Love Show (18 page)

“So, this is the library, huh?”
Jack said, as we approached the building so I could work on a paper for my
Arabic class. “You realize I am a library virgin, right?”

I opened the door. “You need to be
quiet.”

“Thank you for that valuable bit of
information, Hadley Arrington. I will treasure it all my life.”

I rolled my eyes. “Did you actually
bring any work to do?”

“No, you said
you
were going
to the library. And that means the only place I could possibly have sex with
anyone is in the library.”

He said this last sentence as we
stepped into the eerily quiet library. And half-a-dozen heads whipped around to
look at us. He smiled and waved. I gripped his forearm tightly.

“It’s like a cave.” He announced
loudly. He glanced around. “Actually, a tomb.”

“
Shut up
,” I whispered.                          

He rolled his eyes at me. “What
now?” he asked in an exaggerated whisper. He followed me to the second floor,
to one of the tables by the windows overlooking the lake. He smiled as I sat
down.

“You do this a lot, don’t you?”

“Go to the library?”

“Yes.”                         

“Yeah, I go to the library a lot,
Jack.”

He laughed and sat down across from
me. He kept his backpack on, clearly having no intention of doing anything
productive, as I started up my computer and got out my notebook and Arabic
textbook.

“You’re the real deal, huh?” Jack
asked.

I looked up. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, with the Arabic stuff. You
really just want to be a war correspondent?”

I nodded. “Yeah. I guess so.”

“Why?” he asked.

I shrugged. “It’s just what I want
to do.”

He smiled. “Not good enough.”

“What?”

“You’re the most deliberate person
I know. Why war journalism?” he asked. “I mean, what made you want to do that?
Did you see a movie? Read a book? Have a friend?”

I rubbed my chin and thought back
to the moment I first realized it. “I think it started with Nancy Drew.”

He smiled.

“She was a detective, but it’s kind
of similar work. You ask a lot of questions and figure out who’s lying and who’s
telling the truth and all that jazz,” I said.

He smiled. “Okay. So, this is Nancy
Drew: Mysteries of the Middle East.”

I laughed. “No,” I said. “Then, you
know, I read another book.”

He nodded.

“Um, about the holocaust.
Number
the Stars
.” I rubbed my chin. “And it just seemed like the older I got the
more I realized how many terrible things had happened that nobody had bothered
to notice until the destruction was basically complete.” I paused. “It’s so
easy to focus on our own lives, and it’s so terrible, and…my parents focused on
their own lives. It didn’t make them any happier. My dad made a lot of money,
but my mom just kept looking for someone else for herself. And I thought, you
know, if I was doing this kind of work, writing about what was going on so that
people couldn’t ignore it, then that would be enough.” I shrugged. “It would be
enough to know I was doing good work, important work. And right now, the place
where people need to know what’s going on is mostly the Middle East.” I
flushed. Long, earnest speech. Not my style.

He smiled.

“What?”

“I like that,” he said.

“You like what?”

“I like that your reasons for being
a journalist are totally naïve and idealistic,” He grinned.

I rolled my eyes. “I didn’t say it
was profound.”

“No, it is kind of.” He smiled.
“And it’s good to know you’re not a complete cynic.”

I focused on not blushing.

 “So, maybe you’ll come around on
the dating thing.”

“I won’t,” I said.

He shrugged.

“I’m serious,” I said, slightly
annoyed.

He chuckled. “Don’t get mad.”

“I’m not mad. But, I am serious
that I just want to get the job at the
Times
and focus on that. I don’t
want there to be any confusion.”

He nodded. “No, I know.”                       

I flipped the page of my book,
feeling him watching me.

“You mind if I go?”

I shook my head. “No. Not if you
want.”

He paused, seeming to reconsider
for a moment. “Sorry, just…claustrophobic, you know?”

I nodded, although I didn’t know at
all. And I watched him go. I watched the other girls watch him go, too. He
really was handsome. And he was popular. And for a second, I wondered if he had
just realized that I wasn’t that popular or that pretty and that he really
didn’t need to be sitting in the library with me.

