Read Online Lucy Wagner Gets In Shape (A Romantic Comedy) by Claire Matthews - Free Book Online
Authors: Claire Matthews
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the teaching theater and Will goes up front to get his materials together. I join Jenny near the back of the room, and we both give him a “thumbs up”. He squints at us and gives a surreptitious thumb back, and then old Dr. Northrup is introducing him to the crowd.
For the next hour, I am mesmerized by Will. I mean, completely floored. I’ve seen him teach before, but mainly in graduate seminars, where the students actually do most of the teaching, and the professor just kind of sits back and oversees the proceedings. But Will is really on today, and he’s brilliant! He’s invigorating, and insightful, and he can make a talk on the implications of institutional bias on parliamentary behavior… funny ! I feel a little tremor go down my spine, and settle in the pit of my stomach. I know it’s because I’m so proud of him. When I look over at Jen, she’s studying me, with a very weird look on her face. Very weird.
“What?” The talk is over, and Will’s chatting with some members of the audience. Everyone is laughing and backslapping, even Dr. Lance, who’s usually about as animated as a snail.
“Nothing.” But she’s got a sneaky little smile, and I know something’s up.
“Bullshit it’s nothing.” But I don’t even care, I’m too busy pushing her shoulder excitedly. “Wasn’t he fantastic? God, that was just brilliant. Did you see Brightman laugh ? Honest to God, I thought I was hallucinating for a second. And Dr. Avants asked him three questions. Three! ”
“He did very well,” Jen says demurely. Who is she, the fucking Queen?
“Who are you, the fucking Queen?” I never hold back with Jen.
“He did great. It doesn’t mean I have to fan girl all over him. Like some people,” she adds pointedly.
“What?” I sputter, but then Will’s in front of us, and I abandon my indignation.
“You were fab, Wilbur!” I jump up and give him a big hug, and he slings his arm around my waist loosely.
“Not bad, Fisher,” Jen grins up at him. “I’d give you tenure. But then again, who the hell am I?”
“Who the hell are you?” Will asks incredulously. “Who the hell are you ? You’re one of the two girls taking me out to get plastered this afternoon. As in, right now. I mean it. Now,” Will insists, picking up our purses from the floor and shoving them into our chests impatiently. We make our way to The Duck and order a bucket of beer. The place is pretty empty, since it’s only four o’clock, but by the time the after-work crowd starts filing in, we’ve all got a nice little buzz going.
“So, do you think Lance will call tonight?” I ask. Immediately after Will’s talk, the faculty met and voted on Will’s tenure bid. They’ve already had his packet for a week, and everyone has had a chance to look over his publications and student evaluations. Although today’s talk might have swayed one or two votes, the decision about Will’s tenure was probably made long before today. Now all we have to do is wait for the call from Professor Lance, who is the head of the tenure and review committee.
“I dunno, I didn’t ask. I didn’t want to sound too eager.”
“Geez, Will, what’s wrong with sounding eager? Your entire future is on the line here!” I’ve had a few beers, so I say all this rather dramatically. The bartender shoots me a suspicious glance. It’s one of those “will I be kicking her out of here later?” glances.
“Wow, thanks.” Will says dryly.
“Sorry.” I start peeling the label off of my Bud Light. “I’m sure he’ll call tonight. Does he have your cell number?” And now I’m obsessing.
“Girl, leave him alone,” Jen laughs, and we all try our best to relax. And by ‘try our best to relax,’ I mean drink beer until Jenny and I are belting out old New Kids on the Block songs at the top of our lungs, and Will is hugging the beer bucket against his cheek, chanting “shut up, shut up, shut up.”
Around nine o’clock, Dax comes to join us, and
For the next hour, I am mesmerized by Will. I mean, completely floored. I’ve seen him teach before, but mainly in graduate seminars, where the students actually do most of the teaching, and the professor just kind of sits back and oversees the proceedings. But Will is really on today, and he’s brilliant! He’s invigorating, and insightful, and he can make a talk on the implications of institutional bias on parliamentary behavior… funny ! I feel a little tremor go down my spine, and settle in the pit of my stomach. I know it’s because I’m so proud of him. When I look over at Jen, she’s studying me, with a very weird look on her face. Very weird.
“What?” The talk is over, and Will’s chatting with some members of the audience. Everyone is laughing and backslapping, even Dr. Lance, who’s usually about as animated as a snail.
“Nothing.” But she’s got a sneaky little smile, and I know something’s up.
“Bullshit it’s nothing.” But I don’t even care, I’m too busy pushing her shoulder excitedly. “Wasn’t he fantastic? God, that was just brilliant. Did you see Brightman laugh ? Honest to God, I thought I was hallucinating for a second. And Dr. Avants asked him three questions. Three! ”
“He did very well,” Jen says demurely. Who is she, the fucking Queen?
“Who are you, the fucking Queen?” I never hold back with Jen.
“He did great. It doesn’t mean I have to fan girl all over him. Like some people,” she adds pointedly.
“What?” I sputter, but then Will’s in front of us, and I abandon my indignation.
“You were fab, Wilbur!” I jump up and give him a big hug, and he slings his arm around my waist loosely.
“Not bad, Fisher,” Jen grins up at him. “I’d give you tenure. But then again, who the hell am I?”
“Who the hell are you?” Will asks incredulously. “Who the hell are you ? You’re one of the two girls taking me out to get plastered this afternoon. As in, right now. I mean it. Now,” Will insists, picking up our purses from the floor and shoving them into our chests impatiently. We make our way to The Duck and order a bucket of beer. The place is pretty empty, since it’s only four o’clock, but by the time the after-work crowd starts filing in, we’ve all got a nice little buzz going.
“So, do you think Lance will call tonight?” I ask. Immediately after Will’s talk, the faculty met and voted on Will’s tenure bid. They’ve already had his packet for a week, and everyone has had a chance to look over his publications and student evaluations. Although today’s talk might have swayed one or two votes, the decision about Will’s tenure was probably made long before today. Now all we have to do is wait for the call from Professor Lance, who is the head of the tenure and review committee.
“I dunno, I didn’t ask. I didn’t want to sound too eager.”
“Geez, Will, what’s wrong with sounding eager? Your entire future is on the line here!” I’ve had a few beers, so I say all this rather dramatically. The bartender shoots me a suspicious glance. It’s one of those “will I be kicking her out of here later?” glances.
“Wow, thanks.” Will says dryly.
“Sorry.” I start peeling the label off of my Bud Light. “I’m sure he’ll call tonight. Does he have your cell number?” And now I’m obsessing.
“Girl, leave him alone,” Jen laughs, and we all try our best to relax. And by ‘try our best to relax,’ I mean drink beer until Jenny and I are belting out old New Kids on the Block songs at the top of our lungs, and Will is hugging the beer bucket against his cheek, chanting “shut up, shut up, shut up.”
Around nine o’clock, Dax comes to join us, and
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