The Dark Proposal (The Claire McCormick Trilogy)

by Megan Cashman

  Claire almost slammed her fork down. “Anything helps! It’s tough to freelance in this economy. But maybe this professor could help me get further, with better pay.”

  “Its all about who you know, Sam,” Monica sat between them, her eyes darting between them.

  Samantha sighed heavily. “I just don’t want to end up having to throw you out, Claire. I feel like I’m always paying for everything since I bring home more money than you, thanks to bartending. Monica did her best with tutoring this summer and now she’s substituting while going for her master’s. When are you going to pitch in?”

  Claire opened her mouth to protest when Monica put her hands up between them. “Whoa, cut it out the both of you! Palermo will hear you!” Vincent Palermo and his wife, Theresa, lived in the house above the apartment and were the girls’ landlords.

  “We have the same argument nearly every night and its not worth it,” Monica went on to say. “We know its tough out there, the economy sucks, no one in our graduating class has had it easy. Didn’t we all promise to stick it out together?”

  “Yeah, but even families fell apart during the Great Depression,” Samantha mumbled.

  “You know, I think I’ve eaten enough,” said Claire. “You can add this to the leftovers.” She got up and went to her bedroom, shutting the door heavily. She could hear Samantha and Monica softly arguing, but she didn’t pay attention.

  Instead, she headed to her desk, squeezed into her tiny bedroom. There were two bedrooms in the cramped apartment, and Claire won the coin toss to get the small one while the other two shared the larger bedroom opposite hers.

  At her desk, she turned on her laptop. Though it was a decent computer that ran well, she felt impatient as it set up. Her focus was on sending her published pieces to Professor Bertrand and hopefully impressing him with her work. If they weren’t well written, he wouldn’t bother helping her.

  At last, her laptop was ready and she immediately went online to her email account. Quickly typing in the professor’s address from the business card, she then created a simple message:

  Hi Professor,

  Thank you for being willing to look over my published work. Any help is much appreciated!

  Claire McCormick

  She read it over twice before deeming it decent enough to send it to an established writer. She then inserted the links in the email and with one deep breath, she clicked on Send. There. Now anything could happen.

  Still curious about the strange professor, she went to check out his personal website. Like his card, Daniel’s website was black with white writing. Divided into two uneven columns, the narrow one had a black and white side shot of him sitting at his desk, before a computer, doing some typing. Books and papers surrounded him, and he looked stern and deep in thought, more so than he did while they walked to the building where he taught.

  On the wider column of the website was greeting from Daniel Bertrand. In first person, he spoke simply of his education in England and New York. He also mentioned spending a semester in France where he perfected his French. The professor ended his greeting by saying how he used writing to work towards his mission to make people think and see the world differently.

  At the top of the website was the link that read “Articles.” Claire clicked on that, and her eyes nearly flew open when a page revealed a long list of about thirty or forty links to Daniel’s work. She certainly was dealing with the real thing.

  As she began to read the links, there was a knock at the door. It came a second time followed by: “Hey! I hope you’re not ignoring me!”

  “Come in, Sam” she called over her shoulder. Samantha opened the door, closed it and sat on the bed less than two feet away from Claire.

  “Listen. I’m sorry I got all bitchy with you. I know its not your fault that it’s hard to find work. I mean, I should be working as a financial analyst rather than pulling beer from tap four times a week, so who am I to put you down?” Samantha paused and Claire turned her head away from her computer screen. “So again, I’m really sorry. I’m scared like hell and I took it out on you. Maybe I can’t handle the pressure of being on my own and paying rent, like my parents told me. Maybe I should think about moving back to Long Island.”

  “No,” Claire turned her whole body towards her friend. “You can handle it, all three of us can. We’re just under a lot of pressure now and we have to work harder on living together on our own in this crappy world. I mean, it’s only been three months. And Vincent and Theresa have been very good to us, even though its because they have a mortgage to pay. There’s still plenty of time for us to find good paying jobs so we won’t have to struggle to make the rent and other bills.”

