4. Blake
4
BLAKE
I take a deep breath as I look up at the weathered brick building. This is it. I clench and unclench my fists, making sure my hands aren’t shaking. That’s the last thing I need on my first day.
I need a lot of things today, in fact, that nerves would only mess with. I need to meet my new colleagues. Some of them were at the dinner when I was interviewing, but that was a while ago, and not all of the names stuck. More important than that even, I need to get my office in order, and most important of all, I need to iron out my lesson plans for the semester.
I have to give the students a syllabus on the first day with some information about the class I’m teaching on Game Theory this semester. Which means, of course, that I have to know some information about what I’m going to teach this semester.
It shouldn’t be too hard, I suppose. I’ve been teaching this class as a TA for like four years while I was doing my PhD.
But it’s different when it’s your own class.
I pull open the heavy door of the Economics building and step inside. The hallway is empty, and a door marked OFFICE is to my right. I stick my head in.
“Hi. I’m Blake Grantham,” I start.
The woman sitting at the desk jumps up, and I wish she’d stayed seated, even if her movement gives me something to focus on other than her bright-blue eyeshadow and false eyelashes.
“Oh, Professor Grantham!” she says, her voice almost unnaturally high-pitched, making me wonder if she’s making it that high on purpose. “It’s so good to meet you. I’ve heard such great things!”
I’m trying to focus on her face rather than on her outfit, which seems more appropriate for a nightclub than for a receptionist in a college Economics department. A tight leopard-print skirt leaves nothing to the imagination, and if I still wasn’t sure about the goods, the fact that her bright-pink blouse is unbuttoned one more notch than appropriate would give me a clue.
“Uh. Thanks.” I’m not sure how else to respond, especially since she hasn’t introduced herself.
I’m assuming she’s the secretary, but you know what they say when you assume.
“Let me show you your office! You’re right on the first floor. So convenient! I can just bring your mail right on over as soon as I get it.”
“Great.” I can already tell I don’t want to encourage her.
She slides past me into the hallway. “Now, just follow me. I’m Randi. And if you ever need anything— anything at all—don’t hesitate to ask, okay?”
Her voice is starting to give me a headache.
“Mmm-hmm,” I say noncommittally.
Randi slides a key into a door and turns the knob. “This is all yours!” she trills, pushing the door open.
It’s underwhelming, but it’s a start.
“Thanks, Randi.” I hold my hand out for the key, which she passes over. “I’ll let you know if I need anything.”
“Anytime!” She bats her eyelashes before sashaying back down the hallway .
I look around the space. It’s not huge, but it’s a damn sight better than the shared post-doc office I’m used to. It’s a blank canvas, with white walls and standard campus-issued furniture. It just needs some organization and maybe a few things to add personality, and it’ll be solid.
I scratch my jaw as I turn in a circle, taking it in. If I turn the desk that way, set it in the middle of the room, I can sit behind it and have students sit in these chairs. I’ll just have them face the desk on the other side. My stacks of textbooks will go nicely on the shelves there. Maybe pick up a filing cabinet to hold important papers.
The chair behind the desk looks like it’s seen better days. I sit down, testing it.
It sinks all the way to its lowest setting.
I raise the seat and try again. The chair sinks.
I mentally add buy new desk chair to my to-do list.
A knock on the door has me turning around.
“Hello?”
The guy standing in my doorway looks to be about my age, with jeans and a button-down that match mine other than the sleeves—mine are buttoned at the cuff, while his are unbuttoned and rolled up. Even the blue color is similar.
He takes one step into my office and holds out a hand, a smile stretched across his face. “Hey, man. I heard you joined the faculty. Blake Grantham, right? I’m Jeremy Williams. Macroeconomics.”
I return his handshake. “Great to meet you. I’m teaching Microeconomics this semester along with my Game Theory class. Just got here and trying to figure out how to set this place up.”
Jeremy holds up a finger. “One suggestion. Write down everything you need—chair, office supplies, furniture, all that—and give it to Randi all at once. Otherwise, she’ll be in here all the time.”
I chuckle. “I got that sense.”
Jeremy looks around the office. “Not a bad spot here. Nice view of the quad. Need help moving stuff around?”
I look at the desk and shrug. “Sure, if you’re up for it. I was going to get this desk turned like…”
I gesture with my hands, indicating the direction I want the desk to face—sitting in the center of the room, so when I sit behind it, I’m in direct view of the door.
“Got it.” Jeremy steps farther into the office and grabs a corner of the desk while I roll my shirtsleeves up. “So, did Randi already grill you on your dating life?”
I cringe. “No. Thank God. ”
He lets out a low whistle. “Well, get ready. That cat has her claws out one hundred percent of the time, just waiting to sink them into the next unsuspecting guy.”
I grunt as we shove the desk into place. “She’s got no chance with me. Not anything on her, but I’m just not in a place for a girlfriend right now.”
“She won’t care.” Jeremy straightens and pushes a hand through his hair. “I told her the same thing for a year. She didn’t back off and leave me alone until I told her I was gay.”
A snort escapes from me. “Well, that’s one way to get a woman off your back.”
He nods. “And since I’m bi, it’s not entirely a lie. Showing up at a department reception with my boyfriend definitely helped get her off my case permanently.” He looks around the office. “I like the desk this way. Need help with anything else?”
