by J. Nichole
“I’ll be the best campaign manager at L.U. When are we going to tell Jennifer and Nicole?” I flip my syllabus over and start taking notes. “We’ll need their help with the campaign.”
“As soon as they get back I’ll fill them in.” Monica looks around. “They may be upset that I kept it a secret from them.”
I swat my hand in the air. “They’ll be fine. We have a list of things to do.” Monica looks at me and her giddiness fades when I say, “I Googled campaign requirements. We need a logo, a slogan, and list of things you’ll do as president.”
Monica laughs nervously. “A slogan? Things I plan to do?”
I look at Monica with my head tilted. “You haven’t put any thought into why you want to be president?” I scrunch my nose.
“Well, as a junior, I know that most of us should be looking for internships, and preparing for graduation. Outside of the career center and the career fair we don’t have many programs advocating for our careers.”
“Okay. That’s a start.” I tap my pen on my lap. “We also need to do a few fundraisers. We’ll need money for trinkets.” I put my hand through her ponytail. “And we’ll need to make sure you keep your hair done and outfits on point.”
Monica pulls away from my hand. “Hey, I’m running for president not Ms. L.U.”
I smirk. “People will judge you, regardless.”
We continue discussing campaign logistics while we wait for Jennifer and Nicole to come back. The whitespace of my syllabus is full of notes and ideas. When there isn’t a blank space remaining, I decide it’s probably time to get ready for my classes. I leave Monica in the living room while I attempt to focus on the first chapter of my Mass Media Methods book.
I made sure that I researched my professors on Rate My Professor before registering this semester. Most of them were highly rated, but surprisingly Dr. King didn’t have a single review associated with her. Now that we’ve met, it will be hard to go unnoticed in her class.
My door slams open and Nicole announces, “I’m in love.”
I look up at her with laughter building in my stomach until I realize her face is serious. “You’re serious?” She pulls my hand, leading me into the living room.
“Hold on, let me grab Monica and Jennifer,” Nicole says.
I sit on the couch with my feet propped up beneath me, waiting to hear Nicole’s latest conquest.
Nicole stands while we all sit on the couch. She pulls her phone out and passes it to us. “He is the epitome of sexy. The true definition of a gentleman. We spent almost every day together over the break.”
The guy in the picture draws me in, and I can’t even pass the phone back to Nicole. His green eyes are hypnotizing and the dimple in his smile makes him seem innocent. Although he looks to be much older than us, he doesn’t look intimidating.
Monica groans. "I was going to share the news with you all, but this is much more interesting right now."
I look at Monica then back to the phone. “You can share after Nicole fills us in on all the details. When did you meet him?”
Jennifer snags the phone from me and says, “If I had to guess, I would say he is in his thirties.”
Nicole rolls her eyes but continues. “We met at the airport. I bumped into him at baggage claim.” Her eyes gleam as she describes how he approached her. “We exchanged numbers and he called before I even left the airport. He doesn’t live too far from my parents so we met up almost every day.”
We all sit stunned. Nicole's not the settling down type. As many guys as she has gone through, I was starting to think she would never fall in love. "I'm genuinely happy for you, Nicole." Monica agrees, jumping up to give Nicole a high five and a hug. "What about now that you are back at school? Plan on keeping in touch?"
Nicole giggles. “Yes, he promised he would keep in touch and probably even come down for a visit.”
Jennifer cackles. “But really how old is he?”
Nicole exhales and looks sternly at Jennifer. “He’s thirty-two.”
I balk at his age, but quickly recover and say, “That’s not too old I guess.”
Monica stands beside Nicole. “Okay sit down. My turn to share some news.”
Monica shares that she’ll be running for junior class president and asks the girls if they’ll be willing to help with the campaign. “I’m in, and I could get the girls in L.O.S. to help too.” Jennifer clicks around on her phone then says, “Wait, can I share the news with them or is it too early?”
Monica looks to me and I respond, “Probably too early to give them full details. But we could use their help with fundraising.”
Jennifer smiles and says, “Got it.” Nicole agrees to help and we start throwing out fundraising ideas.
My phone dings with a message and I smile and head for my room when I see Chris’ name.
Chris: I need a kiss before I go to bed.
The girls scream at me, "What? How are you just going to leave us hanging like that?"
Laila: Your place or mine?
Chris: I’m almost at yours
I ignore the girls and examine myself in my bathroom mirror. With the pillow marks across my face I look like I just woke up from a deep sleep. I splash water on my face and rub my fingers through my hair combing over the mess on top of my head.
Chris calls and asks me to meet him outside. He's leaning against his car door, and when he looks up, the smile that sends quivers over my body spreads across his face. He signals me to come closer and without speaking he grabs my face between his hands and kisses me. I wrap my hands around his and deepen the connection. My nipples harden against his chest and I maneuver myself between his legs feeling his manhood press strongly against my thighs. Soft moans escape between him yanking at my bottom lip and his tongue darting in and out of my mouth.
He pulls away and leans his head against the car. “I promised myself I wouldn’t do more than kiss you.”
I chuckle. “But why?”
