The Freshmen - 8. Chapter 8

August 10, 2004

Tribeca

New York, NY

JJ

I had my phone out at 5:00 and smiled when it rang. One of the things I loved about Kris was how organized and punctual he was. “Hey there,” I said.

“Hey back at you,” he said cheerfully. “I’m just finishing up.”

“Want me to pick you up? We can go get dinner,” I suggested.

“That works,” he said.

“You like seafood?” I asked. I cringed as I did, because that just showed how I didn’t really know him all that well. Dr. Jones’ comments percolated in my brain.

“I can do that,” he said, but didn’t sound all that enthused. “I like clam chowder, and I like oysters.” I made a mental note not to take him to Le Bernardin.

“Perfect. I’ll call you when we get there,” I said, and ended the call. I picked up the car phone and called Dave. “We need to pick up Kris at work.”

“Traffic,” he grumbled. “I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine,” I said in an encouraging way. I called and managed to get reservations at Jack’s Oyster Bar, then went back to reading through the Mode pre-publication draft. I was scanning through the content and was shocked to see a feature on Sergio. That was the fashion firm that Kevin Carmichael ran. The last I heard he was barely alive. I pulled out my phone and called him.

“Hey there!” Kevin said enthusiastically. “I haven’t talked to you in forever!”

“I’m sorry about that,” I said, cringing as I apologized. God I hated doing that.

“Do not even go there,” he said, more of a command. “No guilt. I was just excited to hear from you!”

“I was reading through the upcoming issue of Mode and saw a spread on Sergio,” I said. “I didn’t know you were back in the game.”

“Well, I kind of am,” he said. “Stef hooked me up with this guy he met in New York named Luka Brazzi. He basically joined me at Sergio and I’m supposed to be his partner, but it seems like I’m actually his boss.” I frowned in annoyance. Luka had been the dude that John Carullo had been dating at the same time we were going out. He had seemed like a nice guy, and I’d gotten him some serious exposure by setting Bellona up to see his show. That was not an easy achievement, since he’d been a new designer and way off her radar. He’d promised me he’d call me, but I’d never heard from him. That had pissed me off.

“I know him,” I grumbled.

“You two aren’t friends?” he asked.

I resolved not to be a bitch. “I did him a major favor and he promised me he’d call, then he didn’t. I thought his stuff was good.”

“Don’t take it personally,” Kevin said. “He’s an organizational disaster, so it wasn’t you. He’s lucky he remembers to fucking wake up in the morning.”

“He’s going to crash and burn in this industry if he doesn’t get a clue,” I said, thinking of how people would react to a rookie like him disrespecting their time.

“I know,” he said in annoyance. “I think that’s why this partnership is good for him. We have similar ideas about fashion, while he’s got tons of energy and I’m good at directing that.”

“Sounds like that would work,” I said.

“So the last I heard you were being a good little breeder boy dating some British chick,” he said, cracking me up. When Will said shit like that it annoyed me, but from Kevin it was funny.

“We are so over,” I said. “She flies back to England tomorrow.”

“What happened?”

“I put together this awesome outfit, mixing colors that don’t normally work together, but it was perfect,” I said proudly. “She questioned it.”

Most people would have thought that was ridiculously petty, but Kevin understood perfectly. “Dude, that’s like having a first-year piano student questioning Liberace.” I laughed at that.

“I already have a new boyfriend,” I said, letting my guard down with him because I was enjoying our conversation so much.

“You work fast,” he said.

“Yeah, I just met with my psychologist and I was worried that she’d give me all kinds of shit for meeting this dude and then two days later asking him to move in with me,” I said.

“Dude, that is fast,” he said, but not in a judgmental way. “He must be a rock star in bed.”

“Absolutely,” I said. “He’s been a big player in the bar scene here, but he agreed to give it up. I guess part of me worries that he’ll wander back into that world.”

“What’s he do?” Kevin asked. I told him all about Kris’s job, his career plans, and his heritage. “I have no idea whether he’ll cheat on you or not, but the bar scene gets old. He probably wanted something more stable.”

“Old?” I asked.

“After a while you end up seeing the same people. You’ve already fucked the people who interested you and have decided for one reason or another it’s not going anywere,” he said. “So you find yourself sitting there, gossiping and having a good time, knowing that all you’re going to end up with at the end of the night is a fuck.”

“That sounds depressing,” I said, digesting it.

“It’s really fun and exciting in the beginning, but after a while, it kind of becomes a bummer. This dude works long hours, so in order to get laid he has to spend time he doesn’t really have dealing with that bullshit,” he said.

