Authors: J.M. Hall
“No.”
“Liar.”
“Okay, Mr. Know-It-All,” she said, propping herself up on an elbow. “Enlighten me: What’s there in my life that needs revising?”
One particular case sprung to mind, but I didn’t know if I should bring it up. Yet Autumn egged me on, told me to speak whatever was on my mind. It wasn’t like her to be so aggressive, but clearly she wanted to know what I was thinking.
“Fine,” I said. “You’re meaning to tell me you never think about what could have been between you and Scott?”
She rolled her eyes and groaned. “That was your version of Happily Ever After Jesse, not mine. Sometimes I wonder if you weren’t in love with him yourself.”
“The man was crazy about you,” I said. “He shows up in the lobby of your building with a one-way ticket to San Francisco and an engagement ring, and you tell him no?”
“Exactly! I’m too young to get married, and Scott was a daydreamer. Sweet guy, sexy as hell, but he could never get his head out of the damn clouds.”
“And that’s a bad thing?”
“I don’t want to spend the rest of my life supporting my spouse. Besides, I can’t leave New York. My business is here.”
Autumn was tough, determined, settled in her ways and all too confident that she had all the answers. In some ways, I admired that. Though I didn’t agree with everything she did, I couldn’t help but admire her confidence. Maybe one day, some of it would rub off on me.
“He really did love, you.”
“I know. It was hard. I’m not denying that. But it wasn’t meant to be.”
“My turn,” Autumn said. “You and Bobby. Ever wonder what might have been? Maybe if the two of you had met just a few years later?”
“Seriously? You’re actually asking me that?”
“Did I stutter?”
Autumn had hinted at this before: the idea that deep down, the reason why I hated Bobby so much was because I was actually in love with him. That, of course, would have meant I was bisexual, something that I didn’t feel was true. Surely I’d have been attracted to another man by now -- right
“No,” I answered. “Not at all.”
“Why not?”
“He took advantage of me, that’s why. Besides, how can I even be sure that I was the only student he did this to? There could be more for all I know.
“What if you found out that you were his only one?”
“That I’m his one true love? Give me a break.”
“You’re not answering the question…”
Of course I wasn’t answering the question. It was too deep, too complicated for a quick round of pillow talk before I put on my clothes and walked out the door. How many nights had Bobby and I spent in hotel rooms just like these? He’d spared no expense, ensured that my every whim had been catered to.
We’d had sex, ordered room service, then lay in bed together where we pondered what our lives would be like. I remembered how his fingers ran through my hair, lingered over my abdomen, or how I’d wake up with his hand possessively cupping my ass. Yes, what he did was wrong, which begged the question: Why did I love him so much?
“It makes no sense,” I said.
“What doesn’t make sense?”
“Why I stayed with him for so long. Why I let him do those things to me -- and why I never felt so loved in my entire life when he did.
I got out of bed and paced across the carpeted floor. The city lights bled in through the hotel room window, casting white shadows on my naked body. Sweat glistened on my palms and I could feel my heart beating in my chest. These feelings had a decade to fester -- and now, they were finally being released.
“Out with it,” Autumn said. “It’s about damn time.”
“I loved him, okay? I fucking loved him. Even though I knew what he was doing was wrong, even though I knew that we could never really be together, I loved him.”
“Why is that so hard to admit?”
I didn’t have an answer.
“Are you worried you’re bisexual?”
I snickered. “If that’s the least of my problems, I’d consider myself lucky.”
I fell back into bed, let Autumn rub my back and shoulders. Bobby used to do the same. I’d lie on my stomach, let him do this thing, then roll over onto my back and gaze into those eyes of his, thinking I was the luckiest guy in the entire world.
“Things could have turned out differently. If Bobby and I had met a few years later, I mean. Maybe I would have stayed local for college, seen him on the weekends. Hell, gay marriage is legal in New Jersey. We could have been hitched by now.”
“I don’t think so,” Autumn said. “Because you’re overlooking one important fact. You’ve always been too ambitious for your own damn good.”
“You think so?”
“I know so. You want it all, Jesse. PR during the day, escorting at night. The beautiful apartment in Battery Park, the little book you’re writing at night…”
“It’s not a book,” I said. “It’s a journal. Think of it as therapy without the co-pays. Helps me get through the day.”
“I see.”
