32. Priorities 2.0
Olivia H-T has written her exposé detailing all the rules that have been bent or broken for Andrew Eastman. Now the question is: What to do with it?
Olivia is no longer on the staff of the ’Bred Bulletin, and even if she were, she’d have to submit her article to Charley, who would ask Olivia to reveal her sources—and what would Olivia say? She can’t out Grady.
Olivia’s main goal is to impress Pippa—and the best way to do that is to somehow get national coverage for the story.
Olivia contacts the New York Post by DMing its Instagram account, saying she has confidential information about “a scandal at Tiffin Academy involving Jesse Eastman.” She leaves her cell phone number and expects a call back immediately—because isn’t Jesse Eastman catnip for the Post?
Apparently not: She hears nothing back.
Next, Olivia tries The Cut, the sexy power offshoot of New York magazine.
The Cut wrote a piece the year before about Tiffin’s suspicious rise to number two in the America Today rankings.
Again, Olivia DMs its Instagram. Is there another way she’s supposed to reach them?
Olivia could ask Pippa if she knows someone…
but Olivia wants to do this herself, and she wants it to be a surprise.
Olivia hears nothing back from The Cut.
She tries America Today by calling the main number, which leads her to a switchboard. When the receptionist asks which extension, Olivia says, “I’d like to speak with someone in editorial, please. I have a news story.”
“Please hold,” the receptionist says in a bored voice. He connects Olivia to a line that rings twice, then disconnects.
Olivia’s not sure what to do next. She wonders if her exposé isn’t as big as she thought it’d be.
It’s too niche, maybe? Tiffin is small and in the middle of nowhere.
The only people who would really care are people in the Tiffin community: the parents, the alumni, the donors, the board of directors.
When she tells Grady about her failures, he offers to send the exposé as an email blast, which would go to everyone in the Tiffin database.
While this is tempting, Olivia doesn’t want Grady to get in trouble.
She’s asked him to do too much already, and taking the scandal public—it is a scandal, right?
—is something Olivia wants to do on her own.
Is she out of luck? It seems like it… until Saturday night after the 115th-anniversary celebration, when Olivia sees Taylor, Willow, and Madison J. all dressed up in LoveShackFancy gowns.
“Where are you guys going?” Olivia asks.
“The one-hundred-fifteenth-anniversary cocktail soirée,” Madison J. says. “I get to go because I’m Head Prefect.”
Willow says, “And I get to go because my dad…”
Is on the board, Olivia thinks. Yeah, yeah. And Taylor’s mother too.
“Where is it?” Olivia asks. “Is it at the Teddy? Or is it off campus?”
“The location is secret,” Madison says.
“I wish we could tell you,” Taylor says. She leans in and snaps a selfie of herself and Olivia, but Olivia gives Taylor’s phone the stink eye because what the hell is a “secret location”?
Then, suddenly, it hits her.
“Kk, have fun,” Olivia says. She heads back to her room with as much chill as she can muster. She needs to find a dress.
The luminaires were Cordelia’s idea, but because Audre was terrified of setting the dorms on fire with 240 children inside, they’ve used electric candles inside the paper bags.
The luminaires begin outside the back door to the dorms and weave a path down through the cellar.
(This event was just the excuse Audre needed to ask Mr. James to stack and sort the excess furniture.) They continue down the steep set of stairs that leads to the brick tunnel below.
“Where the hell are you taking us, Audre?” Jesse Eastman asks. He has an arm around O’Malley. Audre isn’t sure how she expected Jesse to treat a girlfriend, but she knows it isn’t like this. He’s positively doting.
“This feels like something out of Harry Potter,” O’Malley says. “It’s that magical.”
It is magical, Audre thinks. The candlelight casts shadows on the vaulted brick tunnel walls. It feels like they’re in a castle or a sacred monastery—until they hear strains of Bobby Darin’s “Beyond the Sea,” and arrive at a closed door.
Here we go, Audre thinks. She holds her breath as she swings the door open.
The room is spangled with coins of rose-gold light cast from the crystal chandelier.
There are already guests assembled: Madison J.
and her mother, Naomi; Willow Levy with her father, Ari; Taylor Wilson with her mother, Kathy; and East, who is by himself.
(He asked Audre if Charley could come, but Audre said no, this party is only for potential donors, and board members and their children.)
Jefferson from the Alibi—freshly shaved, showered, and dressed in a tailored black shirt and tie—is mixing cocktails behind the bar.
It was Cordelia’s idea to hire Jefferson, and Cordelia who put together the playlist of standards.
Audre catches her eye across the room—she’s wearing a black beaded gown that shows off her cleavage, good for her! —and mouths, Thank you.
