Harvard Hottie (14 page)

Sophie’s eyes light up and I know we’ve got the next hour covered.

***

Luke is with his father for nearly two hours. In that time, I’ve managed to see every photo of him from birth through age eighteen. He comes out of his father’s bedroom looking exhausted and then seems slightly horrified when he sees all the photo albums. “Mom,” he says, “what have you been doing to poor Ellie?”

“She asked,” Sophie says defensively.

I shrug and Luke just seems too tired to pursue the matter further. “I guess we should go,” he says.

“We’re not staying for dinner?” I ask.

Luke makes a face. “There are five steps to the dining room. My father’s rule is that if I can’t climb those five steps on my own, I can’t stay for dinner. So I think we’ll leave.”

“Oh, Luke,” Sophie murmurs. “We can eat in the living room. The truth is, your father can’t climb those stairs anymore either. He’s too weak.”

“I think we’re going to go anyway,” Luke says. “We’ll just grab dinner on the way home.”

“If you want, sweetheart,” Sophie says, looking extremely disappointed. It’s so obvious that disability or not, Sophie worships the ground her son walks (or wheels) on. “Can I come to your house for dinner one night this month?”

“Of course,” Luke says, and she leans in to give him a hug and a kiss.

On the drive home, Luke seems just as tense and agitated as he did on the way over, although now I guess I can understand why. When we get into Newton, he asks me if I’ll stay the night and I tell him that of course I will.

We grab some Chinese food and eat in the living room. At first, I’m not sure if Luke is going to want to fool around, but when the food is gone, he leans forward and starts kissing my neck. “I’m so glad I have you, Ellie,” he says.

I smile and let him pull me into his lap. He wheels us both to his bedroom and shuts the door behind him. Then he shuts off the lights. Luke always turns off the lights when we fool around and I’ve realized it’s because he’s self-conscious about his body. I try to tell him he’s being ridiculous, but I guess when you go from having the body of the guy I saw the night of Primal Scream to what he’s got now, you realize how much you’re lacking. Honestly, I’ve dated guys who had worse bodies than Luke—fat guys who hadn’t been to a gym in their entire lives.
And it’s not like I’m any kind of model myself—I’m sure my scrawny figure pales in comparison to Rebecca.

Luke transfers onto the bed and I undo the buttons on his shirt. He tenses slightly like he always does, but then he relaxes as I start kissing his chest. I pull off my own shirt and Luke grins. “You’re so beautiful, Ellie,” he says. “What the hell do you see in me?”

“You’re rich,” I say and he laughs.

I force him to lie still and I kiss his neck, shoulders, earlobes, and face… everything he can feel. I can taste his skin getting sweaty and from the way his breathing changes, I can tell he’s enjoying what I’m doing for him. He’s pressing his palms into the small of my back, drawing me closer to him. His breathing gets faster and faster until he throws back his head and moans loudly. I suspect this is the closest he can come to an orgasm.

Luke lies there for a minute, still breathing hard. He blinks and rubs his face. “That was fantastic,” he says.

At this point, most men would probably roll over and say goodnight, but instead he starts kissing me again. Presumably, this means it’s my turn. Usually I’d just be happy and let him pleasure me, but I feel like I’ve got a lot on my mind right now. First and foremost, what secrets is Luke hiding from me?  I feel like every time I ask him, he just blows me off and changes the subject. Maybe it’s time for a more direct approach. Except what can I ask about? I have no idea what rumors everyone is talking about.

Well. Except for that one thing Lewis mentioned…

“Luke,” I say, “can I ask you a question?”

“Anything,” he says, as he kisses my neck.

“Have you ever been to a prostitute?”

He stops kissing me abruptly and stares at me. “
What?
”

He seems so shocked by the question that I’m immediately embarrassed for having asked. “Forget it.”

“Why would you ask me that?” he says.

“I don’t know,” I mumble. “It’s just sort of… something I heard.”

