The Corn Husk Experiment

by Andrea Cale

  “Anything else?” Devin asked.

  “Yes, actually. We need to go over what you’re going to say about your opponent. So by now you know that you’re matched up against Syracuse College’s Orange and Navy, and you’ve had just a little time to think about how you’re going to play against them. What will be your strategy on handling SC’s defense, a unit that is called The Keys for their fans’ support during their relentless third-down stops? In particular, how are you going to manage Craig Whistler?”

  “I’m going to carry a padlock in my pocket and bonk anyone who comes near me over the head with it.”

  “Devin! Listen, the key to answering this question is to sound confident without giving away any of your strategy secrets. How about keeping it simple? Just give a non-answer. Say you are looking forward to a good matchup, but you also look forward to pulling it out in the end.”

  “I like my sound bite better.”

  “And I’m sure you do. Look, Devin. We don’t have time to play around. We’ve got to get you over to the stadium where NSN already has a crew waiting to go live shortly with a feed. I know you’re going to do better than this. Forget about doing anything for me. The chancellor, your coach, and your team are all counting on you. The entire student body is thrilled to cheer you on. Let’s do this. I don’t have to tell you that your team is the better team, but in just about any city outside of Boston, Syracuse College will be the sentimental favorite on game day, especially with that little JP Hemmings on the field. It’s just a fact. It’s not going to benefit the school if you come across the least bit—pardon my choice of words—cocky.”

  “Oh, Jim.”

  “It’s James.”

  “Don’t you worry about the sentimental favorite. I think I’ll give JP a run for his money in that department. Watch my interview and see for yourself.”

  “I can honestly say that I am going to be anxiously awaiting this one. The truck is waiting. Let’s go.”

  “We’re here, folks, with the man of the hour, Devin Madison, who joins us from University of Boston’s home field. Devin has led his Falcons to an undefeated season. He’s in the running for the Heisman, throwing for three thousand yards already this year as quarterback, and he just landed his team a spot in the prestigious Orange Bowl. Welcome to the show, Devin. Congrats.”

  “Thanks. It’s great to be with you.”

  The university’s new PR director relaxed his shoulders just a little from behind the camera.

  “So, look, the Orange Bowl is the Orange Bowl. It’s not exactly easy getting into that. Do you feel the least bit slighted, though, that as the only undefeated team in the BCS, you didn’t earn the spot in the FedEx BCS Championship Game? Do you think the polls were basically saying that your ACC Division was not as challenging as some others?”

  “The polls have a very tough job,” Devin said. “There are so many teams, and unless we all played each and every one, it’s hard to predict who would’ve been on top over who. I personally believe we could’ve come out on top against any team this year with the group of guys we have. They have a lot of heart, but all of that aside, the Orange Bowl has great history in the sport and for my family too. I was personally hoping for the Orange Bowl.”

  The PR director instantly wished he had done even more research to uncover this fact himself before the interview. Devin’s reason for testing his abilities was no longer a wonder, he thought. The staffers in NSN’s studio were wishing they had been more prepared too. Luckily, one of the panelists vaguely knew about Devin’s father.

  “Yes, now your father was a great college football player. Didn’t he play in that frigid game against Joe Mont—”

  “Yes, he was called the Hustler and played for Houston,” Devin interrupted. “But my grandfather played as well, and he’s who I was referencing. He played in Boston and was about to lead his team to none other than the Orange Bowl until they lost their last game of the season very unexpectedly to a much less accomplished team. But the loss saved his life—literally. A celebration had been planned at the Coconut Grove nightclub in Boston after the game. The establishment burned to the ground that night, killing scores of people inside. Luckily for my grandfather, the loss of the game sent him home instead of out to the ill-fated club. His life was saved, but he never got to go to the Orange Bowl.”

  Devin looked into the camera with a somber face.

  “This trip to the Orange Bowl is for you, Pops,” he said.

