by Ward, Alice
“We agreed on today’s session time without involving the Student Services office,” he reminded me, his eyebrow lifting in suspicion.
“I wanted to see how you did on the outlines before I work out the long term schedule,” I fudged, proud of my quick thinking.
“I see… so I passed your test?”
I rolled my eyes and heaved out a long, put-upon sigh. “I guess you can look at it that way. I needed to see that you’re serious about buckling down and concentrating on the work. You proved that you are. We’ve run late now, and I need to get back to my room. You should have the email from Sidra early tomorrow afternoon.”
“Alright. What happens if I can’t make it to a session? Like, if I get sick or something. Do I contact you or the office?”
“You can contact the office. They’ll get the message to me.” I stood and slung the strap of my bag over my shoulder.
“Oh wait, I almost forgot. I have a check for the food drive.” He pulled a sealed envelope from his backpack and handed it to me. “And I’m sure that the guys will be more than happy to help on donation day.”
“Thank you, Jackson. The kids will really appreciate everything. I’ll see you soon.”
“I’d walk you out, but I’m going to stick around and study for a while. Have a good night, Kennedy.”
“You too.” I walked out of the cubicle and left the library without a backward glance to see if Jackson was watching.
***
“I’m not going,” I announced to Lauren. It was Wednesday afternoon, the day of the frat party, and I was determined to spend the night at home in my pajamas.
“You have to go, Kennedy,” she insisted.
“Why? Because he wrote us a huge check? That’s the main reason I don’t want to go! Nobody donates that much money so casually. He’s expecting something in return and I’m not going to give it to him.”
“Kennedy, regardless of Jackson’s motivations, we’re going to be able to sponsor another school with his money. Ten thousand dollars will go a long way to help the kids. Can’t you just put a smile on your face and act grateful?”
The week before, I’d come home from the library with Jackson’s check still sealed in the envelope. Lauren and I had opened it together. She’d squealed in delight when she saw the amount, but I’d nearly had an anxiety attack. I didn’t know what Jackson expected in return for the money and I was in no hurry to find out. We’d had two more tutoring sessions since then, but neither of us mentioned the check.
I sighed. “I guess I can go… for the kids. If Jackson’s fraternity brothers are half as generous as he is, there’s no telling how many schools we’ll be able to sponsor. But I’m kind of nervous that we’re setting the kids up for disappointment. Think about it Lauren, Jackson’s money will help a lot of them this year, but what happens next year when he’s not around to write a huge check? How will we decide which kids to keep helping and which we have to drop from the program?”
“What makes you think Jackson won’t be around next year?” she asked. “Is he not doing well in your sessions? Do you think he’s going to fail his finals?”
“No, I think he’s going to get caught up in time to pass. I just don’t expect to see much of him next year. And I seriously doubt he’ll keep making donations to our drives once he realizes it’s not going to get him anywhere with me.”
“Kennedy, I love you, but right now you sound like an ungrateful, self-absorbed bitch,” Lauren said bluntly.
“What?”
“It’s true. Jackson made an incredibly generous donation and it’s going to help hundreds of kids. I know he’s been flirting with you, but that doesn’t mean he wrote that check just to get in your pants. You’ve read the same articles about his dad as I have. You know how much money he donates to charity. Maybe Jackson takes after him more than you thought.”
I was silent for a few moments. Lauren’s words stung, but I knew that she was right. I’d gotten so caught up in my dislike for Jackson that I’d forgotten about what was really important. Regardless of Jackson’s motives, his donation would make a huge difference in a lot of children’s lives. The least I could do was put aside my reservations about him and say thank you.
“Fine, I’ll go to the party,” I relented. “You’re right, it’s an important night for FLA. I should be a part of it. And I’ll thank Jackson for his check.”
“Great, now all we have to do is figure out what we’re going to wear.”
“What’s wrong with what we have on now?” I asked.