As we’d planned, David and I wandered throughout the Chicago
Institute of Art. “This is boring,” I said, much to his chagrin. I’d been going
along with David’s flurry of plans, all of which I knew were, in part, to help
him get over Ben, who just wouldn’t stop calling him.

David hadn’t called him back, and I
trusted that he wouldn’t. But, whenever he said he needed to get off-campus, I
went with him.

“Seriously,” I said. “I’m bored
now.”  I looked at the painting David was gazing at, trying to determine
exactly what was keeping him transfixed.

“How did a San Francisco heiress
end up less cultured than a South Dakota farm boy?”

“You were not a farm boy and I’m
not an heiress. And I don’t live in San Francisco anymore. Remember?”

“Whatever. Look at the artwork.
Stop acting like a Neanderthal.”

I yawned. “I’m not acting like a
Neanderthal. I’m acting like I need a nap,” I insisted. “Which I do, because
this is boring.

He snorted. “Don’t worry. We’ll go
buy your prom dress next.”

“It is
not
a prom,” I said
furiously.

“I can’t believe you’re going to a
parents’ weekend formal,” he said.

“Oh, shut up.”

“Are you going to get a corsage?”

“Look, I just need to find a dress.
And shoes,” I said.

“You know who you should call?”

“No.”

“Your fabulous mother.” He stopped
in front of the Claude Monet wheatstacks and studied them.

“She makes everything more
complicated.”

“That may be true,” he said. “But
she is incredibly stylish.”

I chewed my lip. The logical thing
to do would be to ask her. And it might be the easier thing, too. I wouldn’t
have to go shopping. But it just seemed like I was asking for help.

We went to lunch afterwards. “I need a rebound,” David said.

“Yes,” I agreed.

“What about Justin?”

I raised my eyebrows. “Much as I
love you, darling, I am not letting you use Justin as your rebound.”

He grumbled. “Well, that’s a
shame.”

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Why not?”

“He’s a freshman.”

“I’d be nice to him.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“Okay, fine,” he said. “I won’t ask
you to help.”

“Do
not
pursue him if you
don’t like him.”

“I don’t know if I like him yet,
Hadley,” David said.

I made a face. “What happened to Nigel’s
friend? Sam?”

David shrugged. “No.”

“What do you mean ‘no?’”

“Just no,” David said. “Everything
was no.”

“Okay then,” I said sarcastically,
“That makes a lot of sense.”

“So, is Jack, like, your
boyfriend?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Not technically,” I said.

“You’re still friends with
benefits?”

“I guess.”

He rolled his eyes. “Well, as long
as he knows that no matter what kind of benefits he gets, I’m still the best
friend, that’s fine.”

“You have nothing to worry about.”

“So, are you going to call your
mother or am I going to have to deal with the horror of shopping with you in
addition to the horror of breaking up with my secret ex-boyfriend?”

“I might call my mother.”

He smiled. “I think that could be a
really good idea.”

My phone buzzed at the table. It
was an unknown number, so I ignored the call. When it buzzed again, David gave
me a look.

“Answer it, if you’re so popular.”

“Hello?” I said, with a little more
attitude than I normally would have.

“Hadley Arrington?”                     

“Yeah, speaking.”              

“This is Dale Broussards from
The
New York Times
.”

I coughed on air. What?

“How are you?”                      

“I’m…great,” I said idiotically,
trying not to choke.

“So, listen, we’re going to offer
you the job. We’ll need you to start right after graduation and you’ll probably
be based in Syria from day one. If that still sounds good, we need to know
fairly quickly, because we’d like to start getting you up to speed while you
wrap up schoolwork and everything.”

No. Fucking. Way.

After that, I didn’t register much
of anything that he said. All I heard was the offer. My dream job. This
intangible thing that I had worked and worked and worked for. It had happened.

“So, if you’ll let us know in the
next three days if you can accept th—”

“I accept,” I said automatically.

He laughed. “Alright, then.”

When I hung up, I looked at the
huge smile on David’s face and laughed.

