FRIDAY 4:11PM
Jerry sat in a corner booth at McDonald’s making a few minor changes to his story. If Vanessa confronted him, he could plausibly deny it was his. He saved his work, stuffed a handful of fries into his mouth, and connected to the Wi-Fi. Once on the Internet, he inserted the USB stick that Sam gave him. He double-clicked the executable, and a page of instructions loaded. An image that looked like a beach ball appeared on his screen and started spinning faster and faster until the laptop beeped, and a pop-up message informed him that he was connected to The Underground server.
Jerry followed the prompts and created an account. He uploaded his story and was required to give it a description. He typed, “Coincidence or Bad Luck? The Shocking Details of the Recent VBU Student Deaths.” Would they use that as the title? He wondered who they were. He still wasn’t sure what Sam’s role was: editor, publisher, both?
The laptop chimed, announcing the file successfully uploaded. Jerry logged off, ate the rest of his fries, and headed back to campus. On the way to his dorm, he detoured by the library to see if they held the archives of The Whig. He mentally kicked himself for asking Sam about traveling to Dallas, but not about money for archive access. And he realized he had no way of contacting her.
As he approached the four-story brick building, Jerry felt something was amiss. No one was going in or out. He reached the library and stared at his reflection in the glass. He pressed his face to the window and squinted. The interior was dark, and he didn’t see anyone. He pulled the door: Locked. A hastily scribbled note taped to the inside announced that the library would reopen Saturday morning.
Back in his room, Jerry found Mike and one of the twin cheerleaders from Thursday afternoon hovering over the jammer, circuit boards, and various electronic parts. The girl wore a white long-sleeve top, black leggings, and blue Nikes. Safety goggles covered half her face. She held a soldering iron in her left hand.
Mike looked up. “Jerry, this is Talia Decker. I don’t think you two were introduced the other night. Talia, this is my roommate, Jerry Williams.”
Jerry nodded. “Nice to meet you.”
Talia finished soldering a USB port and slid the goggles on top of her head. “Excited about the big date with Darla?”
“I’m not sure it’s exactly a date. She helped me with an article. Taking her to dinner is my way of saying thanks.”
Talia waggled her eyebrows. “Trust me. It’s a date. Darla’s been blowing up Snapchat all afternoon.”
“Told you.” Mike smirked.
Talia looked Jerry up and down, studying him like a critic at Fashion Week. “What are you wearing tonight?”
“Not sure.” Jerry tugged at his shirt collar. “Darla did say, ‘Dress to impress.’ ”
“Let me see what you have.”
“Really?” Jerry furrowed his brow.
“Really.” Talia crossed her arms.
Jerry looked at Mike for help. Mike responded with a “can’t help you” shrug.
“Come on.” Talia spun Jerry by the shoulders and marched him into his bedroom. She rifled through his closet. “Not a lot of possibilities here.” She grabbed a few button-up shirts and slacks, tossing them on his bed. A look of confusion crossed her face as she picked up a green sports jacket. “Did you win The Masters or something?”
“A gift from my grandmother.” Jerry snatched it from her hand.
She returned to searching the closet. “Don’t you have any t—Yech!” Talia's lips twisted into a disgusted frown. She held a gold clip-on at arm’s length like a dead rat. “How did this get in here?”
“What? It’s just a tie.”
“No, it’s not.” She dumped the clip-on in the tiny trash basket beside Jerry’s desk.
“Hey!”
“Another gift from grandma?”
“I don’t remember how I got it.”
“No loss.” Talia walked up to Jerry, looped her arms around his neck, and pulled close.
Jerry was perplexed. Was she coming on to him? With Mike in the next room? He wasn’t sure what to do. He went limp, keeping his arms at his side.
“Stand up straight.”
Jerry complied. “What are you doing?”
She released him without answering. “Try on the pale-yellow shirt with the khakis.”
“Now?”
“Relax, I’ll give you some privacy. Let me see what I can do about a jacket.” She walked out of the room.
As Jerry dressed, he considered Talia holding him. She was definitely one of the hotter girls on campus, but being around her wasn’t at all like being around Darla. Easy to breathe, no commanding focus of attention. Whatever was special about Darla, it wasn’t just because she was a knockout cheerleader. He finished dressing and stepped into the living area.