“Something you heard,” he muses. He rolls away from me and I notice he covers up his chest with his unbuttoned shirt as much as possible.

I do find it interesting that he hasn’t actually denied it. I would think that if it were untrue, that would be the first thing he’d do. Or even if it
were
true.

“I didn’t,” he finally says. “I swear I didn’t. But… I called a service. Once.”

Now it’s my turn to stare. I hadn’t really expected him to answer in the affirmative.

“It was about a year after Rebecca left me,” he says. “I had no confidence and the whole situation just felt so… hopeless. I figured if I was paying for it, if I knew she had to stay and there was no chance of being rejected, I’d feel more confident. I know that sounds stupid, but you have to understand what kind of mental state I was in.”

Luke’s eyes are lowered and he seems really embarrassed about the whole thing. I almost feel like I should tell him not to continue, but I can’t help myself. I’m curious. “I called this really high-priced, high-quality service,” he says. “But in the end, I couldn’t go through with it. I would have felt like the biggest loser ever, having to pay for it.” He takes a deep breath. “I figured it was better to be celibate than feel that way about myself.”

I haven’t said anything through Luke’s entire story, so he finally looks up at me and studies my face. “Do you hate me now?” he asks softly.

“No,” I say quickly. “I mean, you didn’t go through with it. That’s what’s important, right?”

“I guess so,” he says uncertainly.

Just to show him I’m okay with the whole thing, I kiss him deeply on the lips. Does it bother me that my boyfriend once called a prostitute?  Honestly, yes, a little. But I can understand why he did it and I’m not going to hold it against him. Besides, he’s only human. And at least now I know his secret.

Chapter Eighteen

The next weekend, I convince Luke to go out to Boston Common and the frog pond when he says he’s never been there. It’s hard to believe that there’s anywhere in the greater Boston area that he’s never visited, but he says he’s been too busy with work. “You never went in college?” I ask him incredulously.

He shrugs. “Never got around to it, I guess.”

Early fall is the prettiest time of year to go to the frog pond. Summer is too hot, although summers are quite short around here. The leaves are just starting to fall and there are tons of joggers around, but more commonly, couples holding hands. “You bring guys here a lot?” Luke asks me jokingly.

“Never,” I answer honestly.

“Good,” he says.

We stroll through the park and eventually come to the frog pond, which is a large pond in the middle of the park. In the fall, they have swan boats with rows of seats that paddle passengers in a circle around the pond. “Do you want to go on the boat?” I ask.

“God, no,” Luke says.

“I’m sure they’ll help you,” I insist.

Luke squints through the sun at the boats. “We can give it a shot, I guess.”

Luke and I get on line for the boat. Admittedly, he’s the only person on line who’s sitting in a wheelchair. But they must get disabled passengers from time to time. We ask about it when we buy the tickets and the older woman behind the counter assures us that someone will help us.

Sure enough, when we get to the front of the line, two guys immediately approach us. They’re both teenagers, probably working here as a part time job during weekends. “Can we help you to board, sir?” one of the boys asks.

“Uh, yes,” Luke says, eying the boat. It doesn’t seem like it’s close enough for him to board comfortably on his own.

All the people on line are watching us as Luke lines his wheelchair up with the edge of the pier. “How would you like us to lift you?” one of the boys asks.

Luke gives the boy instructions for one to lift him under his legs and the other under his arms. There’s a precarious moment when I’m a little worried they might drop him, but they manage to get him into the boat. He adjusts his legs and I can tell that he’s having some trouble supporting his trunk in the seat, but he holds the side armrest and seems somewhat stable.

“Thanks,” Luke says to the boys. Then he fishes in the front pocket of his pants for his wallet and fumbles as he pulls out a twenty-dollar bill. “Can you make sure to stay with my chair while I’m in the boat?”

The way the boys look at the money, he may as well have given them a thousand dollars. They’re practically tripping over themselves, promising to watch his chair.

