The Dark Proposal (The Claire McCormick Trilogy) (4 page)

Claire was still browsing online when a door behind her opened, followed by a noisy yawn.

“Good morning,” Samantha mumbled.

“Good afternoon,” Claire corrected.

“Oh, yeah. Right.” She rubbed her eyes. She was wearing her bathrobe over her nightshirt. Samantha had clearly a long night bartending at the nearby sports bar.

“Where’s Monica?” Samantha opened the refrigerator.

“She’s food shopping. It’s her turn this week.”

“Ah.” Samantha was about to pour herself some juice, then stopped.“Hey, how did last night go for you? With that guy?” She plopped down on the couch.

“Better than I expected. He wants to take me out to dinner next week!”

“Oooh! Awesome!” she clapped in her girlish manner. “Did he kiss you good-bye? Was it good?”

“Uh, no. He didn’t,” Claire suddenly realized.

“He didn’t,” echoed Samantha. “Okay. Maybe he’s taking it slowly, nothing wrong with that. He’ll probably give you one next time.”

“I hope so.”

“So tell me! What did you two talk about?”

Claire described their long conversations, how the professor hung on her every word, and had so much to say about deep topics. “He’s really intelligent. That’s so hot.”

“Hell yeah! Who wants someone shallow? So, where is he taking you?”

Claire shook her head. “I don’t know. He said he’ll let me know in a couple of days. All I know is the date is next Friday.”

“Okay, Friday? You better get over to the mall and spend a few. A dinner in the city means getting all dressed up.”

“But I barely have any money!”

“Then Monica and I will loan you something. Really, you can’t look poor on this date, not when its in the city.”

Claire smiled and then told Samantha about the contacts Daniel gave her and how she will contact those editors later in the weekend. This way by Monday morning, her emails would be among the first the editors would see. Her roommate again squealed and gave her a tight hug. Ever since the two met in their freshmen year, Samantha had always been one to give the best of hugs, during good times or bad.

Late Sunday night, Claire sent six separate emails to the editors. Each message had links to her articles, specific to each outlet; her art articles went to the art magazines and her social issues went to the magazines or newspapers that focused on those topics. She made a mental note to call the editors the next afternoon to make sure they got her messages.

The next day, late in the morning, she was typing up a cover letter for a freelancing job at a Brooklyn blog when she heard her email chime. When she checked the new message, she saw it was from one of the magazines that specialized in New York lifestyle. They had liked her two articles related to their content and also her pitch about speed dating in a bad economy. The editor wanted to meet with her this week to get to know her more.

Ecstatic, Claire grabbed Monica, who was sitting alongside her at the kitchen table. At first she was annoyed that Claire interrupted her essay writing, but when Monica saw the editor’s email, they both started screaming happily. That’s when Samantha came rushing out of the bedroom she shared with Monica, where she had been gathering laundry. When Claire showed her the laptop screen, she also got into the excitement.

Later that same day, another editor – this time from a well known arts and culture magazine – accepted one of her pitches about an original theater production in Brooklyn. Her friends decided to splurge and treat her to their favorite Japanese restaurant to celebrate that night.

Before they left, she sent Daniel an email about the great news and how grateful she was for his help. “I think you’ve changed my life for the better!” Claire wrote. After she hit the
Send
button, she wondered if she had made a huge mistake putting that part in. Maybe that would scare him off.

As the three of them rode the bus down to their celebratory dinner, she saw his response on her phone:

No problem. I am delighted to hear this news

Best of luck.

P.S.. I reserved a spot for us at Les Lumières in SoHo Friday 8 PM

Claire didn’t know if her day – or life – could get any better.

Claire told all this to Nancy as she worked the afternoon shift at the college the next day. She was still flying and excited to meet the magazine editor Wednesday, and dining with Daniel at the fancy French restaurant at the end of the week.

But as she gushed over the new direction her life was taking, Nancy was not impressed. She reminded her about Daniel’s reputation as an arrogant, difficult person. “It’s the second week of the semester and already he has lost seven students in one of his 101 classes. They say he was impossible to deal with.”