I took Autumn’s hand, kissed it twice, then placed it atop my chest. I loved this -- the human contact, the warmth of her body next to my own. What was it with women that got me to admit things I didn’t want to admit to myself? That was their skill, and Autumn was pretty damn good at it.
“What now?” she asked.
“Well, you got me to admit that part of me is still in love with another man. I’d say your work here is done.”
“I do what I can.”
“You are such a bitch,” I said. “But I love you anyway.”
I leapt out of bed and began to get dressed. Autumn did the same, not one bit shy about asking me to zip her up when she was ready. Another night, another black dress, another swanky hotel room. Would this be her life for the foreseeable future? Until she decided that she’d had enough, and sold her girls and clients to a competitor?
“Jesse, you’re fucking crazy. You’re melodramatic, indecisive, and you wear your heart on your sleeve.”
“Thanks, Autumn. You really know how to cheer a guy up.”
“What I mean is, you might be fucking crazy, but you also have one saving grace: You’re you. You recognize you’re out of your mind, and you keep on going anyway. Don’t lose that. Don’t lose sight of who you are.”
“Who can I lose sight of something I’m not even sure about?” I asked
“That’s the fun part. You’ll find out soon. You always do.”
She leaned in, kissed me on the lips. And with that, I walked out the door, made my way down to the street, and hailed a cab home. My train to Philadelphia left in at ten o’clock, leaving me some time to sleep and pack.
Little did I know, my entire life was about to change.
After more than a decade, I was finally home.
Well, not exactly. The streets of New Hope, Pennsylvania were one hour from the dirty, depressed streets of Philadelphia’s Tacony neighborhood. Here, in the affluent suburbs of Bucks County, children walked without fear of being mugged, and median home values approached half a million dollars, easy.
I knew I was lucky to have been accepted to the Academy, to escape Philadelphia’s cyclical poverty.
The front gates of New Hope Academy stood ten feet high, they featured a “NHA” in gold, cursive lettering at the center. I waited for them to part, for security to buzz me in as they had for plenty of other visitors throughout the day. Parents looking to pick up their children, perhaps, or even families from the area who’d come to spend time in the beautifully-decorated grounds, which were always beautiful this time of year.
I waited a few more seconds, and then, the gates opened. By the time I reached the front entrance, it was déjà vu all over again.
The door opened from the inside: It was Russell Grant, the head of the Academy’s Board of Directors. He ushered me inside, which was strange in and of itself. Surely he had an assistant to handle this?
“Sent the staff home early,” he said, seemingly reading my mind. “Holiday season and all that. We’ve been expecting you, however. Your colleague Kurt is already here.
He spoke quickly, nerves dripping off each word. He knew he was in over his head, and that without outside counsel, this so-called “affair” could ruin the Academy’s reputation for years to come. Parents wouldn’t send their children to be educated at a private school that allowed teachers to have sex with students.
From there, tuition would dry up, revenue would drop, and alumni would stop donating. They’d have to consolidate, sell or lease parts of the campus to outside organizations just to keep the lights on.
It could happen. Hell, it
did
happen. Penn State knew all too well the risks of letting a sex predator remain on-campus.
“I take it Kurt’s already told you that I’m an alumnus?” I asked him.
“Yes, of course. All the better. We need someone who understands the Academy’s true character. We’re not what the press is saying we are.”
“No, of course not.”
After a few twists and turns through the main hall, Russell and I arrived at a conference room fit for a group of kings. The rest of the board sat at the dark mahogany table, a large pitcher of water at the center. I spotted Kurt, took a seat beside him. If I was going to get through this, I needed him with me.
“Everyone, this is Kurt Victory and his associate, Jesse Lockhart. Jesse is also an alumni of the Academy. He graduated in 2004.
The rest of the board smiled and nodded. They may not be proper Philadelphians, but almost all people in the Greater Delaware Valley were very provincial. They liked dealing with their own, not some hot-shot from Manhattan who saw the Academy and its predicament as just another assignment.
Or worse, just another paycheck.
“Russell was just informing us of the work the Academy has done to date in handling the local media coverage,” Kurt explained. “Unfortunately, it seems a reporter from New York is already interested in writing a story about the Academy.”
“Who?” I asked. “Is it the
Times
? The
Journal
?”
“Worse,” Kurt said. “David Winter of
Manhattan
magazine?”