Jerry looked about the room. “Where’s Talia?”
“Dunno. She was on her phone, then left. Said she’d be right back. Have you gotten around to telling Busby about your non-date?”
“No. At the time Darla asked, we were technically broken up.”
“Technically?”
“Didn’t I say this before? Buzz said we were done. She tried to take it back this morning, and I—”
“You thought you’d see how things go with Darla before you decide on getting back with Busby.”
Jerry sighed. “I wouldn’t put it exactly like that, but yeah.”
“You’re playing a dangerous game, my friend.”
“I know, and I’m torn. I’ve had great times with Buzz. She’s scary smart, but she also has this sarcastic streak. It’s quite annoying.”
“True.” Mike nodded.
“On the other hand, Darla is hot. Scorching hot.”
“Don’t have to tell me. I took her photograph.”
Jerry sighed. “But sometimes she comes off too self-absorbed.”
“Well, she is a cheerleader.”
“I’ll be sure to tell Talia you said that.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.” Jerry shrugged.
“Decide quick. Because if you don’t, worlds will collide.” Mike brought his fists together and made explosion sounds.
“That’s not helpful, but there is a favor I need from you.”
“Me?”
“Yeah, you.” Jerry pointed at Mike. “Don’t slip up and mention anything about Darla to Busby or Miranda. And don’t say anything about Busby to Talia.”
“Relax. I’ve got Talia covered.”
“What about me?” Talia walked through the door.
“I was wondering where you went.”
“To get this.” She held up a blue sports coat.
Jerry squinted at the jacket. “Where did you find that?”
“I borrowed it from Ted. You’re about his size. I also grabbed some ties.”
“Who’s Ted?” Mike narrowed his eyes.
“A guy I know who lives on the fourth floor.”
“A guy you know?”
Talia gave Mike a hard stare. “We only met yesterday, so there’s a lot you have to learn about me. One important lesson: I’m not a fan of jealousy.”
Mike, looking humbled, nodded and returned to fiddling with the jammer.
It dawned on Jerry what happened in his room. He looked at Talia. “You were measuring me.”
“You’d make one heck of a reporter. Now for the ties. We won’t mention what I found in your closet. Your secret is safe with me.” She held them one-by-one against Jerry’s chest. First, a solid black tie, then the green with gold stripes, and finally a solid burgundy tie. “This is the one. Put it on.”
He struggled with the tie, and Talia grabbed it from him.
“I’ve got this.” She flipped up his collar, knotted the tie, and pulled it tight. “Can you breathe?”
“Yep.”
“Now the jacket.”
Jerry slipped on the jacket.
“Spin around.”
Jerry spun.
“Looking sharp. I’ll be honest, I’m not being altogether altruistic. When Darla is happy, cheer practice runs much smoother. I’ve done what I can. The rest is up to you.”
“Talia, I’m thankful for all your help. Mike, what do you think?”
Mike squinted at Jerry. “I’m not even sure who you are anymore. Where’s my roommate?”
“Hilarious.” Jerry mock laughed.
Talia licked her fingers and slicked down a few stray hairs on Jerry’s head. “Where are you taking Darla?”
“Am I too well-dressed for Planet Pizza?”
“Yeah.” Talia giggled.
“Actually, I think Darla has a place picked out.”
“Sounds like her.” Talia glanced around the room. “Where are the flowers?”
“Flowers? What is this, 1955?”
Talia blew out her breath. “Darla is very traditional. We all tease her about it. But she is expecting flowers.”
“But Darla asked Jerry out,” Mike observed. “How is that very traditional?”
Talia narrowed her eyes at Jerry. “Would you have asked Darla out?”
Jerry considered the question. Even if Buzz weren’t a factor, he didn’t think he would. Darla and he seemed to be from different worlds. “I don’t think so.”
“Right. Darla knows most guys are intimidated by her looks. So she’ll ask, but she’s still old-fashioned and expecting flowers.”
“But Darla didn’t mention that.”
“Of course not. Get yellow roses. They’re her favorite.”
Jerry sighed. “Where am I going to get flowers?”
“There’s a florist on Montcalm across the corner from the bank.”