  “Yeah, I know. But I am honestly still scared.”

  “So am I. But we’ve got to stay optimistic if we want to do this. I mean, wasn’t that the plan? Not for me to go back to lousy New Jersey and for Monica not to go back to Texas? And to be on our own so we could prove it to ourselves that we are adults and not regress by moving back in with our families after graduation?” she nudged Samantha playfully in her upper arm.

  Sam smiled. “Yeah, I do not want to be treated like a kid again. After four years away from home, there was no way I was not going to give up my freedom.”

  “Same here. So, are we going to stick together?”

  “Yes, we are Miss Claire. Yes, we are.” Samantha leaned over and gave her a tight hug. “I promise I won’t take my frustrations out on you any more.”

  “Okay, I’ll remember that!” Samantha pulled away, smiling. She then noticed Claire’s laptop and saw the website she was looking at.

  “What’s that?” Samantha asked.

  “Oh, that professor I told you about?” She looked back at the computer screen. “I’m checking out his website with the links to all his work.”

  Samantha got up and peered over her shoulder. “Hmm. He’s got a nice portfolio there.”

  “I just sent him links to those articles I wrote. Hopefully he’ll think I did a good job and will help me out.”

  Samantha didn’t say anything at first; she appeared to be studying the website. When Claire examined what she was looking at, she saw her friend was looking at Daniel’s picture. “Looks deep in thought, right?”

  “Yeah, but he sure is hot looking!” Samantha said. “Maybe he could help you more ways than one?”

  Claire burst out laughing. Yes, the thought was on her mind, but unlike Samantha, she was never really vocal about her sexual interests. Her friend pretended to be offended and started to insist that the professor would make a good match – or at least a friend with benefits – for her. The good natured argument paused when there was another knock on the door, and Monica poked her head in. “Glad you two made up!”

  “Monica, come here,” Samantha motioned her over. “This is the professor Claire was telling us about. Isn’t he gorgeous?”

  Monica leaned in over Claire’s other shoulder. “He doesn’t look very friendly there, but its bad in a good way!”

  Claire giggled nervously. “I will not shit where I eat!”

  “Suuurre, you won’t,” came the response.

  “No really! He probably has a girlfriend already. A guy like him would.”

  More laughter came while Claire sat blushing. She was the most conservative of the three, always preferring to having sex while in a relationship rather than having one night stands, which wasn’t easy to do during the college years. Both Monica and Samantha were more open to casual encounters. Despite their friendship, those two always teased her for not being more sexually adventurous.

  “I swear, twelve years of Catholic school really warped you mind!” Samantha was saying.

  “You went to Catholic school too!” Claire weakly protested.

  “And I rid myself of all it’s brainwashing once I got to college! I have no shame!”

  “Really, Claire,” Monica said more calmly. “This professor may expect something in return for all that he’s doing f
or you.”

  Her eyes widened in horror, which made the two girls laugh again. “I will not be some hooch who sleeps my way to the top!”

  “Okay, but why not at least date him?” Monica squeezed her shoulder. “It’s been a while since you’ve seen anyone. And you could use someone better than those guys you dated back in college.”

  Claire pursed her lips together. She never chose the best boyfriends. Her first was someone who used her for sex, and even though she played along, she felt used. When she entered Richmond College, she dated a senior football player, who treated her as an object to hang on his arm. Her last boyfriend, who graduated a year ahead of her, decided to move to Los Angeles to pursue a film-editing career. The relationship ended badly since he only cared about himself in a near narcissistic way. That was a year ago, and since then, Claire had healed from her wounds, but being underemployed didn’t impress a lot of guys.

  Taking a deep breath, she said to her friends, “I’ll see what becomes of this. If there’s any chance of a relationship, I’ll definitely sleep with him.”

  “Okay, but you could still have fun with him before that!” said Samantha.