  Devin hoped viewers across the country were tearing up just a little. He wanted to wink at James from the other side of the camera, as if to ask, “Who is the sentimental favorite now?” Instead, he kept himself poised.

  “Wow! And you’ve been playing in Boston, the same city as your grandfather. So it’s safe to say, then, that both the Orange Bowl and the city carry very special meaning for your family.”

  “I think this particular game is meant to be.”

  “It’s fascinating, Devin. Perfectly fascinating. Now what about those Syracuse Orange and Navy? How do you plan to take them on in such an important game—clearly important now for so many reasons? What will your strategy be against the pesky Orange defense, a unit everyone calls The Keys?”

  “I think I’ll lock The Keys up in their locker room before the game,” Devin said, flashing his best smile at the camera.

  The NSN panelists erupted in genuine laughter.

  “OK. Right. Well, thanks again, Devin Madison. Good luck to you and the Falcons in your quest for an Orange Bowl win. Good luck to you in your Heisman run. Terrific interview. Just terrific!”

  “This was my pleasure,” Devin said. “There is no place I’d rather be.”

  The quarterback couldn’t resist giving a sassy wink to James, whose body was framed by the bright lights around the camera. The man had no choice but to smile back.

  CHAPTER 23

  CAROLINE

  The Troubled One

  Caroline sat on her little stool in the Gentlemen’s Club dressing room and carefully rolled a sheer white nylon over one of her thin, muscular legs. Outside the room, a few of the dancers’ colleagues took the stage as 50 Cent’s “In the Club” blared inside their own.

  The bass made the dressing room walls and Caroline’s nerves vibrate just the tiniest bit. The room of young ladies smelled, as it always did, like the saccharine mixture of cheap aerosol hairspray and vanilla air freshener. Caroline squinted at the mirror and took stock at who she’d become. As others chatted excitedly about their babies, boyfriends, and bills in matching white anti-sweat socks that would eventually get stuffed inside tall, lace-up boots, Caroline experienced the same unsettled feelings that stirred inside her within her dormitory shower room on campus. The club’s dressing area was yet another place where she never quite felt like she belonged.

  She sat somberly and silently as she positioned her blonde bob of a wig upon her head. The routine had become natural, even though it appeared far from that. Caroline let her red hair hang down before pulling the fake locks tightly on top. She’d twist pieces of her long, fiery strands and hide them neatly beneath the blonde ones with the help of sharp, punishing bobby pins that scraped against her scalp. Before long, not even she would recognize the girl staring back at her in the mirror.

  Putting on the wig was a ritual that had begun a week earlier, when she had spotted her favorite psychology professor in one of the guest seats. She had stood frozen momentarily behind him before sneaking into the dressing room for cover. She had felt thankful there that she hadn’t needed to transition their last conversation about the A- on her paper on multiple personality disorder—a topic she was relating to while living a secret double life—into something that began with, “What are you doing here, professor?” Or, “What are you doing here, Caroline?” Feeling confused, angry, and disappointed at the sighting, Caroline had immediately tugged at her locket. She already held an automatic disliking of the patrons of the club and had wondered if her professor had an unknowing partner sl
eeping at home in that moment. Were there any men out there who could be trusted? On that night, she had also wondered how she would be able to carry out her new gig on stage knowing her professor was in the audience.

  Always a professional at suppressing her emotions, Caroline had managed to carry on. She had looked at one of the club’s regular dancers and spotted the woman’s wigs resting lifelessly on a short row of foam heads in the dressing room.

  “Um, so I don’t know if this is way too personal of a question,” Caroline said.

  “Shoot,” the dancer had replied. She paused her application of midnight blue eyeliner and looked at Caroline with half-done, fully attentive eyes.

  Caroline wasn’t someone who tended to ask for help, and the woman had seemed to sense that.

  “Well, would it be all right if I borrowed a wig tonight? Just until I can pick up my own?”