“Probably less expensive at the supermarket.” Mike shrugged.
“Do not cheap out on Darla.” Talia wagged her finger at Jerry.
Jerry nodded. “Is there anything else I need to know?”
“You’ll do great. Be charming. And chivalrous. And funny. And relaxed. And don’t try too hard. And for—”
Mike cleared his throat. “If you’re done with Jerry’s makeover, can we get back to our million-dollar idea?”
She slid her goggles back into place and picked up the soldering iron. “Why settle for millions? I want billions.”
* * *
Jerry walked down the second-floor hallway of Darla’s dorm, a dozen yellow roses in hand. The flowers set him back $65, plus tax, and he worried about having enough money to cover the evening. Darla asked him out, but she didn’t seem like the type who would pick up the check or go Dutch. Depending on how expensive the restaurant was, he might have to use the emergency credit card his father entrusted him with. Jerry took minor pride that he made it through the third month of his sophomore year without resorting to using it.
He stopped outside room 214 and paused, hoping to quiet the butterflies in his stomach. With the flowers in his left hand, he took a deep breath and knocked with his right.
A tall, thin, barefoot brunette wearing a gray VBU Women’s Golf Team T-shirt and navy shorts opened the door.
“Flowers? For me?” She grinned and grabbed the bouquet from Jerry before he could object. Holding the flowers to her nose, she inhaled audibly. “Thanks, these are awesome.”
Did he get the number wrong? “Is this Darla Jaggard’s room?”
The brunette laughed. “I’m just having fun with you. Jerry, right? I’m her roommate, Lucy Davenport. D’s getting ready. Come in.”
Darla and Lucy’s dorm looked nothing like Busby and Miranda’s. The latter was a mishmash of Wayfair clearance sales and third-hand items from Craigslist. But the room Jerry stepped into looked like it belonged in the pages of Town & Country. The sofa and chairs matched. The tables were made from a dark wood. Expensive-looking bookshelves filled with reading material and knickknacks lined one wall. A mammoth high-def screen was mounted on a second wall. A pair of neatly organized work desks were placed against another wall with a framed poster of Nelly Korda hanging between them. A couple of maroon throw rugs covered part of the living room floor.
“Where are you going for dinner?” Lucy set the flowers down.
Jerry shrugged. “I think Darla’s picking it out.”
“Sounds like her. Did she tell you yellow roses are her favorite?”
He held his hand to the side of his mouth, imitating a conspiratorial whisper. “No, but I had inside information.”
“You’re on the paper, right? D said you’re writing an article about her. Ever think about profiling the women’s golf team?” Lucy pantomimed swinging a club. “We’ve got a chance to win the conference this year.”
Jerry didn’t want to get into all the complications with The Chronicle where he never covered sports, and he wasn’t sure if he still worked there, so he lied. “I’ll see what I can do.” Maybe it wasn’t a lie. Sam said he could write whatever he wanted. Would Darla appreciate it if he did a story on her roommate?
“Lucy, have you seen my white clutch?” Darla appeared at the hallway entrance to the living room. She wore a sleeveless turquoise dress, cinched with a silver belt, that ended above her knees, paired with sparkly, strappy high heels. Her honey-blonde hair was piled high with wispy strands curling down to her ears. Emerald stud earrings magnified the green in her eyes, and a silver necklace hung around her neck.
Jerry’s chest tightened. Once again, he felt like all the air was being sucked from the room. His jaw dropped open. He hoped it wasn’t too noticeable. “Darla, you look spectacular.”
She half-turned one way, then the other. “Thanks, Jerry. I was sure you would approve. Also, I’m happy to see my training is working.”
“Training?” Lucy arched an eyebrow.
Jerry’s face burned a little red.
“Yeah, I’ve been drilling Jerry on compliments.” Darla walked over and ran a finger along the lapel of his jacket. “And you’re looking crisp yourself.” Her scent engulfed him. She smelled like the florist’s shop he had come from.
“D, Jerry brought these for me.” Lucy pointed to the flowers. “But I’d feel better if you take them.”
“Yellow roses!” Darla’s eyes grew wide. “Someone’s been doing his homework.” She kissed Jerry on the cheek, grabbed the flowers, and disappeared into the kitchen.