He locks his gaze with mine and I can see his restraint. “I won’t want to stop until I’ve worked your body over.” Rubbing his finger across my nipple he continues, “Every inch of your body.”
Leaning into his touch I whisper, “And why is that a problem?”
Smiling he says, “Can’t be worn out on your first day of class tomorrow.”
“Damn class. Whether you come up and work me over or leave me high and dry, I won’t get any sleep tonight.”
He rubs his hand between my thighs and kisses me softly on my lips. "High and wet. Goodnight babe."
Chapter Nineteen
“Ms. Jackson, do you have an answer?” Not only is the professor staring at me knowingly, but my classmates are all gawking.
The girl beside me whispers, “Mind and behavior.” I look at her and my eyes narrow.
I straighten in my seat and respond. “Mind and behavior.”
My professor shakes his head. "Glad you are listening to her. Now for the rest of the class please listen to me." He walks back to the whiteboard and begins drawing a pyramid. The pyramid looks vaguely familiar from the little reading I did finish last night. "You should all familiarize yourself with this diagram. Along with the reading of chapter two for our next class."
I head for the door, but the professor stops me. “Ms. Jackson, can I have a moment?” He stands firmly as I walk towards him. We are eye to eye as I stand and wait for him to speak. His eyes narrow and the hard lines around his eyes crinkle. “Ms. Jackson, I expect today will not be a recurrence in my classroom.” He pauses for my response but I let him continue. “I need all my students prepared for class ahead of time. Discussions will be interactive.” He grabs a paper from his desk and holds it in front of me. “In case you didn’t read the syllabus.”
I nod my head and say, “Yes sir, I understand. I’ll be prepared.” I turn to walk away, then the professor calls after me.
“Tell Chris I said hello.” I turn back towards the professor and he is grinning from ear to ear.
On my way to the journalism building I stroll through the hill and find a crowd of people gathered around the Greek trees. Jason is among the Ques hopping and chanting. I find my way through the crowd and hope I can catch him before my next class starts.
Jason walks up to me and throws up his arms for a hug. I don’t hesitate before he wraps me up and whispers, “Hopefully Chris won’t mind.”
“I don’t think he will.” I stand back and look at him in his camouflage pants, gold boots, and purple Polo. “Now hopefully this semester you can get back in your books.”
He bows his head. “Sorry about last semester.” He wraps his arm around my shoulder. “I didn’t mean to stand you and Danielle up on the final.”
“Did you pass?”
He looks at me and rolls his eyes. “Just barely.”
Looking down at my phone, I break away from Jason and say, “I have to get over to the Journalism building. Don’t be a stranger.”
My Mass Media Methods class is packed, mostly with faces of strangers. I find a seat and pull out my notebook. I have to be more attentive in this class. The girl beside me begins to speak, “Hey, aren’t you on the newspaper staff?”
I look up and notice one of the juniors from the paper and smile at her familiar face. "Yes, I'm horrible with names but I think we've met before."
She nods. "Don't worry. My name is Stephanie. Aren't you a sophomore?"
“I’m Laila, and yes I’m a sophomore. I had to ask Dr. King to let me in this class to fill my schedule.”
She nods her head then scribbles her number on a piece of paper. “Here, if you need help through this class we can connect.” Dr. King walks through the door as I mouth ‘thank you’ to Stephanie.
Dr. King jumps right into the lecture without taking roll or acknowledging the students in their seats or those still walking through the door. She asks those who have social media accounts to raise their hands. My hand shoots in the air, and she says, “Those with more than one account keep your hands raised.” She glances around the room then proceeds, “I want those of you with a social media account to de-activate them for at least a week.”
Gripes and moans escape most of us in response. One guy asks, “All of my accounts?” She shoots him a glaring acknowledgment.
“For a week, I want you to seek newsworthy content outside of what’s being fed to you by social media.” She grabs her phone and a newspaper. “For our first week we will be learning how peer perspectives can influence our copy.” She flips open the newspaper and reads a headline aloud, “Tallahassee hotels caught charging black tax.”
We discuss the perspectives of the story and together write a different copy based on the feedback we provide. Then she looks at her phone and reads aloud tweets related to the headline. “As you can tell, a majority of the people I follow disagree with the black tax. How do you think the perspective of my article would be impacted?”
She returns to the whiteboard and begins to write, and then after discussing our next assignment class is dismissed. I linger at my desk until the room is clear, leaving me alone with Dr. King.
She smiles at me and says, “How was your first class?”
“Not too bad, but I’ll confirm that after I receive the grade on my first assignment.” Before leaving out the door I stop and my shoulders slump. “How’s Professor Douglas?”
Her smile disappears and she shakes her head. “He isn’t doing well, Laila. You should consider visiting him.” I look away from her, avoiding eye contact. “Don’t let me pressure you, Laila. It’s your call. I’ll keep you posted on his behalf.” I nod my head then walk out the door.
The Journalism building was once a place of solace for me, but now I leave as soon as my classes end. When I pass the atrium, it’s packed and laughter escapes from the door. I slow my steps to take a peek inside and recognize a few faces.
Evan looks up from his laptop and waves at me. I wave back and before turning to leave he waves me over to him. “Can you come here for a second?”