That made Claire pause. “Well, I should go meet him anyway. He is helping me.”

Nancy slightly raised her eyebrows. “Just be careful, dear.”

Friday evening could not have been more lovelier. The sky was clear, the breeze was neither too cool or too warm, and Claire couldn’t shake off her elation. She had so much to tell Daniel, and so much to thank him for.

She arrived in SoHo about ten minutes before eight. Coming to street level, she tried to inhale the New York City air, but she had trouble doing that because the nerves in her stomach were tingling from nervousness. Here she was on a date with a man whom she owed so much to and he was giving her a taste of the New York lifestyle. What did she do to deserve so much luck?

Claire noted the aqua colored polyester top she borrowed from Monica, her black pants, and her hair resting comfortably on her shoulders instead of in a ponytail, and mentally gave herself points for looking sophisticated. She would definitely fit in at this upscale nightspot.

She walked a few blocks before finding Les Lumières. There were a few people – mostly couples – gathered in front of the restaurant, hanging around after a delicious meal and enjoying each other’s company. The tingles in her fired up again. Perhaps Daniel and her would be just like them shortly?

As she squeezed through the crowd, she saw him. He was leaning against the small wooden divider surrounding the outside dining area. He wore a pale gray button down shirt, the top two buttons undone, black slacks and black shoes. His hands were in his pockets, and his left leg was crossed over his right, as if guarding himself against any other woman approaching him. His facial expression looked calm and laid back. She felt her inner fires burn up more.

He saw her standing a few feet before him, stood up straighter and uncrossed his leg. His face lightened up a little, but only a little.

“Claire,” he said.

“Hi, Daniel,” she said. “Nice to see you.”

“Same here,” he gave a slight nod. Glancing indoors, he said, “I tried to get an outdoors seat but other people had the same idea, so we’re going to eat inside. Is that okay with you?”

“Oh no, its not a problem! I wouldn’t mind.”

“K.” He made an after-you gesture, and she walked inside. Les Lumières was buzzing with many other patrons and staff carrying large trays of French cuisine. Claire had never eaten French food before, so she really wanted to impress Daniel by liking it.

The maitre d’ escorted them to a table towards the back. It was against a wall, so it gave a semblance of privacy. They slid into their seats and began looking over the menu. As she searched for something that wasn’t too exotic, she glanced up at him. He looked lost in thought, as though something serious was on his mind.

She chose her dish and drink for the night, put down her menu, and looked around. At their location in the restaurant, the lights were low and there were candles lit in the middle of each table. It was definitely a romantic setting. She felt tingles thinking that Daniel found her worthy to take her here. But why was he being so quiet?

Finally, he closed shut his menu and took a sip of his water. She decided to be gutsy.

“Penny for your thoughts,” she said in a flirtatious tone so he wouldn’t be more upset.

One corner of Daniel’s mouth went up, but he didn’t look at her. “They’re not worth much,” he said in a low voice. He sipped his water again. “It’s been a tough week, I’m afraid. I apologize if I seem a little off right now.”

“It’s okay. We all have them.”

Sitting back, he put his curled fingers to his lips, indicating he was deep in thought. After a minute, he suddenly looked at her and said, “How long you’ve been working for Laura Matthews?”

“For two years, since I was a junior. I started there to help pay for my tuition.”

“Uh-huh.” Pause again. “Has she ever been difficult with you?”

“She is tough, hard to please.” Claire was beginning to feel uncomfortable over discussing their boss like this. Was he looking to use her as a spy in the office?

“Yes, I’ve noticed,” Daniel sat up straighter. “Maybe I have been expecting too much, but I was hoping to be put on the list for a higher level course for the spring semester. But that didn’t happen.”

Claire nodded, listening to him carefully.

“That, as you can guess, did not please me. Laura told me it had to do with me only working nights,and not during the day. But there are other adjuncts who could only do night courses. So why am I not given the same chance?”

“Well, I think those other professors have more experience,” she spoke as diplomatically as possible.

“But I have taught before. During and right after I got my PhD, I was teaching English at the public colleges here in Manhattan.”

