Something Fierce (18 page)

“Well, I forgot to turn my phone off and ah…”

“Oh no,” she giggled, “I’m sorry.”

“Really? Cause you don’t sound sorry. Don’t you have history now?”

“It was cancelled…and I’m all alone in this big house.” Kerri asked if he wanted to come over after his class and christen her bedroom. “I’ll even throw in a tour of the Engel estate. All you saw last time was the kitchen.”

“You and your tours,” he said.

“So is that a yes?” she asked.

“What will your mother say if she comes home and finds me there?”

“Probably something like, ‘Hello Seth! How are you?’”

“You’re a riot. Will she have a problem with it?”

“I am an adult, honey.”

“I know, but she’s still your mother and it’s still her house.”

“As long as we are fully dressed when she gets here, no problem. She told me to invite you anytime.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. In fact, you’re all she’s talked about for the past two weeks.” She continued in the high-pitched voice of an infatuated girl, “‘He’s so nice. He’s so handsome. He’s so well-spoken.’”

“What was she expecting,” he asked, trying to lighten up, relax, be his old self again, “mean, ugly, and inarticulate?”

“Speaks volumes of what she thinks of her daughter, doesn’t it? You are the most interest she’s shown in my life in years. She’s like a school girl always wanting the scoop. ‘So how’s Seth? What are you two doing tonight? When do I get to see him again?’”

“Yeah, well, I do have that effect on women.”

“Yes, you certainly do. Go finish your class, Professor, and then get your ass over here and fuck me.”

Walking back to the room, his mind was on fire with images of how he and Kerri were going to defile that bedroom. That is if they made it to the bedroom. He might, in fact, take her right there in the foyer. He was about to dismiss class early when he realized that he wasn’t tired anymore and suddenly felt himself channeling this surge of energy into the last part of his lecture. “It takes no imagination at all to approach a literary analysis as some dry, tedious requirement,” he said, picking up the anthology like a preacher brandishing a bible. “Find something in here that turns you on or pisses you off and
show
me how, show me
why
, let me see—for a few pages—hell for a couple of good paragraphs—what you see. I dare you to shock me. To surprise me. To give me something fresh.”

When the last minute ticked off the clock, he knew he had them, by God, and a good handful of them were going to take that challenge. And maybe, just maybe one of them might actually forget about their grade long enough to hit him in the gut with something raw and fresh, something as unique and singular as their DNA.

He was high when he left the classroom and that feeling carried him through the halls and across the campus. Completely revived, light on his feet, his senses were wide-open and he was soaking it all in: the cheerful and sullen faces of the students, the crispness of the air, the strange shadows cast over the courtyard by the bright, cold rays of the afternoon sun. Striding around and past a group of heavy-footed professors on their way to the faculty parking lot, Seth bade them a good afternoon, recognizing one of them as Kerri’s chemistry teacher, a guy she claimed she’d repeatedly caught trying to sneak a peek down her shirt. Who could blame him? Certainly not a guy who knew what was under that shirt.

He climbed into the SUV and rolled out of the parking lot and onto the highway gliding through the gears. He had no sooner un-silenced his phone than it went off. “Graham! What’s up?”

“I can’t take it anymore. This is the day, buddy. I’m quitting. No more golden shackles. I’m telling them to go to hell. I’m done, man. Done!”

Graham was a sales representative for a company in San Francisco that sold background music—not his own, that was against company policy—for television, radio, and Internet commercials. He absolutely loathed the job. He’d taken it seven years ago to save enough to break out on his own as a full-time musician. The plan was to be at the job two years, three max. “What happened?”

“You wouldn’t believe what they’re pulling now. This micro-managing bullshit—”

“Back up,” he said, still charged. “Are you quitting because they pissed you off today or because you’re ready to begin the next chapter?”

“I’ve been ready for years.”

“No, you haven’t. You’ve been talking about it for years. Not the same thing.”

“I’m ready, Hardy,” Graham said. “It took me a long time to get here, but I’m finally here. The CD is almost done. I’ve got a couple of acoustic gigs that are pretty much lined up.”