  “Okay, that’s it now! Out of my room, get out!” The two roommates left her bedroom still snickering, and she went back reading Daniel Bertrand’s website.

  As the night wore on, she repeatedly checked her email, and clicked on several of his links to read the professor’s articles. His topics might seem shallow to some, such as best places for singles in the Caribbean or how to a man could maintain a budget while wearing designer shoes to work, but he added depth to the stories that made them be more serious and important to the reader.

  She examined Daniel’s picture. Yes, he was very good looking. Why not try to date him? Sure, there was a chance Daniel might be taken, but perhaps she could make sure if he wasn’t? He was handsome in a peculiar way and he had the same interest in writing as she did. Claire didn’t know too many who enjoyed writing as much as she did. Most of her English Writing classmates wanted to be English teachers and were now in Monica’s master’s program. Few were interested in becoming professional writers. So here was a chance to get to know someone who liked what she liked. She just hoped he would be willing to share with her.

  She was reading one of his articles at about 10 PM, when her computer made a ringing sound, indicating she had email. Quickly she checked it, and sure enough, the professor had responded. Although he had emailed via his phone, it was nonetheless a message.

  I’ve read the first two articles you sent me. You do have promise as a writer, but as I told you before, you need to aim higher if you want to be a success. Let’s meet soon to go over ways of getting you more work.

  She let out an excited gasp and immediately typed back.

  Yes, I am free to meet up all day Friday and this weekend. What time is best for you?

  As soon as she hit Send, she raced out to the living room where her roommates were watching TV.

  “That professor got back to me!” Claire had to struggle to get all her words out and breathe at the same time. “He likes my work, he wants to help me and he wants to meet with me!”

  The two other girls started squealing, asking where she and Daniel were going to meet. When she told them she was waiting for his email, Samantha and Monica dragged her back into her computer where they all huddled around it to see if there was a response.

  How is Friday night? Are you able to come into the city? We could meet over coffee at about 7 PM.

  As she typed back – albeit with a lot of typos she had to fix – Claire felt herself burning with excitement. Not only was her writing career looking brighter, but maybe her personal life too.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “All ashore, all ashore!” The voice over the loudspeaker sounded as the Staten Island Ferry docked at Whitehall Terminal in lower Manhattan. Hundreds of its passengers began to file out.

  Claire was one of the last to leave. Before she got up from her seat, she checked her phone for the address of the coffee shop where she was to meet the professor. Running her fingers through her mid-length brown hair and taking a mental note of her casual appearance of jeans, flats and minimal make-up, she took a deep breath. Meeting with the professor to discuss her future was making her nervous rather than excited. Ever since that Tuesday, this meeting had been frequently on her mind as though the constant thinking would bring the moment sooner.

  She took the subway uptown, and arrived in TriBeCa where Daniel lived. Since she had a few minutes before the meeting, she took her time getting there. She wanted to take in everything around her because she loved being in the city. New York was the best place on earth. Even though she barely traveled to other parts of the world, she knew no other city could top it. The excitement and the energy vibrated through her whenever she went there, and she was in one of its more glamorous neighborhoods, where millionaires and celebrities lived. She had often daydreamed of living here growing up, and envied Daniel for having his own place in the area. He must have had a trust fund to afford a home in this place; freelancing and being an adjunct was far from enough to live here.

  After walking about three blocks from the station, Claire arrived at the shop. When she entered, she spotted him sitting in the back reading a newspaper, away from the more crowded seats where patrons drank their coffees while surfing the Web on their laptops. As she walked up to him, he glanced up and then looked at his watch. “Punctual. I like that,” he said as she slid into the chair opposite him.

  “Thanks. I hate being late for anything,” she smiled.

  “Would you like anything? Some water?”

  “Uh, no. Do they have cappuccino?”

  “Of course,” he motioned over a waitress. Claire felt stupid asking that. What coffee shop didn’t have cappuccino?

