“You’re right—I’m no longer a journalist, but a journalism professor.”
“That’s not what I mean. And you know as well as I do that you could get back into it very easily, if you wanted to. I mean, you don’t go fishing or ride your bike or play disc golf anymore. When was the last time you did anything like that? You can go ahead and tell me that you’re too busy with work, but that’s total bullshit, and you know it. And so yeah, when I say that I’m concerned, I am, because it seems like you’re not really that happy with the way your life is going right now, and I don’t think that getting involved with a student is going to improve that.”
I had to hold back my laughter. He really did have a concerned look on his face, like he thought I was going to go home and take a razor blade to my wrists. “This whole thing sort of seems like some kind of cry for help, if you want to know the truth.”
“Cry for help? Are you kidding me? This sort of thing is what most guys dream about. Don’t tell me for a second that if some hot little thing came up and propositioned you that you wouldn’t at least consider it.”
“I would never do anything like that.” Jack shook his head. “No way. I would never do anything that would jeopardize my position here.”
“Well, I guess that’s the difference between the two of us. And I don’t believe you. I don’t believe that you wouldn’t at least consider it. Or, if not consider it, think about it later and wonder just what it would be like.”
“I would put it out of my mind and not think about it again,” Jack said.
Okay. I could see that we could stand here debating this for the rest of the night if we wanted to, which I sure as hell did not.
“Why don’t we go do something? Go out to eat, go check out a movie or something. Why don’t you do that with me tonight, and then see how you feel about getting involved with a student. I think it might just be something that you need to give yourself a little time to think about, and realize how bad of an idea it is.”
“Sorry; I’m not choosing dinner and a movie with you over seeing Tessa tonight. But I will let you know how it goes.”
I lived in an apartment that overlooked the Financial District. It was rent-controlled, which was the only way I’d ever be able to afford a place like it, and for that, I was grateful. In the past, though, this apartment had really been like a home base, a place that I’d live in a few weeks at a time before heading off to some new location I’d never been to, to write up a story.
The magazine that I’d previously worked at had sent me all over the globe to cover all sorts of stories, though my niche had eventually evolved into extreme sports. So I’d go to Rotorua, New Zealand for Crankworx, do a feature on diving at Shark Cave in Bali, and my last assignment before I’d gotten canned was to go out to Leogang, Austria, to do a write-up on freeskiing.
Now, it would be fair to say that had I not made the decision to sleep with the boss’s wife, I’d still be gainfully employed, getting paid to travel around the world and write up stories. I get it. And was it worth it? If I could go back and do it again, would I do anything differently? Of course I fucking would, but I couldn’t let myself think like that. There was no point, because as far as I knew, no one had created a time machine that would let you go back and fix your mistakes like that.
Was I making a mistake here with Tessa? Maybe. But at this point, it didn’t matter to me either way if I got fired. Life had suddenly become interesting again, and I didn’t want to do anything to fuck with that. It had been too long.
11.
Tessa
I stood in my bedroom, looking into my closet, trying to decide what I should wear when I went over to Leo’s tonight. So far, I had only decided on a black lace bra with a little rose in the middle, and a black G-string. I’d only worn the G-string once; it was uncomfortable, though Lindsey said it just felt that way because I wasn’t used to wearing one, and if I did it on a regular basis, eventually, I wouldn’t even notice that I had it on.
The doorbell buzzed. I left my bedroom and went over to the small front hallway to the intercom. I pressed the call button, expecting to hear Lindsey’s voice outside. But it wasn’t; it was my mother.
“Mom!” I said. “What are you doing here?”
“Sorry to drop by unannounced, but I met up with Marjorie for tea at Top of the Mark, and I thought I should at least swing by and say hello! I didn’t bring my key, though—will you let me in?”
“Oh! Okay! Hold on.”
“Just buzz me in, Tessa! I need to use your bathroom; I had way too much tea.”
I was standing there in my underwear, I realized. If she came in and saw me dressed like this, she’d know that something was up. I breathed a little sigh of relief that she’d forgotten her copy of the key she had to my apartment; if she’d remembered it, she would have just let herself right in, like the place was hers, which, I supposed, since she and Dad were the ones paying for it, it kind of was.
“Tessa! Are you going to let me in?”
“Sure,” I said. “I was just getting changed, but come on up.”
I unlocked my apartment door and then rushed off into the bedroom, grabbing a T-shirt and a pair of yoga pants out of my drawer. I was just sliding the shirt on over my head when I heard the door open and my mother bustle in. She headed straight for the bathroom.
“Ah,” she said a minute later as she came out. “Sorry about that. Tea runs straight through me. It was delicious though; you should let me take you out there sometime. Such a nice view. Anyway, I wanted to stop by and see how you were doing. I didn’t love the way that we left things the last time you stopped over.”
“I’m fi
ne, Mom,” I said. “Thanks for stopping by.”
“Are you sure? Your father and I had a long talk about it when he got home from golf that day. He’s not going to change his mind about anything, which I’m sure won’t come as any surprise to you. I partially agree with it—we did all talk about it beforehand. But at the same time, I know that you’re a good girl and if you say you’re going to turn things around, then you will.”