“You think he just went for me because I’m an easy solution?” I asked.

“No,” he said, acting like I was the idiot that I was. “He probably thought you were different and found that exciting.”

“I’m not all that easy to get along with,” I said. It was annoying that he laughed so hard.

“Neither am I,” he said. “As long as he finds your quirks to be cute but not annoying, you’ll be fine.”

“Do you think I’m moving too fast?” I asked, dreading his answer.

“Are you happy?” he asked.

A smile broke across my face. “I am.”

“Then you’re not moving too fast,” he said. “Go with it.”

“What if it doesn’t work out,” I said, thinking of Alex, Carullo, and Susannah.

“Then it doesn’t work out,” he said fatalistically. “The alternative is that you worry that it won’t, and then you end up ruining the fun time you’re having now.”

“You’re telling me to relax and enjoy the moment,” I said.

“Stop and smell the roses,” he paraphrased. The car pulled up to Goldman Sachs headquarters.

“I have to run. Thanks for talking to me about this,” I said.

“Anytime,” he said, and ended our call. I was about to text Kris and tell him we were here when he opened the car door and hopped in.

“Hey,” he said, and gave me a massive kiss. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” I said, “but not as much.”

“Why didn’t you miss me as much as I missed you?” he asked, pretending to be severe. I laughed at how cute he was.

“Because I spent half the day talking about you,” I said.

“Oh yeah?” he asked. “Who did you talk to and what did you say?”

“You think I’m going to reveal my personal conversations to you?” I asked, pretending I was outraged.

“I know you are,” he said, then started tickling me. I laughed and thrashed around until the car stopped in front of the restaurant.

“I forgot that you said that sometimes you’re an asshole,” I said. Dave opened the door and let us out, and we walked into the restaurant. It was small, very tony, and crowded. I walked up to the hostess, gave her fifty bucks, and we got our table right away.

“It’s amazing how you do that,” he said.

“Do what?” I asked, worried that I’d done something wrong.

“You just walk into places and you are so suave they drop everything to take care of you,” he said. “It’s like you’re Luke Skywalker doing that Jedi mind trick thing.”

I laughed. “Well, it helped that I made reservations.” He rolled his eyes at me.

“So who did you talk to?” he asked.

“My psychologist,” I said.

“Oh,” he said, and suddenly got sad. “She probably told you we’re moving too fast and you should dump me.” I blinked in amazement at that statement.

“Dude, I am the one who is supposed to be insecure, not you,” I said, and glared at him until I couldn’t stand it and smiled.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. The waiter arrived and took our drink order, which was kind of a nice break in our conversation.

“She told me that I seemed happier than I ever have,” I said. He grinned at me broadly at that. “She just said it would require more patience, because we haven’t built up our friendship yet and we don’t know each other all that well, so when something goes wrong, we don’t have that to fall back on.”

“Maybe nothing will go wrong,” he said.

“Something always goes wrong,” I said, rolling my eyes at him. Sometimes I felt that I was living my life in a novel written by someone who was determined to torture me.

“So how do we deal with that, so we don’t go off the rails?” he asked.

I thought about it for a bit, then shrugged. “I don’t know.” The waiter interrupted us and with our drinks, told us about the specials, then we ordered.

“When I get mad, I usually need to go off by myself and get my temper under control, and to think things out,” he said.

“I pretty much do the same thing, but probably with a lot more drama,” I said, making him laugh.

“Probably,” he agreed. “So I think that if we get mad, we have to give each other a little space.”

“When I get mad, I rant and rave, throw a tantrum, and then hide,” I said. “Just so you know, that happens before you get your space.” We both chuckled at that.

“Duly noted,” he said.

“I also talked to a cousin of mine. His name is Kevin. If you’d have seen him in a bar, you’d have fucked him,” I said.

“Right,” he said skeptically. “I was a lot pickier than most dudes.”

“You would have,” I said confidently. “He’s a designer, and he’s had a lot more experience with men than I have.”

“So what did this sage have to say?”

“He told me not to worry about it, and just enjoy us,” I said.

“Sounds like you got some good advice,” he said.

“You never told me why you felt like you’d been waiting for me for a long time,” I said. That had been burning in my brain, and I needed to hear his response if only to stop my mind from guessing all the various reasons he might have said that.

“I’m a logical guy, I’m really organized, and I’m very driven,” he said. “From the minute I walked up to you in the gallery, I felt like you were the person who would complete me.”

“Me?” I asked, stunned.