Lauren laughed. “Kennedy, we can’t wear old jeans and sweatshirts to a frat party! We have to look nice, maybe even a little sexy. And you’re wearing makeup tonight too, don’t even try to argue with me about it.”
I almost growled. I hate wearing makeup. It’s one of the few things my mother and I have in common. When I was a little girl, I was fascinated by the beautiful colors I saw on other mothers’ faces. When I started junior high, I begged my mom to let me wear makeup like all of the other girls. It went against all of her feminist principles, but she gave in and took me to the Clinique counter for my thirteenth birthday. The sales lady helped me choose the right products and showed me how to apply everything. I loved the way it looked, but I hated the way it felt on my skin. I also hated how much time it took to put on every morning. Two weeks later, I stuck everything in a drawer and forgot about it. Now, I only wear makeup when Lauren puts her foot down.
“Fine, I’ll let you do my makeup if you let me choose my own clothes. I don’t want to look like I’m there to party. It needs to be clear that we’re representing FLA.”
“No deal,” Lauren said. Damn, she had that look in her eye. I knew I was screwed. “You’ve got to loosen up, Kennedy. We’re going to a frat party, not a business meeting. We’re going to mingle, have a great time, and work the food drive into conversations. I’ve talked to the others and they agree with me, so don’t bother arguing about this either.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but she rolled off her bed and threw open our closet door. “I’ve already chosen our outfits,” she continued, pulling out two sets of black slacks and two tops. “I thought the green halter would look fantastic on you. It’ll make your eyes pop.”
“It’s too cold to wear a halter top,” I argued.
“So wear a jacket, Kennedy,” she replied impatiently.
I was tired of arguing with her. Lauren was stubborn when she set her mind to something and I knew the night would go more smoothly if I gave in and did what she wanted.
“That is a pretty color,” I said, fingering the silky emerald top. “And I guess it wouldn’t kill me to try and have a good time.”
“That’s the spirit,” she laughed. “You know, maybe Jackson will surprise you tonight. I think he wrote that check because he really does care about the work we’re doing. He’s gorgeous and he’s obviously interested in you, so I’m having a hard time understanding why you won’t give him a chance. Are you intimidated by his money?”
Was I? “Maybe a little,” I confessed. “Jackson and I are from two completely different worlds. There’s no way I’d fit in with his family or their high society friends. I’m not the kind of woman guys like that marry. I’m the kind they have fun with until it’s time to settle down with a proper debutante.”
“Who said anything about getting married?” Lauren asked.
“I’m just saying I’m not interested in a meaningless relationship.”
“And I’m saying that you’d be a much happier, more relaxed person if you got laid every now and then. Really Kennedy, how long has it been?”
“I don’t know, that’s not really something I keep track of.”
That was true. It’s not that I don’t like sex, but in my experience it comes with a lot of baggage that I just don’t have the patience for. I’d only had one serious relationship in my life, and it had been in high school. His name was Patrick Johnson and the two of us were co-captains of the Debate Team. When w
e graduated, he accepted a scholarship at Stanford and I stayed behind in Boston. Our relationship fell apart quickly and it broke my heart. When I finally put myself back together, I decided to avoid relationships completely until I finished law school. I’ve had a couple of ill-advised one-night stands since then and I regret them both.
“I wish I could forget how long it’s been.” Lauren sighed. Like me, she’d been going through a long dry spell in the bedroom. Unlike me, she wasn’t content with it.
“Well, maybe you’ll meet someone tonight.”
“That’s another reason I need you to try and have a good time,” she replied, brightening a bit. “I need a wingman. Can you loosen up and act our age just for tonight?”
“I’ll do my best,” I promised.
***
At a quarter to eight, Lauren and I met Becky, Lewis, and Steve near the Sigma Chi house.
“You look amazing,” Steve told me as we approached. “You do too, of course, Lauren. I guess I’m just not used to seeing Kennedy all dressed up.”