  “See someone you know out there tonight, hun?”

  “You’ve been doing this a while,” Caroline had admitted. “You’re good.”

  “Pick your pleasure,” the woman had said. “Who do you want to be tonight? A short-haired and stylish blonde? A classy brunette with sharp bangs? That one seems to be a moneymaker.”

  “Thanks,” Caroline had said as she selected the blonde one and immediately put it on.

  “It looks good on you. Keep it, Caroline. I’ve got plenty more at home, sadly enough.”

  The disguise had worked that night and brought Caroline the added comfort of making herself feel a little more removed from her work.

  Several performances had passed now with the wig as her security while Caroline popped in and out of the Gentlemen’s Club, whenever there was time left after her studies, cheerleading, cafeteria card swiping, and dating the most sought-after guy on campus. The dancer had already brought home from the club more than $1,000 in cash. She wondered if it was already enough to get her through the rest of the school year.

  As 50 Cent’s song came to a close, Caroline slowly pulled the second white nylon up her other leg while the young ladies around her squeezed their long limbs into knee-length boots. As time brought them all closer to taking the stage, their moods matched Caroline’s now. One of the dancers approached her and broke the growing silence.

  “So, do you like football or something?”

  The question made Caroline freeze in her preparations. Thoughts whirled inside her head faster than she could calculate a reply. Until now, she had managed to keep her other life a secret from the dancers in hopes that her controversial work at the club wouldn’t intersect with her scholarship at University of Boston, a school she had grown to love. Her studies meant so much more than having the cash necessary for new outfits for dates with Devin or a dinner off campus every once in a while with the girls from school. Had Caroline’s coworker spotted her on the sidelines of a Falcons game recently? Had Phil, the club manager, slipped on his promise to keep Caroline’s background confidential?

  Despite her confusion and worry, Caroline managed to reply in a sweet tone that carried not a hint of abrasiveness.

  “Um, I like football, I guess. Why do you ask?”

  “I just saw you watching sports on one of the club TVs before hitting the dressing room. Big bowl game announcement today. I’m a fan myself.”

  “Oh, wow, yeah. I’m excited for a local team to be going to the Orange Bowl,” said Caroline as her mood lifted, even if only for a moment.

  “I know. And that blondie quarterback you were watching in that interview on the news is beyond handsome.”

  Caroline couldn’t deny that. The other dancer continued.

  “You know, a couple of my girlfriends who work here say he’s coming in tonight to celebrate. He may already be here. I’m Andrea, by the way.”

  Caroline’s mood came crashing down.

  “Um, I’m Caroline,” the perpetually troubled girl offered, even though her mind was already somewhere else and her right hand had already found its way to her locket. “Have a good night.”

  Caroline had known deep beneath her locket that Devin, as charismatic and disarming as he was, could not be trusted. Still wanting to make excuses for him, she reached inside her backpack for her cell. She felt her heart pound harder as she spotted a freshly missed call from him. She plugged her outer ear with a painted index finger so as not to miss a word.

  “Caroline, my princess, how are you, my true love?”

  He had begun singing the lyrics to Debby Boone’s “You Light Up My Life.”

  The golden boy managed to bring a smile to Caroline’s face before the message continued.

  “Hey, listen, did you see me on TV? I was thinking about you, you know, and hoping you were watching. Anyway, I’m beat from it all. Beyond beat. I’m going to head off to sleep now, so call me in the morning, will you? I will be dreaming of you tonight.”

  He belted out the first line of Selena’s “Dreaming of You” in jest.

  Caroline’s face did not reveal a smile with his second serenade. His lie made sure of that. The message played on.

  “Hey, did I ever tell you that you are the most beautiful girl I have ever met? Seriously now, I’m so happy we’re together. I already love you.”