I could have punched the wall right then and there. “That doesn’t make any sense. How could he use the Academy in a story when
Manhattan
magazine covers stories about New York’s affluent set?
“Much like you, many of our alumni end up in Manhattan, one way or the other,” Russell said. “I believe it was… what was the term you used, Kurt?”
“David plans to use the Academy as part of a broader trend story involving other schools throughout the East Coast that have had similar problems.
“That’s a tenuous connection at best,” I said.
“Agreed.”
Kurt and I exchanged a quick glance. He nodded at me, his cue that it was all right for me to take the lead. As unfortunate as this recent turn of events was, I said, we had a few things working in our favor. One, we had advanced notice. That was time to do some digging, find out what exactly David planned to say about the Academy in the article. From there, we could begin strategizing how to counteract any negative mentions.
“Should there be any factual inaccuracies in the piece,” I continued, “We will reach out to the editor and demand a correction. Simple as that.”
“We’ll also prepare a statement to be released as soon as the article hits, highlighting all the facts we have thus far: that the alleged relationship is being investigated and that none of the contact between the teacher and student took place on-campus,” Kurt added.
“And then what?” Russell asked, with the rest of the board nodding their heads in agreement. “There’s still the matter of…”
“What is it?” I asked.
Russell cleared his throat before continuing. There was something on his mind, something he knew he should mention but didn’t know how to. I’d seen this before. Just because a client was facing a crisis didn’t mean they were going to be completely forthcoming.
“Now is
not
the time to be keeping anything from us.”
“We’re aware of the sensitive nature of this case. The student in question happens to be Robert’s nephew. Honest to God, you can’t make something like that up.”
“No, you can’t,” I said. “So, what is it about Robert’s nephew that has you so concerned? Has he been speaking to the press himself?”
The silence was all the answer I needed.
*
*
*
“Just let me find the little shit and talk some sense into him!”
Kurt was less enthusiastic about my plan to track down Bobby’s nephew, Drake. If he was the one leaking any chat logs or photos to the media, we had a far bigger problem on our hands. Not only was he undermining Kurt and I as we tried to keep the Academy from becoming some teacher/student bordello, but Drake could also be guilty of committing a crime himself.
“If he sent even one nude photo of himself to a friend, technically Drake is guilty of possession and distribution of child pornography. He gets charged, goes to trial with a hanging judge?”
“Don’t you think you’re being a little melodramatic?” Kurt asked.
“This is what you hired me for. It’s not just media monitoring and strategic planning. I go in the field, find the people that are pertinent to our case and convince them to work
with
us instead of against us.”
Kurt weighed my words, pondered whether I was correct in my approach. At last, he relented. I could track down Drake, talk with him briefly, but only with Bobby’s permission. Better yet, have the meeting together. Just the three of us.
“Are you serious?” I asked.
“I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t completely necessary,” Kurt said. “You go and confront Drake on your own, and he could clam up, or even go the press and say that the Academy’s PR firm is out stalking him.”
“Well, that last bit is reasonably true.”
“If he were introduced to you by his uncle, it might take some of the edge off. You wouldn’t be some stranger to him.”
“You know what Bobby did. How I feel…”
“You hate him, I know that. But--”
“No, not hate.”
Kurt paused for a moment, until he could realize what I was trying to convey. He shut his eyes, wiped his palm across his mouth. “You’re in love with him?”
I fell silent, stuffed my hands into my coat pockets. My feelings towards Bobby were pathetic. Completely and utterly pathetic. Kurt didn’t try to understand; he merely told me to keep myself as objective as possible.
“I figured this would happen eventually,” he added.
“What do you mean? That my ex-lover would find himself in hot water -- enough for us to take him on as a client?”
“No,” Kurt said. “You. I knew that, eventually, I’d finally find out something about who you are. Your past. Your present. Anything.”
“Still not following…?”
“For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve never let your guard down. Never let me or anyone else in the firm in on anything about your life outside work. I guess now it all makes sense.”
“And now you have a full view of all the skeletons in my closet,” I said. “I don’t blame if you if you want to shut the door.”
“Go on, find Bobby and talk with Drake. Work your magic. You’ve done it before. You can still do it now.”
“You think?”
“Jesse, if there’s anything I’ve learned about you these past few years, it’s that you never give up. I don’t expect you start now.”