She steps aside so Jesse can take it all in.
“What the hell?” he says. He sounds angry, and Audre can’t really blame him. How to explain this incredibly chic and sexy bar in the basement of the dorms? “What is this, Audre?”
“It’s a speakeasy called Priorities,” Audre says.
“It was designed and built by an anonymous donor to host events like this one.” She nearly goes on to tell Jesse that the doors are dead-bolted at all times and that cameras line the brick tunnel, but she holds her tongue so Jesse can process the black marble bar, the green velvet and brass barstools, the suede cup chairs.
“It’s a goddamned bar in the dorms!” Jesse bellows. Then he starts to laugh. “I love it!”
Audre exhales. She raises her eyebrows at Coop, mimes lifting a glass, and Coop heads for Jefferson. A second later, she hears the sound of champagne popping.
Jesse says, “Anonymous donor? I can’t believe it.” He gazes around the room; Ari Levy waves. “Is the anonymous donor here tonight?”
“I can’t tell you that, Jesse.”
“But surely…”
Audre is saved from having to answer because in the definition of irony, East approaches. “Hey, Dad.”
“Hey, kid.” Jesse lets go of O’Malley so he can hug his son, tousle his hair. “Why are you so goddamned good-looking?”
“Hey, East,” O’Malley says.
East pulls away from his father and glances at her. “Hey.”
“Is Liam here?” O’Malley asks.
“He’s not,” Audre says. “We had to limit the numbers…” Coop arrives with champagne flutes for Audre and O’Malley.
“No, thank you,” O’Malley says.
She’s upset, Audre thinks. Why didn’t Audre think to include Liam? He’s O’Malley’s cousin; this was a huge misstep. Should Audre point out that lots of prominent sixth-formers—Davi, Charley, Hakeem, Royce—weren’t invited either?
“I’ll take that,” East says, reaching for the flute.
Audre opens her mouth to protest but decides to defer to Jesse, who winks at East. “I can’t believe you’re not down here every night, buddy.” He sweeps his eyes around the room. “Call me crazy, but it looks like your mother decorated this place. It’s her exact aesthetic.”
East throws back half his champagne in one gulp. Audre glances around to see if anyone has noticed. East is twenty years old; the other parents might assume he’s alumni… but it still feels a bit conspicuous.
Willow, Madison J., and Taylor are drinking club soda with lime. At least Audre thinks that’s what they’re drinking, though it could easily be vodka!
Coop returns with two more flutes, one for him and one for Jesse.
Audre raises her glass. “Cheers!” she says.
Half an hour later, the party is in full swing.
Diana Krall sings “The Boy from Ipanema” while Jefferson’s cocktail shaker keeps the beat.
Audre has no idea who half the people in the room are—parents of incoming students?
She’s talking to a gentleman named Mr. O’Ryan—or Mr. Orion?
—from Evansville, Indiana, whose twin girls will be attending Tiffin next year.
“It’s been a while since we’ve had twins at the school,” Audre says. (Max and Rachel Silverman, who were sixth-formers Audre’s first year as Head.)
“Amanda and Ashley are identical,” Mr. O’Ryan says. “Sometimes even I can’t tell them apart.”
“What’s your line of work?” Audre asks, then immediately chastises herself. She’s learned from Etiquette Instagram that it’s considered rude to ask a person what he does for a living. Instead, you’re supposed to ask what inspires him professionally.
“I own a plumbing supply company,” Mr. O’Ryan says.
Audre smiles. “Is it a chain…?” She’s thinking Roto-Rooter or Kohler. (She knows exactly nothing about plumbing.)
“No, just one store,” Mr. O’Ryan says. “We service Evansville and the surrounds.”
Audre is flummoxed. One plumbing supply store does not a multi-bajillionaire make. Did Mr. O’Ryan also win the lottery, perhaps?
She would love to get a moment with Cordelia to ask what criteria were used for the invite list. She has been holding out hope that she would meet someone at this party willing to donate millions, which she could report to Jesse in the morning to offset the catastrophic news about the budget.
But that person won’t be Mr. O’Ryan. Is there anyone else?
Audre hears a chiming noise. Across the room, Jesse Eastman is tapping a spoon against his champagne glass. This, Audre notes, is also a no-no according to Etiquette Instagram, though it does the trick: Conversation quiets, the music stops.
“If I can please have everyone’s attention? I’m Jesse Eastman, president of the board here at Tiffin…”
Outgoing president, Audre thinks. Audre sees Kathy Wilson hovering at Jesse’s elbow. Is Jesse perhaps going to preempt a board vote and name Kathy as his successor? Even though she’s a shoo-in, Audre hopes not.