“You got it?”

I nodded. “Yeah. He said I’d
probably be in Syria. I mean, things can change, but—”

He chuckled. “Girl, congrats. We
have to celebrate.”

 I laughed again. Pure glee. I
really couldn’t believe it.

Outside the restaurant, I reached
for my phone and texted my mother. I could only hope she’d be happy for me and
that she wouldn’t say anything to my dad. And then I called Jack. He didn’t
pick up the call and his voicemail had been full since the day I’d met him.

So I texted him.

Got the job! A few of us are
going to The Pub to celebrate. Wanna come?

I stared at the screen for a freakishly
long period of time, before I rolled my eyes and set it away.

“Tell Justin, and I’ll get everyone
else you care about to come.”

I raised my eyebrows at David. “You
are not rebounding with Justin.”

“I seriously think he’s cute.”

I gave him a death glare and he
just laughed.

When we pulled up to the bar, I could already tell it was
going to be busy.

Justin and the rest of the newspaper
crew had beaten us there.

“A toast to Hadley,” David called,
gathering everyone around and handing out beers. I clinked my glass against
David’s and met his eyes. I saw nothing but affection. I swallowed thickly and
smiled, surprised that such a simple gesture would make me so emotional. David
was my best friend. And he’d be so far away this time next year.

“Congratulations,” Justin said,
giving me a warm hug.

“Thank you,” I said.

“Hey, Justin,” David said. “It’s
been too long.”

Justin lifted his head and looked
at him. “David, what’s up?” he had a wide smile on his face.

“I know Hadley promised you I’d
introduce you to some people back in January,” he said, with a winning smile.
“You’ll have to let me do that now.”

I rolled my eyes at David and
stepped away to check my phone. Jack still hadn’t written me back. Annoying.

When I looked up, Ben Mitchell was
staggering towards David at the bar. Fuck.

Where had he come from?

David had his back to Ben, so I
stepped over. “Maybe we should go somewhere else,” I said softly.

Justin laughed at me. “Like where?”

David turned his head and his face
darkened. I knew Ben had a dangerous side when he drank, but I didn’t expect to
see a flash of fear across David’s face. “Yeah, let’s go,” he murmured.

“Where? Why?” Justin asked.

“I don’t want him to cause a
scene,” David mumbled.

It was too late for that, though.
Ben was making his way over and I left David’s side to intercept him.

 “Hadley,” he slurred. “Where’s
Diamond?”

I realized I was the one,
insufficient buffer between David and Ben, and took a step in between them. Ben
was a jerk, but even I didn’t think he’d be stupid enough to hit a girl in
public.

“Look, I don’t think David wants to
talk right now,” I said.

“Hey,” Ben said, raising his voice
and calling loudly over my shoulder. David met his eyes. “You two freaks, this
isn’t a gay bar.”

“Fuck off, Ben,” I said.

He laughed and looked down at me.
“Seriously, you need a girl to defend you?”

“Fuck off, Ben,” I repeated.

He laughed. “Faggots,” he spat in
David’s general direction.

“Hey,” Justin said forcefully,
stepping forward. David caught his wrist.

“Don’t bother,” I heard David tell
him. “It’s not worth getting arrested over.”

He pulled Justin by the hand and
they left the bar. When I was sure they were gone, I turned my attention back
to Ben. I seethed where I stood. “You do realize, Mitchell, that you are the
only fucking person in this whole bar who has a problem with them?”

Ben just looked at me glassy-eyed.
“He left me.”

“Well, what did you expect?” I
asked incredulously. “You can’t treat someone like that and expect them to
stick around for it.”

“I love him,” Ben slurred, ridiculously.

“Really? So, you made him change
everything about himself and you beat him up and you decided your reputation
was more important than his feelings? What the fuck is wrong with you that you
think that constitutes love?”

“Nobody could know,” he said.

“I don’t care what you think your
reasons are. You have no right to come over here and call him a faggot.” I
shook my head. “You need serious help.” I walked away from him, ready to leave
by myself since Jack obviously wasn’t coming in time.