“How are you settling in?” Randi’s voice cuts into my concentration.
“Fine, thanks,” I say.
I don’t look up. Yeah, it’s rude, but this is the fourth time she’s been in here. I’m hoping if I partially ignore her, she’ll get the hint .
So far it hasn’t worked.
After Jeremy and I moved the desk, we moved the bookshelf and found a desk chair that’ll work well enough until I get a new one. We left the broken one in the study lounge.
I’ve been hunched over my laptop, working on this syllabus for a few hours. And every time I think I’m getting into the groove, Randi appears. It’s like she has this sense that I’m actually focused, and she needs to insert herself.
“Are you planning to take a break for lunch anytime soon?”
I shrug. “Not really. I’ll let you know.”
“Okay.”
I look up to see her twirling a piece of bleached-blonde hair around her finger. “Thanks, Randi.”
How do you tell someone to leave without seeming like a dick?
“Let me know if you need anything! I’ll stop by to check if you need coffee or anything, okay?” She wanders off down the hall, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
I wish she’d let me just get my own coffee. I’ll have to see if Jeremy has any advice about that one.
My phone vibrates, and I swipe it open to see a new text from Jeremy, who programmed his number into my phone after he helped move my desk.
Jeremy
I’m headed to the student union for lunch. Want to join?
Sure. How do I get out without going by Randi? She invited me to lunch and I told her I had to do work.
*crying laughing emoji*
Grab your laptop and head toward my office. Opposite end of the hall from the entrance. There’s another exit down this way.
I close my laptop and tuck it into my messenger bag, then I slip the strap over my shoulder. I stick my head out my office door and look both ways. Coast clear.
I pull the door shut and head down the hallway, peering over my shoulder to make sure Randi doesn’t catch me.
Jesus, it’s my first day of my first real, adult job, and I’m sneaking out like I’m playing hooky from high school.
Jeremy is waiting by his office door. He motions down the hallway, and the two of us creep toward the door like we’re afraid of getting caught.
As we step onto the quad, I breathe a sigh of relief. “It’s like sneaking out of jail or something. And why the laptop?”
“Plausible deniability. If you do run into her, you just tell her you’re headed to the library or to a meeting.”
I scratch the side of my jaw. “So am I going to have to do this forever? Maybe agreeing to one date would be easier. Prove we have no chemistry and get her off my back.”
Jeremy holds up a finger, shaking his head. “No. Hard no. Trust me. You don’t want to end up like Emilio Tavish.”
I roll my eyes as we make our way across the lush green lawn of the quad, passing by the massive brick library. “Who’s that? Her last conquest?”
From the few hours I’ve known Jeremy, I’ve learned that he’s a storyteller. Not just the kind of guy who always has a story, but the kind who can take any random event or rumor and turn it into a soliloquy worthy of an Oscar.
“Oh, my sweet child. Let me tell you about Emilio.” He flourishes his hand, and I can tell he’s picturing a cinematic flashback of some sort. “Emilio, Professor Tavish if you will, was one of the greats. Ivy League educated, brilliant scientist. Recruited by the dean of faculty himself. Anticipated to become a university fixture. There was talk of him being groomed to take over as President of the College one day.”
I move to the edge of the sidewalk to allow a group of students to pass us while Jeremy keeps talking.
“First day of the semester, Randi dug her claws into him. Claimed him. Inserted herself into every facet of his day.”
“Why didn’t he just tell her to go away?” I pull open the door of the student union.
Jeremy pauses and gives me a long look. “Why didn’t you?”
I cringe internally. He has a point.
“Exactly,” Jeremy says. “He was being nice. And do you know where being nice got him?”
I have a feeling I’m about to find out.
Jeremy leads us to a counter with a sign declaring it THE PANINI PRESS and orders a panini, then he turns back to me while a guy who looks like he needs a haircut starts making the sandwich. He reminds me of Miller, with his hair in his eyes.
“She started showing up all the time. In his office. In his classes. Even in the faculty parking lot by his car.”
“Yikes.” I order a turkey and cheese panini with avocado. “So she turned into a stalker?”
He nods emphatically as he takes his order and places it on a tray. “So he decided to agree to one date. Just to ‘get her off his back,’ as you said.”
This is starting to sound like the opening for a story on Unsolved Mysteries . Also, I’m starting to wonder if there’s more than a little creative editing on Jeremy’s part. If this all really happened, Randi wouldn’t have a job.
“And he was never heard from again?” I take my panini along with a bag of chips and follow him to a table.
“What? No.” Jeremy sets his lunch down and pulls out a chair. “He told her he didn’t want to go out again, but she didn’t listen. It changed nothing. So she just kept hanging around him like before. He couldn’t get anything done, and he eventually got so fed up that he switched jobs.”
I unwrap my panini and take a bite, then I chew and swallow. “Damn, these are good. I’m definitely having lunch here every day.” I swallow another bite. “So where does the disgraced Professor Tavish work now? ”
Jeremy pops a chip into his mouth and chews. “Oh. He works at Harvard now.”
I snort. “Talk about anticlimactic.”
“It’s the principle.” Jeremy looks at something over my shoulder.
I start to turn, but before I can see who’s there, a hand lightly settles on my shoulder. “Blake?”