I climb into the seat next to Luke and they keep the boat only half full. Initially he seems a little nervous and keeps glancing back to make sure his wheelchair is visible, but then he relaxes and even puts his free arm around me. “This is kind of nice,” he says.

“Occasionally, I’m right,” I say.

“Very occasionally,” Luke concedes.

In the swan boat, we’re just like any other couple. Anybody who saw us, who didn’t watch Luke board, would never know he was disabled, at least if they didn’t look too closely. Probably most people would wonder what a great-looking guy like Luke was doing with someone like me.

The dismount from the boat goes a little more smoothly, but despite having a good time during the ride, Luke seems incredibly relieved to be back in his chair. I guess I can’t entirely blame him.

The sun drops in the sky and it’s getting chilly, so we decide to go to the movies. We decide to see
The Town
, because it’s about Boston and it’s playing right now. “I never see movies anymore,” Luke admits.

The movie holds my attention. When they show scenes from Harvard Square, I nudge Luke and say, “Look, it’s where we met.” Although in general, I don’t love the movie. I tend to be picky about movies. If there are holes in the plot, I usually get irritated very quickly.

“Why does she even like Ben Affleck?” I rant to Luke when we’re having dinner (pizza) after the movie is over. “And furthermore, how come he’s so dumb that he keeps robbing banks even though the police are after him?  Nobody is actually that dumb.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of suspension of disbelief?” Luke retorts.

“Suspension of disbelief?” I snort. “This wasn’t, like, some fantasy movie.”

“Actually,” Luke says, “while the term ‘suspension of disbelief’ was first coined to describe reading about the supernatural, the modern use of the term has been expanded to include somewhat unrealistic plot vehicles.”

“You mean plot
holes
,” I say. “That’s total bullshit. So a plot doesn’t make sense and you put the onus on me to suspend my disbelief?  Come on.”

“Well, Ellie,” he says, “if you were familiar with any of the works of Shakespeare, you’d realize that suspension of disbelief is an essential component of theater. He says it himself in the prologue to
Henry V
.”

“You know,” I huff, “I actually have read…”

I’m about to tick off a list of the works of Shakespeare that I ended up reading in my Tragedies class in college, but then I see that Luke is grinning at me. “What?” I say.

“Nothing,” he says, still smiling. “I just… I love you.”

At first, I’m at a loss for what to say. “You love me because I hated that stupid movie?”

“Yes, partially,” he says. “I also love you because I can’t shut you up when you have an opinion about something. I love you because you’re the most intelligent woman I’ve ever met. I love you because of how cute you look when you’re arguing with me… and when you’re not. And… I just love you. Just because.” He pauses. “You don’t have to say it back. No pressure.”

“I don’t feel pressured,” I say. “I… I love you too.”

Luke nods at our half-eaten pizza. “You want to get out of here?”

I was once again amazed and pleased by Luke’s ability to know exactly what I was thinking.

***

On Thursday night, Luke has a late meeting, so Jenna and I go out for drinks just like old times. We go to the bar near work and I get a beer, and I don’t even lament the fact that nobody is trying to hit on me. I’m content to sit back and let Jenna complain about her love life.

“Boy,” Jenna says, as we’re finishing off our first set of drinks. “You must really be in love with Luke. Usually you tell me to quit whining after about five minutes.”

“No, I don’t,” I say, even though I guess I probably do.

“Nevertheless,” Jenna says, “you’re really into him, aren’t you?”

I blush. “Well, maybe. Kind of.”

Jenna beams. “That’s wonderful, Ellie. It just goes to show that you never know. I mean, Luke doesn’t seem like your type at all.”

“He doesn’t?”

She shrugs. “Well, you know, he’s so rich and high class. You usually seem to prefer poor and smart.”

“Luke’s smart,” I say. “He’s really smart.”

“Maybe that’s how he eked by,” Jenna winks.

