woke him up, Jacob’s first sensations were pleasing but uncomfortable warmth and confinement. After he reached full consciousness he realized he wasn’t alone. Bethany huddled against the small of his back. Her arms and legs were wrapped around his waist.
Jacob twisted around to look at her. Even with disheveled hair, smudged lipstick and dark circles around her eyes, he thought she was beautiful.
Roused by the movement and intruding daylight, Bethany hesitantly opened her eyes.
“Hey,” she said softly. “What time is it?”
Jacob glanced at his watch.
“Just after eight.”
“Are you mad at me?”
Jacob didn’t answer, he just looked into her smoky blue eyes.
“I know I was a jerk, Jakey, and I understand if you are mad at me. I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to see me anymore. I don’t know what happened, exactly. I was here and missing you and I had a few drinks while I waited. This guy kept bugging me. I told him about you but he said if my boyfriend really cared about me he would not choose some stupid job over me. I felt so hurt and lonely. You mean everything to me, Jakey. I was just so upset.”
Bethany’s eyes filled with tears. She reached for Jacob’s hand and held it gently between her own.
“Do you hate me?” she whimpered.
Her face registered so much sorrow and shame that Jacob thought his heart might burst. He stroked her hair with his free hand.
“Of course I don’t hate you. It was just a bad night. Honestly, I’m probably as much to blame as you – I knew you wanted to go to the party. I wish I didn’t have to work, but I do.”
Bethany’s face lit up.
“I forgive you, Jakey. I know you don’t want to ask your dad for a bigger allowance. I know that’s important to you for some reason and I’ll try to be more understanding. Is this all behind us?”
“Like it never happened. No hard feelings on your side?”
“None.” Bethany shook her head like a stubborn child.
“I wish I could cuddle with you all morning, but I have to jump in the shower and get moving.”
Bethany dropped her head back onto the pillow.
“Can I stay here a while longer?” she asked. “I have a horrible headache. I’d be useless in class.”
“Of course.”
Jacob slid out of bed and tucked the covers around the sleeping body. He made a mental not to find some aspirin for her before he left.
Jonathon Brand remembered his years at Kenton fondly. He was the starting quarterback and president of his senior class but he still had time to do a nominal amount of studying and sit through the odd lecture.
He leaned back in his oversized leather and mahogany executive chair and blew out a cloud of smoke. His wife, Courtney, thought he had given up the habit before they were married, so he had to limit himself to a few puffs in the office during stressful times. He stared at the half-finished cigarette, reached forward and crushed it in a marble ashtray imprinted with the Brand Family Foods logo.
He grabbed the telephone beside the ashtray and dialed his home number.
“Brand residence,” Courtney sang on the other end of the line. She was always as cheerful and efficient as a receptionist.
“Hi, Sweetness.”
“Jonathon! I was just thinking about you. What’s wrong?”
“Do I only call when something is wrong?”
“Not at all,” Courtney laughed. “You can’t be married to someone for twenty five years and not learn a little something about his tone of voice. Let me guess – you couldn’t wait for Marco to explain that midterm and you called his teacher.”
“You’re psychic.”
“Not at all. Whenever you’re really mad, the source can usually be traced back to Marco. Like I told you this morning, ppening someone else’s mail is a crime, you know.”
Jonathon visualized his athletic wife, not looking a day over thirty five, examining her perfectly frosted nails as she always did when she chatted on the telephone.
“No jury in the country would convict me,” he argued. “Not after they hear what I put up with from that boy.”
“Oh, stop feeling sorry for yourself. Marco got through high school without making us grandparents. He doesn’t do drugs and he dresses normally. We’re luckier than most parents.”
“Right,” Jonathon said flatly. “He’s a real winner.”
“Well, don’t keep me in suspense. What did the professor say?”
“The less said about that conversation, the better. Long story short, we’re going to be paying an outrageous amount of money and your little darling boy is going to be working his rump off in Nigeria during his spring break and hopefully passing this semester as a result.”
“And you actually think you have a chance of talking Marco into this?”
Jonathon fought the urge to reach for another cigarette.
“The boy had better agree to it,” he growled.
Courtney’s sigh was audible over the phone.
“I’m so tired of all this fighting between you two. I’ll get him to go on this trip, just let me handle it my own way.”
Jonathon was troubled by the weariness he heard in his wife’s voice.
