Read Online Been There, Done That by Carol Snow - Free Book Online Page B

face indicated that pissed-off was her normal state. She wore janitorial green and held a bottle of disinfectant in a hand that was dried and cracked from too much exposure to harsh chemicals.
    “I’m sorry,” I began. “I didn’t mean to intrude.” Miss Manners would be impressed. Tim would not.
    “You get the letter?”
    “Letter?”
    “They send it every year, tells you where you’re living, who you’re living with. Tells you when to show up. For freshmen, that’d be August twenty-eighth.”
    I stared at her. “Freshman? You think I’m a freshman?”
    “Or sophomore or junior or whatever. You think I really care?”
    I held up my hands, ready to spill all. After all, Tim felt it appropriate to reveal our true identity to Gerry the bartender. Surely it would be time for me to pull out my press badge if I had such a thing. “I guess I should explain myself. My name is—”
    There was a knock on the already-open door: Tim. “The place is looking great,” he informed Broomhilda. “You’re obviously working very hard.”
    The lines in her face softened. I can’t believe the kind of crap some people fall for. “It’s a big job,” she said. “Just gets harder”—she shot me any ugly look “—when the students try getting into their rooms early.”
    I grinned at Tim. “She thinks I’m a freshman.”
    He began to smirk, then froze. He stared at me. Something very, very bad had just happened but I didn’t yet know what it was. A slow smile crept across his face. “You must admit—you do look young for a junior.”

nine
    I said no. He said chance of a lifetime. I said forget it. He said national exposure. I said absolutely not and let’s get on with things. He said my boss would be disappointed. I said Richard would never know.
    “Wouldn’t he?”
    “You’d tell Richard I wouldn’t go undercover?” I could feel my face growing hot. We were sitting on my couch. I clutched a throw pillow and pretended it was his neck.
    “Of course not.”
    “Then let’s talk about other ways to research this thing.” I released the pillow and retrieved my pad and pen from the coffee table.
    He stretched his arms up and folded them behind his head. He looked at the ceiling. “But it might creep into the conversation.”
    “I can’t believe you would do that to me! I can’t believe you’ve become that nasty!” My voice was getting tight and borderline tearful.
    “I was kidding.”
    “I don’t think you were.” I suggested we try Chantal again, but Tim was convinced she had nothing to do with the college—and might not even be a hooker. “Then what is she?” I asked.
    “Sex addict?” he tried.
    “Maybe that’s why she couldn’t keep her hands off you,” I snapped, remembering the way Chantal had edged away from Tim on the couch.
     
It went on like this for days. Even after he returned to Washington, he would call me at odd hours. He wouldn’t even bother to say hello, just start in with, “I’d kill for an opportunity like this. I’d do it in a minute if I looked young enough.” He’d shame me. “For once in your life, live up to your potential.” He’d flatter me. “You’re a talented journalist. This is the perfect opportunity to showcase your talent.” He even sent me a FedEx package; inside was my picture glued to a cover of Time magazine, with “Woman of the Year” printed on the bottom. Tim had always been a closet cheeseball.
    I held strong. I pretended I didn’t like him calling me every day. And Tim didn’t share his plan with Richard. In the end, though, it was Richard himself who pushed me over the edge.
    Richard called the staff into his office for a meeting. Richard and Sheila were the only ones at Salad with offices. The rest of us lived in second-hand cubicles picked up from an Italian food products company that was going out of business. On hot days, the office smelled like garlic.
    Richard’s huge office, on the other hand, perpetually stank of Polo