I hesitate before walking towards him. I hover over him and he points at his computer screen. "I know you have your assignment for Friday's paper," he looks up to me with droopy eyes. "I think we need to start a campaign series that will follow the process up until the elections in a couple of months."
My heart sings, and before responding, I think of all the ways I can get the inside scoop for Monica. Evan interrupts my thoughts, “You don’t like the idea.” His top lip curves up.
I hunch my shoulders and say, “I suppose I can do that.” I have to hide my enthusiasm but my insides are dancing.
He gives me a thumbs-up and continues scrolling on his laptop. “I’ll send you a link to all the student government regulations.”
“Thanks.” Before Evan attempts to outline my article I leave him scouring the net.
My car is surrounded by a couple of cops, and as I get near, one of them stares me down. “Is there a problem?”
The cop points to my car and says, “Is this your car?”
I nod my head and say, “Yes.” My eyebrow rises as I wait for the cop to explain why they are surrounding my car.
“This car was reported stolen.” My mouth drops and I don’t hear anything else he says. I bend my head around him and examine the car. Yes, that's my car. I pull my keys from my purse and click my doors unlocked.
“And I assume it’s not in your name? Just give us your license and registration.”
I pull out my wallet and hand the over-zealous cops my license. “My registration is in the glove compartment.” The cop steps out of my way and I walk toward the car and open the passenger door. As I’m reaching for my registration, my heart starts pounding. Who could have reported my car stolen?
I hand my registration to the cop, and after examining it, he hands it back to me. “Sorry for the confusion. We’ll have to track down the reporter. False claims carry a consequence.” He looks me over as if sending me a warning.
I smile and say, “I hope he or she doesn’t try to pull this stunt again.” Before they walk away I say, “I recently had my tires slashed and I can only imagine the same person probably pulled this prank.”
The cop narrows his eyes and writes in his notepad. "If we do find this person and can get them to the station I'll be sure we ask about your tires." A smile escapes and he clears his throat. "If anything else happens please let us know."
I let the cops clear the area before I climb in the car. I’m already late for the first fundraising event at Sankofa Lounge for Monica’s campaign, but I’m tempted to find Chris and unload my angst with him. If this is truly Courtney doing all these things, then there’s only one person who can get her to stop.
All the seats in Sankofa are filled, and the first entertainer is on stage pouring out her spoken word. I find the girls sitting near the stage. Monica gives me a nervous look when I sit beside her. “Where have you been?” she whispers.
Rolling my eyes, I tell her, “I have to give you details later.”
She looks at me knowingly and turns back to the stage. The next girl takes the stage and begins her monologue about a black pearl lost deep in the ocean. I stop listening when she starts swaying, demonstrating the motion of the waves.
Monica looks at us after her name is called to go on stage. Her poem is supposed to be her introduction. We discreetly want to start the buzz about her before campaign season begins. Nicole and I helped her write the poem, and Jennifer taught her a few tips to help her be at ease while on stage.
She closes her eyes and begins, “I was a little girl playing along the gulf shores of Alabama.” By the time she releases the last word of her prose, I’m in awe. Her eyes are wide open and her shoulders carry the confidence to conquer the world. We stand and give her a round of applause as she joins us back at the table.
“How’d I do?” She looks at us with her shoulders hunched.
“You fucking rocked it!” Nicole blurts out. Jennifer and I nod feverishly in agreement.
The manager of Sankofa finds us at the end of the event and we arrange a time to collect the funds from the night. As we walk to my car I’m reminded of my encounter with the cops earlier.
“Sorry for being late to the event. I had to prove to the cops that my car wasn’t stolen.” Monica’s eyes bulge and her mouth hangs open.
“What do you mean?” She looks at me in disbelief. “Why would the cops think your car was stolen?”
I smirk. “Apparently someone reported it stolen. I can only guess it was Courtney.”
Monica covers her mouth as she laughs loudly. “You are joking? How is she getting away with this nonsense?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. But I need to talk to Chris. He’s the only one who can stop the madness.” I open my car door and sigh. “I’ll see you a little later. We need to plan our next fundraising event.”
Monica hugs me and whispers in my ear, “Thank you. For everything.”
I shrug her off of me and say, “It’s nothing.”
Guys are crowded in front of the frat house but I don't let that deter me. I walk past them and knock on the door. Someone yells out, "Chris is inside, you can just go in." I indulge him and walk through the door, straight to Chris' room.
The door is wide-open but Chris isn’t inside. I reach for my phone out of my purse and dial his number. I hear the phone vibrating nearby. I peep out the door, down the hall but I don't see him. I sit on his bed and replay the events of the day through my memory.
I hear a commotion outside, but I don't move until I hear a girl's voice screaming. Looking out the window I see Chris standing face to face with Courtney. I run outside the house and before I can get to Chris, my arm is snatched. I turn to see Sean pulling me away. "What are you doing?"
“Laila, ol’ girl is crazy. You may want to stay back.” I turn to see guys rushing towards Chris and others running into the house.
“What’s going on?” I try to get closer to Chris, and he turns towards me.