“Okay, Sweetness,” he said, using what he hoped was a cheerful tone. “That’s fine. I’ll make the deal, you sell it. Will your way cost me more money?”
“I’m afraid so, Angel.”
The morning sun didn’t wake Marco up. He took care of that potential problem the day he and Jacob moved out of their apartment and into the fraternity house. Between the sheets of aluminum foil taped to the glass and the thick, black curtains, the windows in his tiny bedroom kept the sun light from ever reaching his sleeping eyes.
“This is a fine sight at one in the afternoon.”
Marco’s right eyelid slowly crept open at the familiar voice. He sat up, stretched his arms out wide and completed a long, loud and satisfying yawn.
“Mom. Dad.” He continued stretching and working out the morning kinks in his shoulders and back.
Jonathon Brand fixed his son with a silent stare.
“Put some clothes on, Dear. We’re going out to lunch,” Courtney Brand said cheerfully. She found a pair of jeans and a faded tee-shirt among the crumbled clothes scattered around the room and tossed the selected garments to the foot of the bed.
“No classes this morning?” Jonathon asked with a sneer. “Or did we catch you recuperating after a hard day slaving at the books.”
“Remember, Jon, we’re doing this my way.” Courtney turned to her son. Meet us in the lounge when you’re ready, Sweetheart.”
Marco waited for his parents to close the door behind them before sinking back into his bed and clinching his eyes shut for one last minute. His parents visit was unannounced but hardly a surprise. Midterms came out, he caught hell. That was the semiannual ritual. The tense visit was going to happen, just like the vague and insincere promises to do better. The only variable was the date.
Fifteen minutes later, Marco had showered, shaved and dressed in clean pants and a presentable collared shirt.
“Where’s Dad?” He asked as he walked down the well-worn wooden stair. His mother offered a cheek and he dutifully kissed it.
“He has a meeting on campus this afternoon. I thought we’d have lunch together, just the two of us.”
“Sounds good.” Marco helped his mother slip into her wool jacket, which precisely matched her light tan twin set and skirt. “So long as you’re not going to be giving me a guilt trip, ‘try harder for your Mommy’, lecture through the entire meal.”
“Not at all. Actually, I wanted to talk to you about spring break. I thought you and Jacob might want to do something together. How is Jacob, anyway?’
Marco held the door for his mother then followed her to the family car, a shiny luxury sedan that glistened like a gem in the muddy yard.
“He’s working too hard and way too involved with some girl whose just using him.”
“What on earth could she be using little Jacob for?” Courtney gave a tinkling laugh and started the ignition.
“I have no clue. She probably thinks his family is loaded and he’s just playing down the money thing.”
“She’s certainly in for a shock.” The car eased onto the main road.
“No doubt.”
“Do you think it would help if you got Jacob away for her during spring break?” Maybe had a man-to-man talk with him?”
“It couldn’t hurt,” Marco replied. “But he’s really strapped for cash this year. With living in the house and dropping money on this girl like you wouldn’t believe, he’d never be able to afford any sort of vacation.”
“What if I treated?”
Marco shook his head.
“That would be great, but Jake would never accept that. You know how he is.”
“Okay, here’s what I’m thinking. The Brand Foundation is funding a research trip to Nigeria. The head researcher needs a couple of assistants. If you and Jacob go, he can earn a little spending money and have a nice little vacation. Just maybe the distance will help him see the light about this girl.”
Marco studied his mother’s innocent face carefully. Something wasn’t quite ringing true.
“Sounds great, Mom,” he said slowly. “But, come on, Nigeria? What’s this really about?”
Courtney grinned broadly.
“Whatever do you mean?” she asked in the breathy tone that Marco always thought of as her society voice.
Marco remained silent.
“Okay, she admitted more normally. “The researcher in charge is Dr. Bean – you know, the man whose class you haven’t been to for the past six weeks? You’re going to have to do some make-up work during the trip, but if you do then you’ll pass this semester. If you don’t, you’ll be back home and working for your dad. Let me tell you, he won’t be a very congenial employer.”
“Why would I agree to this?” Marco was incredulous.
“Think of Jacob,” his mother suggested. “It will be good for him.”
“Good point. You know, you look so sweet, but you’re really quite conniving for a mother.”
“Thank you,” Courtney grinned in satisfaction. “Burgers okay or shall we celebrate and go somewhere fancy?”
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