“Thanks,” I said and fiddled with my hair. “I just sat in a chair and let Lauren do whatever she wanted. You all look nice too. Are any of you as nervous about this as I am?”
Lewis laughed. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Steve and I aren’t exactly the frat house type. But I think we’ll raise a lot of money for the kids, and that’s all that’s important.” Lewis and Steve are both math majors; they belong in a frat house even less than I do. They’re both attractive guys, but their brilliant minds intimidate most people and they’re a bit awkward in social situations.
“I think we’re going to have a blast,” Becky said as we approached the house. A trio of guys sat on the porch and my stomach tied in knots as we walked up the stairs.
“Hi!” Lauren greeted them with a smile. “I’m Lauren and this is Kennedy, Becky, Lewis, and Steve. Jackson Montgomery invited us.”
“Yeah, you’re the FLA people. Monty told us he’d invited you. I’m Rory and this is Mark and David. Go on inside, get a drink, and make yourselves comfortable.”
“Thanks,” Lauren replied. She pushed open the front door and we filed into the house. I’d expected the interior to resemble something from Animal House, but I was pleasantly surprised. The historical home had been expertly restored and faithfully maintained. The polished oak staircase, ornate rugs, and black and white photographs in the entry room made it feel like we’d stepped back in time.
Large doorways sat on either side of the massive entry room. One led to the living area, the other to the kitchen. Jackson stood at the top of the staircase and smiled when he saw us.
“You made it,” he called out as he bounded down the stairs. “I’m glad you’re here, I’ve already talked to everyone and they’re on board to help at the donation sites. Let’s get some drinks and I’ll introduce you to people. Most of the brothers will pull out their checkbooks the moment they hear FLA, but some of the other guests may need the full pitch. Did you bring your flyers?”
“I have some in my purse, but we weren’t planning on passing any out. We don’t want to come across as pushy, everyone’s here to relax and party after all,” Lauren replied.
“Let’s set the flyers on the drink table,” Jackson suggested. “People can take the information if they want and you all can concentrate on collecting money and having a good time.”
“Perfect,” Lauren agreed.
We followed Jackson to the kitchen. The drink table was set up against the back wall and held a bowl of punch along with a variety of hard liquor and drink mixes.
“There’s beer and soft drinks in the ice chests,” Jackson explained, gesturing to the massive coolers under the table. Drinking on campus is technically prohibited, but the rule isn’t really enforced unless someone gets out of control. The campus is surrounded by college bars so if students want to drink, they will. The administration has an unwritten attitude that it’s safer for students to drink on campus than drive back to campus intoxicated.
“I think I’ll just have some punch,” I said, filling a red plastic cup with ice.
“The punch is deceptively strong,” Jackson warned.
“That’s exactly how we like it,” Lauren said as she took a glass of her own. Becky poured herself a double shot of Crown and retrieved a Coke from one of the ice chests. Lewis and Steve stuck to Bud Light longnecks. Lauren arranged the FLA flyers around the table and then we followed Jackson to the living area.
As we moved through the house, I was surprised by the attention I was getting from Jackson’s frat brothers. I’d never in my life felt so many eyes on me and I wasn’t sure how to react. It made me uncomfortable, but I didn’t want to seem awkward.
Jackson moved around the room and introduced us to everyone. As he’d promised, as soon as he mentioned FLA they all pulled out checks and told us how excited they were to help out on donation day. We spent the next hour collecting donations and hearing stories of what our food drive meant to different fraternity members. Two had mothers who taught in the Boston Public School System. They told us how their moms cut coupons and held rummage sales to make sure the lower income kids had school supplies and basic necessities like shampoo and laundry detergent. Another fraternity brother told us about his father, who works as a physician at the Department of Human Services. He’d gone to medical school with hopes of becoming a plastic surgeon. But after an E.R. internship at a hospital in the poorer side of town, he’d changed his mind and dedicated his career to public service. I found it heartwarming that some of the brothers understood the importance of our cause first hand.
