9. Emerson #2
I cock my head at him. “Bryce, I appreciate your help, but I think this is just not the right milieu for you to advise upon.”
“Emerson, I know my milieus. Do you?” He arches an eyebrow my way, thinking he made a point when his sentence doesn’t make any sense at all.
“You have to start strong. I don’t care if you’re talking about Mozart or vibrators.
It starts with that entrance. You have to say who you are, what you want, and why you’re there.
Like, ‘Hi, I’m Bryce. I’m auditioning for the role of Fieryo.
Super excited to be here and jump in.’ And when I do my audition—those first steps?
I am perfect . I’m amazing. And even if the middle gets a little wonky, I always end strong. ”
“The start of my lecture has to be the most compelling part,” I say, nodding along, letting the wheels turn.
“Find a way to connect it to the present day. These kids might all be smarties, but they’re also into dumb shit, like all college kids are.
So, I don’t know, show them a TikTok video.
Show them a picture of Billie Eilish. Teach them a viral dance.
Make it engaging. And then you go into your boring music stuff. ”
“Thank you,” I say, cocking an eyebrow. I happen to find the history of Western music highly stimulating, but admitting that will only elicit a sassy retort from my roommate.
“As I was saying, you go into your boring music stuff—blah, blah, blah—and then you end with bringing it back to that first part. Or another fun connection to the present day. Or maybe showing how Chopin connects to a present-day artist who may or may not be Miss Carly Rae Jepsen.”
“No more Carly Rae Jepsen.” My face flashes red at the embarrassing part of class today. I don’t tell Bryce what happened because I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing I listened to her music of my own volition.
“You need to catch people in the first few seconds, or else you’re done.
I remember there was one time I auditioned, and it took me a while to get into the steps.
But, man, by the end, I really got into it.
Still didn’t get it—because my beginning was lackluster.
Beginnings and endings. They don’t remember middles. ”
“Fair.” I brace myself with another gulp of beer. “Okay. What’s tip number three?”
“Know what questions they’re going to ask in advance and have answers prepared.”
“Easier said than done.”
“Not necessarily,” Bryce says. “People aren’t as smart as we think.
Most questions you can probably anticipate, especially since you’ve been doing this for a while.
I know for me, when I go into an audition, there’s always gonna be questions about my ‘size.’” He makes air quotes and sighs.
“But we all really know what that means. They want to know if I’m physically able to do this.
” He understandably rolls his eyes. “There’s gonna be questions about what resonated with the material.
There’s gonna be questions about my availability.
So rather than stammering and stuttering through those answers, I can fire off quick responses that keep the momentum from my hot entrance going.
It makes me look like I know what the F I’m doing. ”
“Huh.” I didn’t expect such insight from Bryce, but as I focus on his plump lips, I find I could listen to him all night long.
“What will people remember? They’ll remember an answer you give to their question versus you yammering on from a lecture. Does that make sense?”
Sheena has always tried to help me, but I think she’s too close to the situation. Nobody’s ever explained it to me like Bryce. He’s blinking at me, waiting for me to answer, and I realize I’m staring.
“It does, actually. Total sense.” I laugh to myself. “These are actually really good tips. I was not expecting this at all. The wheels are turning. I’m coming up with new ideas. All right.” I take a drink of my beer. “So, what’s the fourth and final tip?”
“Dress slutty,” Bryce says.
I almost spit out my beer. “Funny. Okay, no, what is it? For real.”
“I’m dead serious. Dress slutty. Not slutty slutty. Just slutty , you know.”
“No. I don’t know. Grammatically, that sentence makes no sense at all.”
“We are visual creatures. And the fact of the matter is, people pay more attention if you dress hot. They’ll be more engaged in class. They’ll write nicer reviews for you if they want to fuck you.”
“That is so reductive, Bryce.” I stand and place a hand on my hip. “These people are some of the sharpest minds in our education system. I doubt they care what I wear to class.”
“They care,” Bryce says. “Even at the best universities in the world, there are people hooking up and having crazy sex. Trust me. Now, I’m not saying you have to wear a tube top and a mini skirt—although that’d be really funny to see—but your outfit right now?
It’s giving professor, but it’s not giving professor . ”
“Again, these sentences don’t make sense, Bryce.”
“I think your clothes can be a little more tailored.” He reaches for my glasses, adjusting them on my face. “The glasses are hella sexy. And you have a good body.”
He walks around me, checking me out, and I flash back to our first meeting. I know exactly how he feels about my body, and it gets me a little warm inside remembering all the things he said.
“You know, if we get your jacket a little tailored, get the pants a little tailored, tuck in your shirt, trim your beard and fix those eyebrows—you will be a very sexy professor. People always show up for sexy professors.”
I look at myself in the mirror on the far wall.
I think I look perfectly fine. I’m not here to be in a fashion show. But perhaps Bryce has a point, and now I can’t stop looking at my beard. And eyebrows. Are they really that bad? Are my clothes really that baggy?
Bryce claps his hands. “Oh, this is gonna be great. You’re gonna get your tenure position. We’re gonna have a makeover montage. These students aren’t going to know what hit them.”
“I hope so,” I say, feeling more positive than I have since I started. “Thank you, Bryce.”
I turn around from the mirror to give him a hug. He puts a piece of tape between my eyebrows and yanks it back before I have a chance to react.
Two hairs flail on the piece of tape.
“Oh, I’ve been wanting to do that for the longest time,” Bryce says.
Standing here, with a sudden sharp pain right between my eyes and Bryce holding the remnants of what was between my eyes moments ago, a warmth stirs in me.
It’s strange, uncertain, yet … good. I smile, and he returns the gesture.
Something feels different—maybe it’s hope … something to hold on to for now.