“Yes, you,” he said to me like I was an idiot. He wasn’t wrong at this particular time. “You ooze style out of every pore in your body, you are fucking gorgeous, and…”

“I’m rich?” I asked. He glared at me and was so mad he acted like he was going to stand up. “I’m sorry.”

“I am not with you for your money,” he asserted. I just looked down at my plate, which had nothing on it, avoiding his gaze. I felt so awful. If I kept constantly questioning him about this, I would hurt his feelings to the point that he’d want nothing to do with me. I felt his hand on my chin, pulling my face up so we were looking at each other. “Seriously.” He looked so earnest when he said it.

“Then why?” I asked.

“I thought that I’d be stable where you weren’t, that I could prop you up and help you with your moods,” he said honestly. “And I knew that you could help spice up my life. Add some art and fashion and give me some class. Things like that.”

“You figured out I was moody that fast?” I challenged, unable to hide my annoyance.

“You seemed kind of like a ship without a rudder, and I have a pretty big rudder,” he said, winking at me. “You are strong where I am weak, and I am strong where you are weak.”

“I never thought about it that way,” I said, pondering how right he was.

“Remember, I’m a Prussian prince, and we are known for being militaristically punctual and organized,” he said. “You’re more like a Frenchman.”

“Yeah, and they fought a bunch of wars against each other,” I said.

“They were also allies a lot of the time,” he said. “These past couple of days my life has been so much better. When I’m at work, I focus. Before I’d be thinking about what I was going to do after I got off, and on the weekends.”

“So I’m like your wife?” I asked.

That flustered him, and he sat there staring at me in confusion. He was saved by the waiter, who brought our food. That seemed to wake him up from his weird mind daze. “Yeah, but you have a dick, and I like that.” I smiled slightly, then frowned.

“I am no one’s bitch,” I asserted strongly.

“Dude, that is not what I am saying,” he said. “You just proved that with Susannah. I was just saying that you tend to do things that a woman would have done thirty years ago.”

“So I’m responsible for decorating, making sure we have nice meals, and planning our social calendar?” I asked.

“You’d be mad if you weren’t,” he said. He raised an eyebrow to challenge me, and I smiled ruefully to acknowledge that he was right.

“Probably,” I grudgingly admitted.

“I mean, we can work things out however you want, but I’m just saying that you have made an enormous difference in my life in just a few days. And that’s why I knew that we’d be good together,” he said.

“You probably didn’t explain it as well as you could have,” I said, then took a bite of my oyster dish, which was really good.

“No shit,” he agreed, making me chuckle.

“But I get what you’re saying, and I’m fine with that, and if I am not, I will tell you about it,” I said. He looked at me, amazed that I’d agree. “It’s not like I’m doing your laundry.”

“A guy can hope,” he said, cracking me up.

“I think you’re right,” I said.

“Which one of the many stupid-ass things that I said am I right about?” he asked.

“I understand why you felt that way, that we meshed together perfectly,” I said. “I felt the same way; I just didn’t really figure it out until now.”

 

August 14, 2004

Marousi, Greece

Will

Athens was fucking crowded, and the most crowded part of Athens was Marousi, where the Olympic Stadium was. Stef had rented this amazing penthouse apartment. It had four bedrooms; five bathrooms; a huge open area with a dining room, kitchen, and great room; and a massive balcony with a hot tub. There was security stationed at the entrance to the building, and at the elevator to the penthouse, because of course it had its own elevator. I stood out on the balcony looking over the railing, staring at the masses of people pushing toward the events, marveling at how much JJ would appreciate this. It felt so elitist, but it was so kick-ass.

“Crowded,” Marie said as she came and stood next to me. “That opening ceremony was amazing.”

“No shit,” I agreed. “I remember watching Salt Lake City on television and thinking how cool that was. But unless you’re here, it’s hard to feel the energy.”

“The whole city feels like that,” she said. She looked at me, giving me a penetrating stare.

“What?” I demanded.

“When are you going back?” she asked.

“I’m supposed to go back on the 29^th,” I answered, stalling for time to figure out a way not to answer her question. She just stared at me until I sighed. “I think I’m going back on the 19^th with everyone else.”

“You miss him that much?” she mused.

“So much it hurts,” I replied. “I’m not moping around am I?” I had been absolutely miserable without Travis. We talked at least three times a day, and I could tell he missed me just as much. This was fun, but it wasn’t worth being apart.

“No, you put on a good enough act that everyone can pretend it doesn’t bother you,” she said. In other words, they knew I was miserable; I was just doing a good job of hiding it.

