Carrie sits up when Gail says this. The teasing expression has left her face, and she suddenly seems serious.
“Truth? An unwanted ‘admirer’ is like an unwanted pregnancy. I haven’t been busting my butt in college to get all entangled with some guy—I’m here for an education. If I were a man, people would call me career--focused. But instead, I’m, what? A tease? A heartbreaker?”
Before Gail can comment, the door opens. Jenny. Her face brightens when she finds them all in the room.
“Hey, sorry that took a while. The professor was there and we started talking. Hi, Haley.”
Carrie and Gail are already off the bed.
“Why don’t we head out? Give your roommate some privacy,” Carrie says.
Jenny nods, and the three of them walk out the door.
“See you, Haley,” Gail says.
Haley waves to them, closing her eyes in relief.
Although now, sleep isn’t really a possibility.
. . .
When his masterpiece nears the lip of the can, Exley tops it with a bag of ice. Then, he tests.
He dips a red cup, the ladle of the evening. He drinks. They watch, but he is unreadable as ever. He drinks again, a quenching pull that drains the cup. He looks at them.
“We’re in business,” he announces.
They fall upon it.
Cups brimming, cool and sweet. They drink, long and deep. It courses down their throats and spreads warmly: up their spines and across their shoulders, their necks, the backs of their heads. Behind their eyes. The room changes. Everything moves to a new rhythm.
. . .
10
Richard
The man leaning against the Audi parked outside Taylor House doesn’t need to introduce himself. Jordan’s resemblance to his uncle is uncanny.
“Excuse me, are you Richard Brandt?” He wears khakis and a black Polo shirt. The mallet--wielding horseback rider on the left side of the chest is purple.
Richard has finished classes for the day. This is when he usually returns to the house, changes, and goes for a run.
Uncle Hard--ass was the last thing he expected to find waiting for him.
“Uh, yeah,” Richard says.
The man extends his hand. “Bruce Bockus,” he says. “I’m Jordan’s uncle. I hope you don’t mind my dropping by un-expectedly. I wonder if we could talk? Somewhere private?” Uncle Bruce’s grip is firm. A little too firm.
“Where’s Jordan?”
“He’s in class. He won’t be joining us.”
Richard shifts his weight from one foot to another. “Does Jordan know you’re here?”
“He told me where I could find you.”
“Yeah. Well.” Richard glances at his watch. “I don’t have a lot of time. I was about to go running, then I have to grab some dinner before math tutoring.”
Uncle Bruce puts up both hands, palms facing out. “I just need a few minutes.”
Richard breathes out heavily. “I guess we can talk in the common room. Usually no one’s around this time of day.”
“As long as it’s private,” Uncle Bruce says.
Richard presses his lips in a thin line. “It’s as private as we’re going to get.” He has no intention of inviting this guy up to his room.
The first floor common area is empty. Richard leads Uncle Bruce to a couple of armchairs in a back corner. It’s sunny, and in full view of the entrance. They sit.
“I understand Jordan has told you about what’s going on,” Uncle Bruce begins.
Richard nods but doesn’t say anything.
“Jordan tells me you might have some concerns. In case you’re asked any questions.”
Richard decides to cut through the bullshit. “Mind telling me why you’re here?” He knows how this sounds. He doesn’t care. He’s annoyed.
He’s been annoyed all day, actually. Most of last night, too. After Jordan left, he had trouble sleeping. He had trouble thinking about anything but their conversation, turning it over and over in his mind, imagining things he’d rather not.
It had been a hookup, right? That’s how Jordan described it. He could picture it: dark, loud, crowded, everybody wasted on whatever Exley had mixed that night. It’s how these parties rolled, every weekend. The expectations were clear, the music predictable, the outcomes mutually satisfying. For guys and girls alike.
What went wrong? Because happy hookups don’t end with someone crying rape.
He’s sorry Jordan ever mentioned it. He feels lucky that he was at Carrie’s that night and never stepped foot in the Conundrum party.
So why does he feel like he’s getting sucked into the black hole of Jordan’s mess?
Uncle Bruce laughs. “Fair enough,” he says, but his expression has changed. Politeness has been replaced by something hard--edged.
“Because I’m not involved,” Richard says. “I wasn’t around the night this happened. I just live in the same house as Jordan. Along with twenty other guys. So what’s up?”