Page 12 of Considering Us

“She seems okay,” I said. In all honesty, I hadn’t had time to consider other people’s feelings that much. “Anyway, I think I need to set up some focus groups like I told you I would in my interview. Sooner rather than later, or else I worry I won’t be able to connect with the students. How should I go about reaching them?”

“Just send out an all-student email with a sign-up form attached. Search for one that I’ve sent to get the address. And maybe try to get a variety of grade levels so you hear different perspectives. I think it’s a good idea,” she said. “Nice picture inThe Underground Stallion,” she added.

“What? I haven’t seen it.”Ugh.It must have been from my dinner with Kyle. I had pushed it so far out of my mind, and with everything else going on, I hadn’t mentally revisited it. “How bad is it?”

“Considering you’re both fully clothed and the only mildly questionable thing in view is a six-pack of beer, I think you’re doing quite well,” she said, standing up. “They usually keep stacks of the paper in that little birdhouse outside the library if you want to see one for yourself.” She patted my shoulder. “You’re doing fine, Devon. I’m looking forward to dinner tonight. I can’t miss Taco Tuesday.”

“Yeah, we’ll have tacos,” I mumbled. “We didn’t even drink the beer, just so you know. If you don’t mind, I’m going to go—” I really wanted to see this newspaper or flyer or whatever the hell it was. Apparently, I had fled one scandal-ridden situation for another one.

“Please, be my guest. But try not to put much stock in that rag. It’s just a few kids stirring up trouble. You’ll make yourself sick if you let it get to you.”

I nodded and bolted out of the back of the kitchen, through the empty dining hall, and out into the grassy quad. Students were milling around, swinging in hammocks, throwing frisbees, and chatting in small groups. I ran across the lawn to the library and found the birdhouse Andrea had mentioned. Sure enough, there was a small stack of white papers sticking out of it, with the wordsThe Underground Stallionemblazoned across the top. There was a black-and-white picture of Kyle and me, standing across from each other at my kitchen island, laughing andsmiling. Sure enough, the silver beer cans were shining, as were our faces mid-conversation. It was so strange to see us through the eyes of whatever little shit snuck up my fire escape and took the picture; we looked happy and well—intoeach other. My heart sank a bit. I was a little embarrassed and very confused.

“Nice picture there, Chef,” yelled Ashlyn Lark in my direction from the middle of the quad, then went back to laughing with her friends.

“I’m not going to feed you,” I muttered to myself, knowing that I couldn’t withhold food from her. But boy, did I want to.Why does she make me bristle so badly?

Once I was back in my apartment and safe—hopefully—from intrusive eyes, ears, and cell phone cameras, I gave Tam a call. I never knew her work schedule, as it changed at a moment’s notice, but she always told me to try calling if I needed her. This was one of those times.

“What’s up, Chef?” she asked, and I could hear the lilt of the newsroom behind her. She probably wouldn’t be able to talk for long.

“Ugh, that’s whatshejust called me. Ashlyn Lark.”

“Who the heck is Ashlyn Lark? Any relation to my Andrea?”

“Niece. And I don’t know who Andrea’s brother pretends to be because his dear daughter is clearly the spawn of something God-awful. Yeah, in other words, I don’t like her at all. She’s a mean girl. Reminds me of a few girls I went to high school with.” There it was. I knew something about her was familiar and terrible.

“Oh, those are the worst,” she said. “I only have a few minutes, but I’m so glad you called. Tell me something. How are things going otherwise?”

“Well, Sparky, I have already been featured in an underground newspaper if that gives you any kind of idea.”

“I’ll ignore my nickname, which I like to pretend never existed. Did they write about Bentley and the scandal? Eww, that’s harsh. What’d they say?”

“No, nothing about that, at least not yet. I’m sure they’re onto me, so I bet it’ll be soon. But it was about Kyle and me. No article, just a picture and a caption. It says, ‘Chef cooks up something spicy with Rockwood’s newest bachelor.’ And there’s a picture. Hold on, I’ll send it to you.” I took a quick snap of the newspaper and texted it to Tam.

“Whoa, that’s Kyle? Dev, he looks good. What are you doing drinking beer with him? Are you two already an item? I thought it would take at least a couple of months, given your trepidation.”

“We did not drink those beers. We drank whiskey sours. And no, we are not an item. He’s been through a lot. He has a ton of baggage. I heard the whole story about what happened when he went to London and the girl he met there, plus all about his recent divorce from a teacher who used to work here. He has akid, Tam. Her name is Annie, she’s ten, and she does theater in Boston. It’s all too much. I told him I wanted to be friends for now. He’s sort of on board.”

“Because he really wishes he was cooking up something spicy with you,” she replied with a laugh.

I sighed. “He brought me ice cream.”

Tam cleared her throat. “What flavor?”

“Vanilla Toffee,” I said weakly, and I heard Tam gasp. “I know, I know,” I said. “But I’m trying to take this one step at a time.”

“Gotcha,” she said. “Well, I love your condo. I’m not there much right now due to Professor Plum, but I really like it. Great location.”

“Ooh, I want to meet him. That is, if you’re ready for that.”

“Definitely. When are you coming down to feed D-Dawg?”

“D-Dawg?” I scrunched up my nose at the nickname. “Where did you hear that one?”

“The new sportscaster has been calling him that. Too cheesy, right?”

“I think so. Yeah, I’m making my schedule around his, so this week, I’m taking Friday and Saturday as my weekend. I’ll be down on Friday afternoon with a ton of food for him. Are you free?”

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