Lucy winked at Jerry, giving him a thumbs up.
Darla returned a moment later with a clear vase full of the flowers, set it on the coffee table, and inhaled. “Perfect. Now all I need is my clutch.”
“On your desk.” Lucy pointed.
Darla grabbed the white purse. “I think that’s everything. Don’t wait up for us!” She looped her arm through Jerry’s and guided him to the door.
Lucy saluted. “No worries about me. I planned an exciting evening at the range, hitting bucket after bucket, until I perfect my drop fade.”
* * *
“That’s my car.” Jerry pointed across the lot at a black-and-white Ford Crown Victoria. The gas cap door hung askew, and Jerry kicked himself for not having fixed it. He hoped Darla wouldn’t notice.
She looked it over. “Kind of like an old police car.”
“It is. I picked it up at auction. Two hundred bucks. The cops beat the hell out of it, but the engine and transmission were solid. I replaced all the belts, hoses, and shocks.”
“Fixed it yourself? I like a boy who’s handy.” Darla grinned and pressed her shoulder to his.
Jerry’s heart quickened. Why was he trying to kid himself? This was a date. And starting out perfectly.
As they approached the car, Talia’s words echoed in Jerry’s head: Darla is very traditional. He led her to the passenger side and opened the door.
“I like a boy with manners.” Darla arched an eyebrow as she slid into her seat.
Jerry hustled over to his side, got in, and started the engine. “Where are we going for dinner?”
“Cascata. It’s a new Italian place that I’ve been dying to try out. Head into Old Stuyvesant and take a left on Burgoyne.”
“Got it.”
Darla pointed at the dashboard. “That’s not a cop radio.”
“No, they took that out, and I installed this one and the speakers.”
She powered it on, and the gravelly voice of George Thorogood blasted from the speakers. “95.3. Classic rock, huh?”
“Some of it is interesting.” Was his choice in music a problem?
“Let’s see what else we have here.” Darla cycled through the presets. “NPR. Top Forty. Sports Radio. Best of the sixties, seventies, and eighties.” She killed the volume. “You can tell a lot about a boy based on his car radio.”
“Really? What does mine say about me?”
Darla pursed her lips, like she was in deep thought. “I think your love of classic rock comes from road-trip family vacations where your parents played their favorite music.” She looked at Jerry. “How’d I do?”
Jerry was stunned. She nailed it. And apparently, the music wasn’t a problem. “You are remarkably perceptive.”
“Yes, I am.” Darla smiled smugly.
“What about the rest of the stations?”
“NPR: you’re open-minded and intelligent. Sports talk?” She frowned. “I’ll let that one slide. Top Forty—slow down, you’re going to miss our turn.”
Jerry braked, signaled, and turned left.
“Now turn right at the next light, and Cascata will be three blocks further down.”
Jerry followed her directions. Outside the restaurant, a valet station was set up. “I bet I can find a spot a couple of streets over.”
“Uh, uh. I’m not walking all over town in these heels. Use the valet.”
Jerry was already out the money for the flowers. Now there was the valet, plus a tip, and from the outside, Cascata looked expensive. He glanced at Darla, and she looked so damned amazing. This was certainly an emergency worthy of using the credit card, but he wasn’t sure how to explain that to his dad.
“Okay.” Jerry pulled in front of the restaurant. He handed the valet the key, twenty to park, and a five-dollar tip. He escorted Darla inside to the hostess station.
The hostess, Jennifer by her name badge, greeted them with a smile and a nod. “How may I help you?”
“Jaggard. We have an eight-thirty reservation.”
Jennifer grabbed two menus. “Please follow me.”
Jerry was a third of the way across the dining room when he froze in horror. Busby! She was walking toward him with an older man and a woman. Had to be her parents. The three of them headed for the exit and would pass right by him.
“Uh, Darla, I’ll be right back. I left my wallet in the car.”
“Jerry?” She turned, but he was gone.
Jerry hurried back to the hostess station, but there was no place to hide. No potted plants or cloakroom. He rushed to the street, glancing in every direction, looking for cover. He ran to his left and hid in the shadows of the recessed doorway of a closed barbershop.