“If I become a buzz kill, please tell me,” I said. “I do not want to fuck this up for everyone else.”

“It’s fine, Will. Don’t worry about it,” she said. “How’s it going to be when you move to Boston?”

“It’s going to be a living hell,” I said, then wiped away a tear as I thought about how awful that would be.

“I’ll be there to prop you up,” she said. I gave her a big hug, then wiped my eyes.

“I have to go to work,” I said grudgingly. “It will probably be my last day.”

“Dude, you just started yesterday,” she said, laughing.

“I’m working at the aquatic center, and there’s this one dude who is a total dick,” I said. “He’s some sort of trainer or coach. I can’t get those guys straight. He thinks I’m his bitch.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be?” she asked.

“No, I’m supposed to work for the officials,” I said.

“I’ll walk over with you,” she said. We made our way down to the street and fought through the crowds. We separated when we got to the stadium, with Marie going into the stands and me going backstage, or at least that’s what I called it. I flashed my pass at the guards and walked through security. This badge was pretty fucking cool. It would even get me into the Olympic Village, where the athletes stayed. I began to look around at all the hot guys. Damn. They were impressive, but all I really wanted to do was go back to Malibu so I could hang out with my boyfriend and his Ancient Relic of the Massive Cock. Thinking about that made me laugh.

I walked through the area where the locker rooms were and almost ran into Ian Thorpe. I’d seen him last night after the opening ceremony, and flirted with my eyes, but hadn’t had a chance to meet him yet. “Sorry, mate,” I said, doing my spot-on Australian accent. He looked at me dubiously.

“You’re not from Oz,” he said, shaking his head.

“No, but I spent a couple of months there,” I said, reverting to my American self. “I thought I had the accent down pretty well.”

“Not bad for a seppo,” he said, making me laugh. “You know what that is, eh?”

“It’s short for septic tank,” I said. “That’s what Aussies call Americans because we’re full of shit.”

“Spot on,” he said, and made to walk around me.

“I’m Will Schluter,” I said, introducing myself.

“Ian,” he said.

“I know,” I said. “I’m a huge fan of the Thorpedo.”

He chuckled. “You’re supposed to be rooting for your fellow Yanks, like Michael Phelps.”

“Whatever,” I said, shaking my head. “You are handsome, you are amazing in the water, and when you’re not swimming, you dress well and just exude class. Phelps looks like he rides the short bus.”

“Short bus?” he asked.

“Hang out with me later and I’ll tell you what that means,” I said. I winked at him and headed to my designated area. I was working with one of the tech guys, doing mostly data entry and making sure the names in the scoring system were accurate.

“Hey, you,” said the obnoxious dude. “I need a coffee.” I completely ignored him. He came up and got in my face. “I told you to go get me a cup of coffee.”

“You were talking to me?” I asked innocently.

“No, I was talking to the walls,” he said sarcastically.

“They’re not going to get you a cup of coffee,” I said logically. A few of the American swimmers were there, trying not to laugh at him. “And neither am I.”

“If you aren’t going to do your job, then get the fuck out of here,” he said.

“Okay,” I replied. I was pretty much done anyway. I got up, closed the laptop, and walked away from him.

“Bring me a fucking cup of coffee!” he shouted after me. I just laughed. I decided to wander around the arena and was looking into the stands when I saw a familiar face.

“Hey there,” I said, as I walked up to greet Nick Politis. I’d met him in Australia; he was known as the Godfather, and owned a rugby team in Sydney.

“Will Schluter!” he said and got up to give me a man hug. “Should have known you’d be here.”

“I’m a jock sniffer,” I joked, making him laugh.

“Is Stefan here?”

“He is,” I said. “I’ll tell him you’re looking for him.”

“You do that,” he said. “We’re having a party for our swim team tonight. Want to join us?”

“You’re not worried that I’ll have them beat up outside the bar?” I joked, referring to this one asshole we’d had issues with when I was in Australia.

“These blokes are top notch, so you’ll enjoy yourself,” he said.

“I’m in,” I said. “Can I bring my cousin?”

“What’s he like?” he asked.

“He is a she, and she’s one of the most amazing ladies you will ever meet,” I said.

He laughed. “Then you can bring her.” He gave me the details on the party, then I left him to go watch the swimmers.