We’re ordering our second round of beers when I see a familiar face walk into the bar. It’s Rita Barnes, who used to be a programmer at our company before moving on to a different job. Way back when, Rita and I used to be good friends. We drifted apart after she left the firm, but I’m thrilled to see her.

“Rita!” I call out, standing up and waving my hand around to get her attention. “Rita! Over here!”

Rita lifts her beer and catches sight of me. When she turns, I realize that she looks tired and old. She has bags under her eyes that weren’t present years ago. “Ellie…” she says. “My God, is that you?”

I nod and gesture for Rita to join us. She obliges somewhat hesitantly, and she and Jenna exchange introductions. “What are you doing around here, Rita?” I ask.

Rita takes a long swig of her beer. “Job interview,” she says. She sighs. “It didn’t go that well.”

“The other job didn’t work out?” I ask, trying to sound sympathetic.

“It worked out fine at first,” Rita says. “Until the company got bought out last year. We all ended up losing our jobs. I’ve been out of work for the last six months.”

Jenna’s eyes widen. “Bought out? By who?”

I grip my beer glass and pray to God that she’s going say the name of some company I never heard of. Or any other company besides…

“Thayer Industries,” Rita says. She takes another swig of beer. “They’re the worst company in the country. That’s what they do, you know. They buy out companies, strip down the waste, and fire everyone.”

“Fire everyone?” Jenna’s face is white as a sheet. I can’t even imagine how I must look.

Rita nods. “They hire new college grads who will work for a quarter of the salary. They kept a few people around, but they had to take huge pay cuts. Basically, the company takes advantage of the fact that the economy sucks right now.”

“That’s… horrible,” I manage.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard of the guy who runs the company, Lucas Thayer,” Rita says. Yeah, may have heard the name a few times. “He’s a monster. He’s got a reputation in the business circles for being a heartless, ruthless bastard, and let me tell you, it’s totally true.”

“Oh?” I say.

“He has zero compassion,” Rita says. “There was a woman at our company who was a single mom with two kids and he figured out a way to say she was breaking her contract so that she didn’t get any severance pay. He’ll turn up the demands and the hours so that everyone quits. He provides health insurance because he has to, but he uses horrible policies with practically no coverage and gigantic deductibles.”

I want to cry out,
Luke wouldn’t do that!
But suddenly I’m not so sure. Maybe he would. You don’t get so rich by being nice. You get rich by being a heartless, ruthless bastard.

“I met Thayer once,” Rita says. “He has fantastic PR that keeps his name from getting run through the mud in papers and even on the Internet. He pays off Google, I heard. Anyway, the guy’s actually in a wheelchair—he’s a quadriplegic or something. Apparently he’s bitter and wants to destroy everyone else’s lives too.”

Jenna and I exchange looks. Finally, she says, “How do you know all this?”

“Well, it’s all rumors,” Rita says. “It’s hard to find on the Internet because like I said, he pays off the search engines. But when you search hard enough, it’s all there.” She frowns at us. “Why so interested?”

Jenna’s at a loss, so I quickly say, “A friend of ours is in a company that was bought by Thayer Industries.”

“Then your friend is on a time clock,” Rita says. “She should start looking for a new job right now.”

Great.

“Anyway…” Rita rises to her feet. “I really just stopped in for a quick drink. Didn’t mean to burden you with my troubles.”

“It was nice meeting you, Rita,” Jenna says, who looks very pale by now.

After Rita is out of sight, Jenna turns to me in panic. “Oh my God,” she says. “I’m going to get fired. I’m going to have to move back in with my parents.”

“I wouldn’t worry,” I say, trying to be reassuring. “Luke won’t fire you.”

“Well, obviously he won’t fire
you
,” Jenna says.

“He won’t fire you either,” I say firmly. “Trust me.”

Jenna and I finish our beers, but we’re both too nervous to talk much. I need to get home and figure out exactly what people are saying about Luke.