“So why not wait until the CD’s completely done and the gigs are for sure?”

“Because I hate it; I can’t do this anymore.”

“Sure you can. You’ve hated it for years. Meet up with some friends for happy hour, have a few drinks, get a new perspective, relax a little and hit it fresh tomorrow.”

“I don’t want to hit it fresh tomorrow. I don’t have to do this anymore and I’m not going to.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“Yes!”

“Positive?”

“Yes, dickhead! The decision is made. I am out.”

“Well, in that case, dickhead,” Seth said, “congratulations! It’s about goddamned time.”

Graham laughed. “Fuck you.”

“I mean it,” Seth said, grinning. “This is big. I’m excited for you.” He thought of the change his friend’s life was about to undergo. “Will you feel this strongly about your decision in a month from now?”

“Yes.”

“Two?”

“Hell, yes.”

“Then consider this. Instead of busting in there and telling them to go to hell, pick a date, a month from now, two, however long it will take you to really prepare for this mentally and financially…then leave the job cool and clear, ready for what’s next.”

“I am mentally prepared and I’ve been putting money aside for years.”

“Good. But you’re leaving a world of structure and certainty for one that’s going to be unstructured and uncertain. It’s going to be a blast for a while. You’re going to love it! And then it’s going to get scary and you’re going to have a whole lot of time on your hands. You’re going to start wondering if you made the right move and when you’ll be able to generate a decent income, and I can almost guarantee that you’ll be asking those questions prematurely and long before you will have an answer to either of them.”

“What are you saying?”

“Right from the get-go, buy yourself as much time as you can.”

“I’m not following you.”

“You live in a very expensive city and in a fairly expensive apartment. How important is it to live where you’re living? Could you move to a cheaper place that would still be comfortable? Maybe even a more affordable city, but one that would still feed you creatively.”

“I never really thought about moving. That might be a good idea.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” Seth pulled into the driveway at Kerri’s house and shut down the engine. “The point is that there’s no rush now that you’ve made the decision. You couldn’t do that before. But you’re there now. That’s done. Play it smart and set up the endgame. The job won’t suck nearly as bad now because you
know
you’re leaving. You’ll have a date set. Use the time wisely. Lay out a strategy. Do it however you want to…and in the meantime, collect a few more big, fat paychecks and set back as much of them as you can.”

“That makes sense.”

“Hell, yeah, it does. You’ve been waiting to make this move for years. Take the time to play it right. The more prepared you are, the better.” They discussed the CD a bit and a new song Graham was considering as a bonus track. Seth agreed to give him feedback before he put the finishing touches on it. “When you’re ready to release it, I’ll write a review.”

“Great. Shit. I have to get going. My soon-to-be ex-boss is looking for me.”

“Keep me posted.”

“I will. Thanks, man. Hey, how are things with the naughty student?”

“Naughty.”

“Have fun,” Graham said, adding, “Professor Lucky Bastard,” and hung up.

Seth went to the front door of Kerri’s place and knocked. When there was no answer, he opened the door and peeked inside. “Hey baby! Where are you?” Still no answer. He heard a television. He stepped inside the door. Sounds were coming from downstairs. “Kerri?”

He went down the steps. They opened up into a den. A huge flat screen was playing a soap opera. Kerri was sitting on one of two leather couches, her thumb moving rapidly over the keypad of her phone. She was half smiling when she turned her eyes to him. The smile slid off of her face leaving behind a look he found unrecognizable, an expression between expressions.

“Hey,” he said, reaching the bottom of the stairs. “Didn’t you hear me?”

“What took you so long?” she asked in a monotone.

“I had to finish class.” He looked at his wrist. His watch-less wrist. Shit. “My buddy, Graham, called on the way here. He was a little wound up; he’s chilled out now.”

“That’s nice,” she mumbled, looking back to the television. Since when did she watch soap operas? “What a responsible teacher and wonderful friend you are. How special it must be to be you.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad at you?” she asked, not taking her eyes from the screen.

“No clue. But you’re acting like it.”

Her phone went off. The first notes of a song he knew but couldn’t place. She checked the message, smiled, and started texting back.

