Chapter 15 Tommy
Tommy
As I try to tug my tie into place, I grimace at my reflection in the mirror.
I didn’t sleep last night, and it shows.
There are dark bags under my eyes, my skin looks sallow, and I have a general air of anger about me.
The distress on Giovanna’s face when Tony left the restaurant is grinding in my gut like glass.
The sting of the claw marks she left on my scalp and the look on her face when she came screaming my name are not enough to erase it.
She wants me, but she won’t be with me.
And I’m already fucked without her, like I knew I would be.
I can’t get my fucking tie straight, and I yank on it angrily as I head out the door, almost running into Matti.
“Hey,” he says with his hands up when he sees my face.
“Who’s about to die?”
“The dean of admissions for the law school if he decides to fuck with me,” I grumble.
“The interview is tonight?”
I nod curtly and push past him.
“Hold on,” he says, grabbing my shoulder and gesturing to my tie.
“Give me that.”
I pull my tie off over my head, hand it to him, and start walking.
He follows, putting the tie around his own neck and tying it correctly.
In the elevator, he fixes it in his reflection, then hands it to me and adjusts it for me when I put it on.
When we step off the elevator, he claps me on the shoulder.
“If this asshole gives you any problems, let me and Vin know.”
I nod.
But he’s not going to give me any problems. I’m not in the mood to take anyone’s shit, and tempered with Giovanna’s advice, I’m determined to pull this off on my own.
When I get to the restaurant, everything is set up as I requested.
All the tables have been moved off the floor, except one small table and two chairs next to a window overlooking the entrance.
The waitstaff have positioned themselves against the back wall, ready to attend to anything we need.
I text Giovanna a picture of the room setup, not knowing if she’s going to respond.
She barely spoke to me when I drove her home last night and got out of the car with a clipped goodbye, slamming the door.
Is this good?
When I see the little dots indicating that she’s reading it and responding, every muscle in my body relaxes.
It looks good. Have some wine out
along with a charcuterie board.
I frown. I thought this was supposed to be dinner.
Why?
Because you’ll be able to gauge his
mood.
If he drinks and eats, he’s
comfortable and you have nothing
to worry about.
If he doesn’t touch
anything, you’ve got work to do.
She’s brilliant.
Before I can think better of it, I text:
How fast can you get here?
The bubbles appear and disappear once, twice, three times as I make my way to the table, telling a waitress to bring a charcuterie board.
I’m at Lexi’s already. Her swim
party, remember?
Fuck. I don’t like her hanging out with Lexi.
And if Tony’s there and says a God damn thing to her, I’m going to fucking destroy him.
I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts as I take a seat at the table and stare out the window.
The waitress brings the charcuterie board, and I nod, barely paying attention.
“Would you like some wine to go with it, sir?” she asks tentatively.
Giovanna said to have wine out as well so I nod curtly.
“Um, what kind, sir?”
I stare at her blankly.
“Hold on.”
What kind of wine should I order?
A 1990 Giuseppe Rinaldi Barolo
Brunate Riserva.
It’s classic,
everyone likes it and if he knows
anything about wine, he’ll know
it’s a great year and expensive.
I can’t help but smile. She’s amazing. I react to her text with a thumbs up and order the wine.
It’s breathing on the table next to two glasses when the dean arrives.
I can’t get a read on Dean Staunton as he enters the building, but as soon as he hits the doorway and sees the empty restaurant, he sets his jaw and hikes his shoulders, stalking toward me.
I stand and button my jacket, then hold my hand out to him.
“Good to see you, Dean Staunton. Please, have a seat.”
He refuses both my hand and the offer of the seat.
“No, thank you. I can’t stay. This will be brief.
”
The way this guy glares at me makes me want to snatch him by the throat and throw him against the wall.
Instead, I narrow my eyes at him and continue to stand there holding out my hand.
Seconds pass in silence, and the look in his eyes changes slowly from irritation to discomfort.
Clearing his throat, he glances out the window instead of looking at me as he begrudgingly shakes my hand with two quick pumps then releases me, wiping his palm on his suit jacket.
I keep an easy smile on my face that I hope reads as pleasant, like Gi said, and sit down, gesturing to his chair.
“Please. Sit. No reason to let good wine go to waste.”
He glances at the bottle and grimaces.
I’m not sure what that means, but Giovanna was right about the wine making an impression.
I pour some into his glass and some into mine.
Neither of us touches it.
“Mr. Demonio, I don’t want to waste your time or mine.
I simply requested an interview with you to let you know personally that we will not be accepting your application to Columbia Law.
”
I blink. I’m grateful that he’s not making it hard to guess his feelings, but he’s aggressive, and Giovanna told me that overt aggression isn’t appropriate in these situations.
“That surprises me, Dean. I have a 4.0 and a double major in public policy and economics from Columbia. I’ve done internships and volunteer work at the law center on campus, and I was assured that I was the exact candidate that the AILE program is looking for.
” The AILE program is Columbia’s program that allows me to complete my undergraduate and JD work within six years at most. I intend to cut that time in half.
“I’ve read your application, Mr. Demonio.
We don’t generally accept seniors into the program.
”
“I’m only a senior because I’m finishing my Bachelor’s in two years.
I’m ready to start the JD program in the fall, and if you’d allow me to take the exams for the first-year classes, you’ll see that I’m ready for the second year right now.
”
Dean Staunton furrows his brow. “Yes, I read that you completed the coursework quickly, but you are 22, are you not?”
I give him a curt nod.
It’s a question he has the answer to already, so I know he’s leading.
I do this when I’m extracting information from people, setting up a trap.
“So what were you doing with your time during the other two years that your peers were in school?”