As we mingled, Jackson kept our drinks full and soon I was filled with a happy warmth. As usual, we hadn’t looked at the amount of the checks, but I was confident we’d raised more at the party than at any of our past events. Jackson approached me with my third glass of punch and I pulled him to the side of the room.
“Could we go somewhere and talk?” I asked with a smile.
“Of course,” he replied. “We can go up to my room, or we can step out on the porch. It’s nice out tonight, and I think the swing is empty.”
I didn’t trust myself to be alone in a bedroom with him. I wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or seeing him so at ease at the frat house but suddenly, I found myself incredibly attracted to Jackson. “Let’s go outside, I could use the fresh air. But NO swinging, it’ll make me sick.”
“The porch it is,” he said with a smile. He put a hand on the small of my back and led me out of the house. “So what do you want to talk about?” he asked.
“I owe you an apology,” I said as I stared into his piercing blue eyes. “You were right, I had a preconceived notion of who you were before we met. I can see now that I was wrong and I’m sorry I judged you.”
“Apology accepted,” he replied with a grin. “I don’t blame you for thinking I’m a spoiled brat. That’s what most people expect from me. But I appreciate that you’re willing to admit that you’re wrong. I guess I was wrong about you too. I’m sorry as well.”
“Clean slate?” I asked him.
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“You’re kind of sending me mixed signals, Kennedy,” he said slowly. “Last week you insisted we maintain a professional, student tutor relationship. Tonight, you showed up here looking like you’re going out on a hot date. What gives?”
I laughed. “Lauren insisted on dressing me and doing my hair and makeup,” I explained. “I was going to wear jeans and a sweatshirt. I’m glad she corrected me, I’d have been sorely underdressed,” I said, gesturing to his slacks and blazer.
“I don’t mean any offense, Kennedy, you do look amazing, but I think I prefer you without all of this makeup. You don’t look like yourself tonight.”
I laughed. “No offense taken, it’s actually refreshing to hear that. I think my mom would like you.”
He leaned in closer and gave me a suggestive smile. “Are you saying that you want to int
roduce me to your mom?”
I blushed against my will. “Not exactly, I was just making an observation. Though while we’re on the subject of parents I have to tell you how happy I am to see that you take after your dad.”
He backed away a bit. “What are you talking about?”
“That check you wrote. It’s obvious that you inherited your dad’s generous spirit. I can tell you now, after you quoted your grandfather during our first session I was afraid that you had taken after him. I’ve read every business profile written about your family. I know that Jackson the First is a shrewd businessman, but he doesn’t come across as a very warm person.”
Jackson’s jaw clenched and I knew I’d just stuck my foot in my mouth. “My grandfather is a brilliant man,” he said defensively. “And my father is a god damned fool. He’s prancing around the world giving away the fortune that my grandfather spent their whole lives building. I’ll be lucky if there’s a company left for me to take over once it’s my turn. I love my dad, Kennedy, but make no mistake about it, I’m nothing like him.”
I was stunned. “But your donation was so generous. And you talked the entire house in to helping at the drop-off sites,” I replied in confusion.
“Kennedy, I have to give away a certain amount of money every year for tax reasons,” Jackson explained impatiently. “I’m happy that it’s going to such a good cause and I’d be glad to donate the same amount to every food drive. But it wasn’t some sort of altruistic gesture. It was business. As for getting the guys to help, I knew that would make you happy. I like you, and I want to make you happy.”
“So you don’t really care about the kids at all,” I said harshly.
“Of course I care about the kids,” he said in defense. “I can’t imagine what it’s like to not know where your next meal is coming from and no one should have to go through that. I just don’t want to be pigeonholed in with my father. And I will NOT tolerate hearing anything negative about my grandfather. I admire that man more than anyone else on the planet and I don’t give a damn what the profiles say about him. Everything he does, he does for a reason.”