“Really?”

“Yes. But those colleges were not even giving me the 101 classes. They instead gave me the remedial courses where I was teaching writing to those who couldn’t put together a sentence for the life of them. It got so frustrating that I came to Richmond, where such courses don’t exist. I was also told I would get a 200 level course eventually. But no, I have yet to get one.”

“It’s nepotism. Like you told me with freelancing, it depends on who you know and you shouldn’t complain because that’s life.” Claire felt nervous after those words left her mouth. Guaranteed Daniel would be even more upset.

But he instead nodded slowly, still deep in thought. As he stayed silent for another minute, she quickly thought of something to say.

“Did you know Colin Willis at all?” She was a little surprised she said that, given the sadness that still hovered over the English department. But it was still worth bringing up.

He nodded, and blinked a few times to remove the faraway look in his eyes. He cleared his throat and straightened up. “I met him a few times. He was a good man, very friendly. Unbelievable what happened to him.”

Claire gestured her sadness. “Yeah, he was my favorite professor. It was he who encouraged me to be a writer. Before, I wasn’t so sure what I wanted to major in. But when I took one of his classes, I was so inspired by him that I decided to major in English
 
and be a freelancer once I graduated.”

Daniel smiled faintly. “Its nice to hear a student, or former student at least, be inspired to write. I try to do the same with my students, but to no avail. However, it is hard to teach those who are only looking to fulfill a requirement. Would someone interested in computer science care about the beauty of writing? No, math and computers are their fields. Same with the nursing and biology students. That is why they couldn’t care less about being great writers. They simply care about passing the class and moving on to what they really like.”

It made sense to her because even she noticed it with the students coming into the department’s office. English was to them what a mandatory math course was to her. “I like what you say about writing. You are so passionate about it.”

He smiled. “I’ve spent my whole life writing. I can’t imagine doing anything else. Some people say I was born with a pen in my hand.”

Claire laughed. “Same here. But few people understand that.”

Daniel just looked at her. She could see the tension in his face was going away and was being replaced by contentment, as if he enjoyed her company.

“So, I got your emails telling me about how your week went. Tell me everything.”

She gushed to Daniel about the two editors who accepted her pitches, and how meeting with one of them went. She did her best to tone down her excitement because she didn’t want to seem too immature for him. He was older than her, after all.

When the waiter finally came by, Daniel switched gears and spoke to him in French. The waiter, who was French, seemed taken aback by Daniel’s good command of the language and chatted with him. Claire sat there, amazed by her luck to be on a date with such a cultured person. But she felt a little left out too.

“Hey,
parlez vous anglais
?” she said in a heavy American accent.

The two looked at her and laughed gently together. She gave her order and the waiter took their menus and left.

“I’m sorry, Claire,” Daniel said. “I just enjoy speaking in another language. It opens many doors to other worlds.”
 

“Is that all you speak? Just English and French?”

“A little bit of Spanish and Italian. I can read some German as well.”

“That reminds me, where do you come from?” she sat forward. “Your website says you went for your undergraduate and masters in England, but are you American born and raised?”

“Yes, I’m actually originally from Upper West Side. I was born and raised there.”

“No way! Do you still have family here?”

“No. My father died when I was twelve, and my mother died a few years back. I was an only child.”

“What about Australia? Why do you go there?”

“Like I said, I have family and friends there. A few cousins and former classmates. I go to Sydney to see them every summer.”

From there, Claire and Daniel spent time getting to know each other on a personal level. While last week they had discussed their viewpoints of the world, they now talked about their worlds. She told him about her two roommates, how they met and how they struggle to make ends meet. She also told him about her family, growing up in a small New Jersey town, and why she never wanted to go back to such a quiet place. He told her mostly about going to school in England and studying for a semester in Paris. He also talked about his friends that live in New York, particularly a couple who live a few blocks from him in TriBeCa, and a trio who live in Brooklyn. “They’re typical starving artists,” he explained with a laugh. “They work odd jobs by day, and by night they either paint, do pottery or do their rock band. But they’re good people; they’re fun to be with.”