Jerry peeked around the corner. Busby and her parents exited the restaurant. If they walked in his direction, there’d be no way they could miss him.
Busby’s father approached the valet station, and Jerry breathed a sigh of relief. But he needed them to get their car and leave quickly. Who knew how Darla was handling his disappearance? The valet jogged off while the three stood on the sidewalk, chatting. Busby pulled out her phone and started tapping.
“C’mon, hurry up,” Jerry whispered to himself. His phone buzzed. He pulled it out. Busby! He powered down the phone and shoved it in his pocket.
A black Lincoln Navigator arrived. The valet hopped out, and Busby and her parents got in. Jerry relaxed and stepped out of the doorway.
“Excuse me, sir?”
Jerry turned to the voice and saw a man in the khaki uniform of the Stuyvesant County Sheriff’s Department.
The cop aimed a flashlight in Jerry’s face. “Why are you hiding there, sir?
“Please, officer, it’s my ex-girlfriend.” Jerry pointed at the car as it sped away. “It ended badly. I didn’t want to upset her or her parents. I was waiting for them to leave.”
“It’s deputy. And let’s see some ID.”
Jerry fished out his wallet and produced his driver’s license.
The deputy illuminated the license with the flashlight. “New Jersey?”
Jerry handed over his student ID. “I’m a sophomore at Van Buren.”
The deputy looked over the card and compared it to Jerry.
Jerry shifted his weight back and forth.
The deputy flashed the light in Jerry’s face. “You in a bit of a hurry?”
“My date is inside waiting for me.”
“Ex-girlfriend and a date?” The deputy smiled and handed back the ID and license. “Okay, you can go.”
Jerry rushed inside. He scanned the dining room, spotted Darla at a table along the far wall, and threaded his way over to her.
Jerry made a theatrical display of holding up his wallet. “Sorry about that.” He took his seat.
“I thought you bailed on me. But then I realized that couldn’t be. Because no one would ever bail on me.” Darla smiled and seemed to relax. “I didn’t order any wine. I have ID, but I wasn’t sure about you. So, I got us sparkling water and a calamari appetizer.”
He wasn’t sure what calamari was, but wanted no more disruptions, so he lied. “Sounds good.”
Jerry looked over the menu. No wine was helpful, but the prices of the entrees left no doubt that he’d be using the credit card. He’d have to remember and call his dad. He didn’t want the charge to come as a surprise. In the end, he ordered the veal parmigiana while Darla went with the pollo marsala.
“Jerry, I have a little something for you.”
“Really? What?”
“It’s a surprise. Hold out your hand.”
Jerry stretched his right arm across the table and held his palm up.
“And close your eyes.”
He hesitated for a moment.
Darla flashed a smile. “Come on, close your eyes.”
Jerry complied.
“Now stick out your tongue.”
“Darla!”
“Okay. Good enough.”
Something soft dropped into Jerry’s hand.
He opened his eyes. A small furry orange object rested in his hand. “What’s this?”
“It’s a rabbit’s foot. You know, for luck.”
“It wasn’t lucky for the rabbit.”
“Har, har! Seriously, with what you uncovered about bad luck and students dying, I thought we could use a little protection.”
“We?”
“Uh, huh.” Darla pulled a mint green rabbit’s foot from her purse. “Promise me you’ll keep it with you at all times.”
“I promise.” The foot had a metal ring attached, and he hooked it to his keys. “Where did you find this?”
“Five Below. Good luck was never so affordable.”
Jerry gazed at the foot one more time. He didn’t believe it could really provide good luck. But Darla seemed enthusiastic, and it was a sweet gesture. “Thanks, Darla.” He rubbed the foot for show, then shoved it in his pocket.
“You are quite welcome.” Darla placed her elbows on the table and her hands under her chin. “So, tell me all about Jerry Williams.”
“I’m from a little town in South Jersey called Mullica Hill. My dad’s the editor of the Gloucester County Times. In high school, he hired me as a stringer, covering local government meetings, sporting events, parades, and such. I loved it so much I followed in his footsteps. So, here I am majoring in journalism and writing for the school paper.”
“Ambitious, I like that. Any brothers or sisters?”