  Caroline let her phone fall into a new designer bag in disgust. She was disgusted at herself. She suddenly questioned her judgment, which until recently had guided her well through a life of challenge. How could I be such a fool? How could I ignore all the signs time after time after time? Why am I even working here? She thought about running from the club—white nylons and all—but something made her want to stay and see him. More than anything, something also made Caroline want him to see her.

  A knock on the dressing room door prompted most of the girls to answer mechanically, “All clear.”

  Phil walked in, closest to Caroline’s stool.

  “Hey, Caroline,” the manager whispered kindly.

  Wherever she went, she was everyone’s favorite. The manager’s voice deepened so all could hear.

  “Time for the shift change. Hope you ladies make a lot of cash tonight.”

  “Amen,” shouted Andrea.

  Caroline looked the girl over more closely now from wig to boot. Jealousy wasn’t usually an emotion that brought Caroline’s hand to her locket, but it did on this night. She quickly applied one last layer of lipstick, sadly straightened her plaid mini skirt, and led the way from the dressing room.

  Phil always put Caroline on the main stage first in her shift. He knew she was the one the regulars were hoping to see. He knew she would set the right mood for new patrons too. On this night, though, he was oblivious that his selection would ensure a very bad night for one important new guest who had just taken a seat.

  Caroline scanned the tables and chairs from backstage and spotted Devin’s smile first. He still wore his suit from the day’s interviews. An entourage of teammates and friends surrounded him. They were all drinking, laughing, and pointing out which dancer was their new favorite. Little did they know that someone with even more beauty, talent, and innocent seductiveness was about to take center stage.

  From behind the curtains, Caroline couldn’t help but feel both angry and guilty at the same time. Ironically, she had told Devin that morning that she also would be heading in early for study and sleep. She questioned whose lie was worse.

  As Caroline watched one of her coworkers begin to loosen Devin’s necktie from across the room, the troubled girl emphatically decided that Devin’s double life was far worse than her own. Anger ripped through her and fully overtook her guilt now. Her ears felt hot under the blonde wig. Caroline thought about ripping it off, pins and all, but on came AC/DC’s “Hell’s Bells,” her cue to take the stage.

  She didn’t let herself get lost immediately in the music, as she had on stage every other time. She wanted to see if Devin had truly cared about being with her. As she spun and danced, she watched Devin’s friends whoop like idiots, hitting each other on the shoulders. None of them recognized Caroli
ne in her wig. She could tell Devin hadn’t either, although she knew it was only a matter of time for him.

  She stepped inward to do the signature backward twirl that had landed her a job during her audition with Phil. As Caroline’s locket took air around her neck, its sparkle caught Devin’s eye. She watched everything else begin to look familiar to him too—her bare thighs, her slender arms, the nape of her neck that he had already kissed on many drunken nights only to get more of whatever he really wanted, and finally, when Caroline stopped spinning downward, he saw her face.

  She made eye contact and absorbed Devin’s own look of shock and confusion. Maybe he was angry with her and ashamed at himself, all at once. Maybe he was just angry. Finally, she let herself get lost in the music. Always able to use her emotions to her advantage in her dance, Caroline gave perhaps the performance of a lifetime, even if it was on center stage of a Gentlemen’s Club.

  From behind the club’s bar, Phil noted the power and emotion behind Caroline’s dance and, with mixed feelings, had a hunch it might be her grand finale at his establishment.

  CHAPTER 24

  DEVIN

  The Gifted One

  Devin awoke alone in his bed to the piercing beep of his alarm clock and the melancholy patter of freezing raindrops outside his apartment window. The evening of celebrating his University of Boston Falcons’ upcoming trip to the Orange Bowl now left him with cravings for a tall glass of water and a pair of fast-food sausage, egg, and cheese biscuits with greasy hash browns on the side to help set the hangover straight.

  Those weren’t his only pangs. Devin was also starting his day with the kind of ache that was much more foreign to him. It was the type of sting he had easily doled out to others many times. A girl—as badly as he knew he deserved it—had just broken his heart.