He’s taunting me with his tone, the way he uncrosses and recrosses his legs and brushes invisible lint off his suit.
“Working,” I say simply.
“Working,” he repeats slowly.
“Doing what?”
“I work with my family, Dean.”
His eyes spark like the trap just snapped shut around my neck, and discomfort starts to rise in my gut.
The kind of feeling that makes me either want to bring my knife into the discussion or disconnect, leave my body, wait for it to be over.
But I fight through it and keep my eyes steadily on his, like Gi told me to do.
Rule number one.
“Yes,” he says smugly. “Which begs the question: are you interested in law school so you can defend your father when he inevitably faces a RICO trial?”
I sit back, assessing him.
“Do you know my father, Dean Staunton?”
He glares at me.
“I do not,” he asserts icily.
“Then you don’t know that just because I work with my family it does not mean that I am like my family.
”
He waves away my statement. “Regardless, the fact remains that the optics are… not good. At Columbia, we hold our students to a certain standard. We like our future attorneys to stand on the platform provided by Columbia and shine. You, unfortunately, will always stand in the shadow of your name, and if you were to go to Columbia, our organization would be obscured by that shadow as well.”
“I already attend Columbia, Dean.”
“You do, but I am not in charge of the undergraduate school. I am in charge of the law school, and there is a required standard of integrity.”
“Are you questioning my integrity?” It comes out as a growl, and while I immediately feel like I crossed a line, it has the satisfying effect of making him lean his shoulders back in his chair.
Dean Staunton regards me haughtily. “This is not a negotiation, Mr. Demonio.”
What did Giovanna tell me to do?
Smile pleasantly. My face has forgotten how to do that, though, and it takes me a second to remember.
My phone buzzes with a text, but I ignore it.
“You’re right. It’s a problem-solving session.
And I’m a problem solver.”
He raises an eyebrow and adjusts his jacket.
“You are the problem, Mr. Demonio, something you are not capable of solving unless you become someone else.”
“The way I see it, you are the problem, Dean Staunton, and that I can solve.”
Staunton pales but doesn’t flinch.
“That sounded like a threat.”
Fuck, did it?
It wasn’t even close to what I would define as threatening.
I lean closer, bringing my elbows to the table and looking him in the eye.
“I’m interested in building a different legacy for the Demonio family.
Columbia Law is one step on the path I’ve chosen to do that.
”
“What you want is immaterial, Mr. Demonio. Our institution cultivates stewards of justice, not would-be predators. And we are most certainly not a halfway house for reformed mafia royalty.”
“Justice is blind, isn’t it, Dean?
” I lean back. This so-called pleasant smile is making my jaw ache, and his sneer makes me want to rip his face off.
“Justice may be, but public perception isn’t.
Having a Demonio as an alumnus is an impossibility.
Half our donors would leave, the headlines would be brutal, and we’d lose future students to our competitors.
That shadow you stand in is bloody, and Columbia cannot afford that kind of stain.
”
“So your decision was made before you read my application, long before this meeting.”
“This meeting is a formality, nothing more.”
I nod slowly, tapping my fingers on the tablecloth.
“The thing is, I don’t need your approval.
I just need your signature.”
“Another threat, Mr. Demonio? How kind of you to prove my point.”
I shake my head.
“I’m not my father. There will be no threat of bodily harm.
I’ll meet you in your own house: in court.
As you saw, my academic record is impeccable, my LSAT score is perfect, and I’ve invested twice the hours in volunteer work than any other applicant.
”
Dean Staunton scoffs but stiffens, glowering at me.
“Inherited prejudice and bias are assumed for Ivy League schools like Columbia but no longer tolerated. It would be an inconvenient story. And say what you will about my family, but the press does love to speculate about us and those stories tend to go viral.”
“You’re threatening me, the dean of Columbia Law, with a lawsuit?
” He sounds incredulous, but I’m well acquainted with what fear sounds like, and the timbre of his voice has changed.
I tilt my head at him. “You have the opportunity to create a much more positive narrative. Headlines can focus on Columbia Law taking a chance on the future, supportive of positive reform, investing in intellect over politics. Or you can become a cautionary tale about gatekeeping and legacy bias.”
He doesn’t say anything, but his eyes have dropped to the wine glass.
He takes an unsteady sip and sets it back down too quickly, wine sloshing over the side and staining the white tablecloth blood red.
He stares at the stain as I pick up my phone.
Giovanna has sent me half a dozen angry ranting texts.
I scan them as I wait for a response from the Dean.
Antonio told everyone about
last night.
Literally everyone.
Now I’m
getting dirty looks from the
girls and ‘fuck me’ looks from
the guys.
Lexi is badgering me for all
the details.
Two girls just called me a whore
under their breath.
Great, I’ve had three guys ask me
if I want to meet them in the
bathroom.
Apparently, everyone thinks I’m
your fuck toy.
And you won’t even
fuck me!
FUCK. There’s no way this isn’t getting
back to my dad.
Thanks for the support. I appreciate it.
Why are you such an asshole?
The next time you want to blow up
my life, DON’T.
I close my eyes briefly and wipe my hand over my face.
I should get my girl out of there and throw a bomb in the place.
The world would be better off without those entitled assholes.
I stand and slide my phone in my pocket then button my jacket.
“You won’t be sorry, Dean. I will graduate in one year, essentially cutting the AILE program in half by getting my Bachelor’s and JD in three years instead of six.
I plan to do big things in this city. I promise to make Columbia proud.
”
When he doesn’t respond, I clap my hand on his shoulder while he stares blankly forward.
“Enjoy your dinner with my compliments, Dean Staunton. It was a pleasure to meet you. I look forward to receiving my acceptance letter.”