“One brother, Brian. He’s older. Working on his PhD in Chemistry at the University of Washington.”
“Chemistry? That’s a coincidence. I’m majoring in chemical engineering.”
“Really?”
Darla narrowed her eyes at Jerry. “Is that such a surprise? You think cheerleaders are all airheads who can’t handle a challenging major?” She pointed an accusatory finger.
“What? I mean, of course not, you can do—”
“Because I’m getting sick and tired of everyone treating me like a life-sized Barbie doll.” She tilted her head and, in a high-pitched voice, mimicked, “Math is hard.”
“Please, Darla, I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Darla balled up her napkin and tossed it on her bread plate. “I think you should take me back to the dorm.” She stood, hands on her hips, her green eyes staring right through him.
Jerry’s stomach was in knots. The world was crashing all around him. He tried to stand, but his knees buckled.
“Got you!” She flashed a wide grin and plopped back down. “I should have taken a pic of the look on your face.” She giggled and sipped her water.
“Oh.” Jerry was confused, then a wave of relief flowed over him. “That was a bit?”
Darla nodded. “Keep on your toes around me.”
Jerry forced a smile. Maybe Darla was more than he could handle. Busby would never pull a stunt like that. “So you are, or aren’t, majoring in chemical engineering?”
“An exothermic reaction releases heat, while endothermic one absorbs it. The job market looks promising. There’s always a shortage of qualified employees, so wages are rising.” She frowned for a moment. “The same can’t be said for journalism.”
“I know. My dad tried to warn me off, but I think I’ve got it in my blood. I’m thinking the chemical engineering bit will be a good hook for your story. Cheerleader smashes stereotype.”
The waitress delivered the calamari along with an assortment of sauces.
Darla dipped a piece in tartar sauce. “This is delish.”
“I’ll confess that I’m not familiar with calamari. Is it onion rings?”
Darla laughed. “It’s squid, silly.”
“Squid?” He stared at Darla’s face, trying to read her expression. “Are you joking with me again?”
“Nope, it’s really squid. Have some.”
Jerry was cautious. He smothered his in marinara and popped it in his mouth. “Hey, this is pretty good.”
“Told you.”
When the main course arrived, Jerry reached for his knife, but Darla grabbed both of his hands. Before he could react, she closed her eyes, lowered her head, and spoke, “Bless us, O Lord, and these thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty, through Christ, Our Lord. Amen.”
Jerry recovered from his shock in time to simultaneously say Amen.
Darla opened her eyes and released his hands. She observed Jerry’s puzzled look. “Yeah, it’s always weird when to say grace in a restaurant: when they bring out the bread, or the appetizers, or the main course.” She shrugged. “But I figure as long as we let God know we’re thankful, it doesn’t really matter when we say it.”
“Good point.” Jerry was relieved that she misinterpreted his expression. He turned the conversation on Darla. “What about your family?”
“My dad runs a hedge fund, which he’s super good at. My mom stayed at home to raise us four kids. Corey is the oldest. The Brewers drafted him in the third round. Shortstop. He hasn’t made it to the majors yet. He’s going to play Mexican ball this winter. Terry is gorgeous. He’s a model in Los Angeles and trying to break into acting. He was on one of the NCISs. Can’t remember which, but he didn’t have any lines. He played a corpse.”
Jerry chuckled. “I never heard a guy called gorgeous before.”
“Trust me. He’s got Mom’s cheekbones and skin to die for.”
“And your sister?”
“Ashlee.” Darla rolled her eyes. “Such a teenager.”
For dessert, Darla suggested they split a cannoli, which they enjoyed with coffee.
Jerry offered to let Darla have the last bite of the pastry, but she shook her head.
“Darla, this was an outstanding meal. Thanks for picking this place. The only Italian my mom ever made was spaghetti and meatballs.”
“What’s your mom do?”
Jerry was quiet for a moment. “She was a bookkeeper. She died. Cancer.”
“Je suis désoleé.” Her green eyes filled with empathy, she reached across the table, entwining her fingers with his as if to try and absorb some of his pain.
“It’s been a few years. Didn’t mean to sabotage the mood.”
“Nonsense.” Darla continued to hold his hand. “I’m having a wonderful time.”