“Who’s that?”

She didn’t answer.

He had a sudden, foreign urge to slap her. “I’m talking to you.”

“You’re sort of talking
at
me,” she said, absently sending off the text message and looking back to the television.

“What the hell is the matter with you?”

“What the hell is the matter with
me
?”

He felt like he’d stepped into an alternate reality where some slump-shouldered, lazy-eyed twelve-year-old had hijacked the body of the woman he came here to make love to. “Will you shut that thing off and look at me?”

She let out a theatrical sigh, shut the television off and looked at him like a bored child appeasing a parent’s ridiculous demand. “Better?”

“No, not really. Are you on something?”

She laughed. “Yeah, that’s it Seth. I’m a druggie. Did I forget to tell you that?”

“I guess so.” He turned and started up the steps. “When you pull your head out of your ass, give me a call.”

Her voice went up an octave. “You’re leaving?” She was instantly off of the couch.

“I didn’t come here for this.”

“No,” she screamed, “you came here for a piece of ass! Is this what happens when I don’t put out quick enough? You leave?”

He stopped in the middle of the staircase and turned to look at her. What the hell was going on here? She looked furious. Like she wanted to kill him. He was speechless.

Her phone when off again. The same ringtone. This time he remembered it: “Dirty” by Christina Aguilera. She silenced it without looking at the message and shoved it into her pocket. “I’m sorry,” she said, the anger in her voice turning suddenly to sorrow. “Don’t leave. Please.” She burst into tears. “Please, baby, please. I’m sorry. Please don’t go.”

Seth stood there, stunned, confused. Instinct took over then and he went to her and took her in his arms. “Kerri, what’s going on?”

“Please don’t leave me,” she said, sobbing now. “Please.” Her whole body was shaking; he felt her heart beating hard. He led her to the couch, held her, reassured her that it was all right, though he had no idea what
it
was. When she was mostly cried out, he whispered, “What’s wrong. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Please don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“You were. You were leaving me. Just because I was being a little bitchy you were throwing me away.”

“I wasn’t throwing you away.”

She wiped her eyes and looked at him. “That’s what it seemed like.”

He felt like he was talking to a small child. A little girl who’d woken up from a nightmare and needed to be reassured that the room wasn’t still crawling with poisonous snakes and spiders. He took a tissue from the end table and handed it to her. She blew her nose and threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly as if she were trying to hide.

Her whole body was tense. He eased back onto the couch, guiding her down with him, squeezing her shoulders, rubbing her back. When they came to rest with her on top of him, he felt her body begin to relax. She nuzzled her head into his chest. Her breathing grew deeper and slower, evened out and he realized that she’d fallen asleep. His arm was at an uncomfortable angle. Changing positions, however, might wake her up and he didn’t want to do that. He needed a few moments to process what the hell had just happened. How—in the short while since she’d called him—she had gone from playful and horny to distant, angry, crying uncontrollably, and now…
asleep?

His right arm was going numb as if one of the venomous spiders from the little girl’s dream were real after all and he’d been bitten. He shifted gently to relieve the pressure but when Kerri began to stir, he stopped moving. “Shhh,” he whispered and kissed the top of her head.

The way she’d been crying and begging him not to leave her reminded him of the night a few weeks ago when they’d had the last fire of the year. Her reactions had been so extreme and bizarre that night that he’d concluded there was some kind of trauma in her past and the sexual intensity of the moment had triggered it. He’d since broached the subject with her in several different ways—both directly and indirectly—and every time he came away with the feeling that he was wrong, that he’d jumped the gun, overreacted. Everyone had strange quirks. He was reading too much into things, overanalyzing, as he sometimes did. And there’d been no incidents since.

But here again was something strange. Very strange.

The prickling sensation in his arm was spreading to his shoulder and he was about to try moving again when Kerri stretched, moaned, smiled, and kissed his chest. She sat up and looked at him. “Thanks for putting up with me.” Before he could answer, she got to her feet, grabbed his left hand, and started pulling him to an upright position on the couch. “Come on! Let me give you the tour before we christen my bedroom.”