I finally got bored when the women were swimming, so I went back to my area and the dipshit wasn’t around. The guy who normally gave me work to do was named Gregor, a Ukrainian. He was a nice, easy-going guy. I ran a few errands for him, then went out to watch the meets. Today’s big event, at least as far as I was concerned, was the men’s 400-meter freestyle. I’d watched Ian Thorpe during his qualifying match, and he was incredible. He moved through the water so smoothly, propelled mostly by massive feet. Shit, I overheard one of the coaches saying they were size 17. I giggled to myself, wondering if there really was a link between shoe size and cock size.

I spotted Marie up in the stands, sitting with Stef, Grand, Dad, and Jake. I went past security and walked over to greet them. Of course they had kick-ass seats. “Hey there!” I gave everyone quick hugs then sat in between Marie and Stef.

“Did you get fired?” Marie asked.

“I’m working on it,” I said. “We have plans tonight.”

“We?” she asked, emphasizing the word, rolling her eyes to indicate that I was not in charge of her social schedule.

“You don’t have to go,” I said. “You wouldn’t have fun anyway.”

“What is it?” she asked me, and I ignored her. “What?” she asked again. She finally smacked me playfully on the shoulder, cracking me up. I glanced down at the pool and saw Ian looking at me. He looked kind of disappointed. I wondered if he thought Marie was my girlfriend?

“We got invited to a party for the Australian swimmers,” I said, raising my eyebrows. We looked out onto the deck and saw Grant Hackett stretching. “That guy will be there.”

“I am so going,” she said, cracking me up.

I turned my attention to Stef. “Guess who invited Marie and me to the swimmers’ party?”

“I cannot even begin to imagine,” he said, because he wasn’t in the mood for games.

“Nick Politis,” I said. He looked at me and raised an eyebrow. “He told me that he was hoping to run into you.”

“I suppose I will have to get out and about more to make that happen,” he joked. I spotted Nick in the stands, on the opposite side from us.

“There he is,” I said. “I’ll walk you over there if you want.”

“I will pretend that I am JJ,” he said. “Stefan Schluter does not go over to see Nick Politis; Nick Politis comes over to see Stefan Schluter.” Marie was listening to him, and we both started laughing hysterically.

“So true,” I finally said. Dad and Jake were looking at us oddly, while Grand pretended that he wasn’t even sitting with us.

We watched the swimmers get on their platforms. The three guys who did the best in the trials were the two Australians, Ian Thorpe and Grant Hackett, along with Klete Keller, who was swimming for the US. I’d met that Keller dude last night and he was a total tool. If he couldn’t swim, he’d probably end up operating a jackhammer. The starting gun sounded and they all took off. Thorpe was in the lead from the beginning, maintaining a slight advantage over the rest. Then around the 300-meter mark, it was like he really went to work. He widened his lead so he was about a body-length ahead of Grant Hackett, his nearest competitor. They got to the last lap and the crowd started to really cheer as Thorpe blasted toward the end and tagged the wall first, followed by Hackett. It was like one of those marathons where the rest of the crowd arrived much later. Keller managed to get third. I jumped up and was cheering loudly as Ian Thorpe won his first gold medal at these games, and broke a world record to boot. “He won!” I said to Marie.

“Beat the American,” she said.

“The best man won,” I said. “I need to go check out for the day. I’ll see you back at the apartment.”

“Sounds good,” she said. I said goodbye to our crowd and headed back down to the pool deck, then toward the pathway to the locker rooms. The swimmers were just finishing up their celebrations and were starting to head out, only to be stopped by the press. Of course they all but cornered Ian. I stood off to the side, watching him answer their inane questions. It was obvious to me how much he hated this part of the competition. He seemed inherently shy, and just so fucking cute. He glanced beyond them and saw me, his eyes lighting up a bit, so I winked at him, getting a bashful smile in return. When he was done, his entourage cleared a path for him. One of the dudes was about to shove me aside when Ian stopped him.

“Hey, mate,” he said. There was something so incredibly sexy about his Australian accent.

“You were amazing,” I gushed. “I am so proud of you.” He moved away from his people so he could talk to me without their eavesdropping.

“You’re like my mum,” he teased.

“Or maybe your daddy,” I said softly, so only he could hear. His eyes shot open, full of both fear and excitement.

“Is that your girlfriend you were with up in the stands?” he asked.

“You noticed me?” I asked, flirting shamelessly. “That’s Marie. She’s my cousin.”

“Quite pretty,” he noted.

“If you say so,” I said quietly. “I’m not into women.” He nodded, smiled shyly, then blushed. So cute.

One of the guys with him shuffled his feet, a clear signal that it was time for him to move on. “Later, mate,” he said.

“Later,” I said, and headed back to the apartment.