  After they gave their orders, she folded her hands on the table and waited. Should she say something first? She decided not to.

  “So,” Daniel cleared his throat as he put his phone on vibrate. “I read over your articles. They’re very good; they show potential. But as I told you before, you can’t be aiming for publications with low circulations. Its good to do it now, as you build your portfolio, but you should’ve done that before you graduated, just to be honest.”

  Claire felt her face flush with shame. Even her parents told her that.

  “But now since you’ve got six articles published, plus that internship, you can start to aim for newspapers and magazines that have better circulation, and better pay. Do you live at home?”

  “No, I live with two friends not far from the campus.”

  “Uh-huh.” She knew what he was thinking, and her unease grew. “Well, like I said, now is the time and I am here to help you.”

  She smiled. “Great. I take it you know a lot of people.” Should she have said that?

  Daniel didn’t seem to mind. He laughed a bit and said, “Well, yes. But you are not ready for most of them. They are the editors of the magazines I mentioned to you, and to write for them you must have a wealth of expertise. But I do know a few people at the major local publications. Here.” He dug his wallet out of his black denim jeans, produced a sheet of folded paper and gave it to her. On it, were the names of a few editors of the city’s large newspapers plus some that ran major New York magazines.

  “Since you said you want to write about art and culture, I figured you’d want to know someone at those magazines,” Daniel was saying.

  “Yeah, I do,” Claire said. Looking up at him, she smiled again. “Thanks so much for this!”

  “My pleasure, Claire, my pleasure.”

  Their orders arrived and as they began to drink the coffees, they discussed how to get the attention of those editors Daniel knew. He told her to use him as a reference and to grab the editors’ attention.

  “Do you find it unfair that its all about who you know in this industry?” she asked between sips.

  “Connections and nepotism have been around for ages. To
survive is not to complain but accept,” he said sternly. Claire nodded, feeling a bit foolish for her whining.

  Daniel went on to discuss the realities of the business, but she blocked him out. She had been sitting here for several minutes and she felt as if she was making a fool out of herself. How could this established writer be willing to help her? Oh, and chances of dating him were finished. A guy who lived in TriBeCa and wrote for major magazines would not want to help a lowly part-time office assistant…

  …suddenly, her mind cleared. Just like a light switch.

  Blinking twice, Claire felt shaken. What was she thinking about? Was she thinking about anything at all?

  Daniel was looking at her, eyebrows slightly raised.

  “A penny for your thoughts,” he said as he gulped down the last of his coffee.

  “Oh…I-I…nothing,” she stammered. Whatever it was she was thinking about, it was not weighing heavily on her shoulders.

  “I’m curious about something,” the professor said, leaning forward. “You mentioned you like art, and you’ve written two articles about art exhibits. My question is, what is it about art that you like it so much?”

  She didn’t want it to happen, but a smile spread across Claire’s face. Here was another of her favorite topics, which few shared with her. And here was someone wanting to discuss it with her.

  She started talking about how as a child, her parents took her to art museums in both New York and Philadelphia. She even took a few art history classes as electives.

  On and on she went about art. She was afraid she was rambling too much about it, but Daniel listened intently, inserting a few comments about art from time to time. When she mentioned her love for medieval tapestries due to their mysterious aura, the professor seemed impressed and asked which was her favorite.

  She paused from finishing her now-cold cappuccino. “I’ve been rambling on and on about this. You seem to like art too. What is your favorite period and who is favorite artist?”

  Thus, the meeting that was supposed to be about helping her find work as a freelancer turned into something deeper. They chatted not only about art, but also history, politics and religion. Claire was amazed by Daniel’s great knowledge about European history. It was as if he studied that instead of English. He also had deep views about politics, especially on the international level. He made more sense than any of the history or political professors she’d had at Richmond. One would’ve thought he wrote about that subject rather than lifestyle and culture as he often did. As for religion…