When the bill came, Jerry almost choked at the total. He added a 25% tip. He delivered pizzas one summer and worked hard for those tips and never forgot to return the favor.
When they stood to leave, Darla pointed around the room. “We’re the hottest couple in this place. We didn’t get a chance to show off when we arrived, but we’re going to let everyone know. Let’s work our way across the dining room in a big circle giving them all a chance to gawk, okay?”
Jerry was almost certain the evening was going well, but the idea that Darla wanted people to see them together cinched it. He looped his arm around her waist, and they began their march around the room.
* * *
In the far corner of the Cascata dining room, Miranda’s phone buzzed. She picked it up and frowned.
Dmitri set down his wine. “What is wrong?”
“Fitzgerald wants a paper on Dumas. Says he’s willing to pay double.” She groaned. “I’ve made it clear to these knobheads that I only do English Literature.”
“But there is nothing my smart and sexy girl can’t do.”
“Yeah, but I don’t want to make it a habit. I start doing French and the next thing I know; they’ll be asking for Garcia Marquez or Tolstoy.” She made a face and pinched her nose.
“Demand they pay more.”
“I could do that. It would be awesome if we could afford to go to St. Bart’s for winter break. I’ll offer to do it for triple.” She tapped on her phone, looked up, and frowned again.
“Tolstoy?”
“No. Jerry is here.”
Dmitri turned to see the couple walking across the room. “That girl he is with is not Busby.”
“I know.” Miranda held up her phone, switched to burst mode, and focused on the couple. “And I’ve never seen him so dressed up before.”
Darla maneuvered Jerry around a busboy clearing a table. For a moment, their faces turned toward Miranda.
She snapped the photo and checked the results. “Gotcha!”
* * *
Jerry pulled his car over to the curb outside Darla’s dorm.
“Walk me to my room.” Darla’s tone was more command than question.
Jerry rushed around to open her door. Darla emerged from the car, holding her shoes in one hand. She walked across the grass, cool on her bare feet. She held Jerry’s hand while he pointed out constellations in the sky.
Darla let her head rest against his shoulder for a moment. Jerry had proved to be an almost perfect date. He was a smart, funny, ambitious boy. And cute too.
They rode the elevator to the second floor and walked down the hallway to 214. Darla paused in front of the door, let his hand go, and turned to face him.
“Jerry, I had a wonderful evening. I was a little worried when you disappeared, but that was just a little bump in the road on the way to a perfect evening.”
“No reason it has to end now.” He leaned in to kiss her.
“Actually, it does.” She put a hand on his chest, stopping him. “I do want to see you again. But even though they cancelled classes, I have a ton of homework. Plus, I need to get up early and workout, and there’s an extra cheer practice for the game tomorrow. With all that going on, I’m afraid I can’t invite you in. I need sleep.” The big test. How would he react?
“Okay.” His tone told her this wasn’t the ending of the evening he was hoping for. And Darla could see the disappointment on his face. “You look like a lost puppy.” She dropped her shoes, looped her arms around him, pulled close. As her nails caressed the back of his neck, she kissed him solidly on the lips.
He slipped his arms around her and squeezed tight.
When her breath grew short, she broke the embrace. “Better?”
“Much. Maybe I could come in after all?”
“Were you even listening to me?” She bopped him on the nose. “Why don’t you come to the game tomorrow? Mike’s going to be taking photos of us.”
“He is?”
“Yeah, he got a credential from our coach. I don’t know if you can get down on the sidelines where he’ll be. But you can watch me from the stands.”
“I have a pass too, so I’ll be able to get down to the field.”
“Really? Great.” She kissed him one last time. “Text me when you get home, so I know you’re okay.”
She grabbed her shoes, stepped inside, winked, then shut the door.
Lucy lay on the couch under a blanket, watching TV, cup of hot cocoa in her hand.
Darla dropped the clutch on her desk. “You look comfy.”
Lucy sat up and paused the show. “Binging Rizzoli & Isles. You need me to clear out?”
Darla returned to the door, pressed her eye to the peephole, and watched Jerry. He sported a huge grin. Excited, eager, not angry. Perfect. “You’re good, Lucy. We’re done for the night. You know my motto: Always leave boys wanting more.”