The Code of Buddyhood, page 13
“It wasn’t easy to communicate with him,” Mark explained. “He was not in a chatty mood and spoke mostly in sub-gutteral grunting noises. But eventually I convinced him I was not the man who had cuckolded him. Or tried, anyway. I redirected his energies.”
Bobby didn’t much care for the sound of that. “Redirected him to whom?”
“I gave him a long drawn-out tale about how they met at a frat party, how he swept Yvonne off her feet, how he did wicked things to her body and later told the guys all about it. I even suggested there were photographs somewhere.”
“Yes?”
“And then I showed him the picture of Bobo in the paper and gave him directions to the Beta house.”
“You sicced him on Bobo!” Bobby thought about it for a moment. “That’s not bad. Pretty good, actually.”
Mark shrugged. “It was the best I could do on the spur of the moment. I must admit”—he turned to look at Bobby—“I didn’t see that little prank coming.”
Bobby suppressed a smile. “But we digress. Are we going to play this song or not?”
“Okay,” Mark said. “Annie, listen to this, sweetheart. I don’t think you’ve heard this one before.”
Annie didn’t look up. “I have to have this resolution ready by five o’clock.”
“There you go. Another worrier.”
“This has to be good,” she muttered. “Even more so than usual. It’s very important.”
“Give me a break. Student Congress is about as far from important as anything I can imagine.”
“I don’t appreciate that, Mark. I’ve put a lot of time and energy into UOSA.”
“Yes, but what have you ever accomplished? This resolution won’t be any more effective than last week’s resolution on pornographic video games.”
“I thought that made an important statement.”
Mark snorted. “No one cares what a lot of do-gooding college students think.”
Annie drummed her pencil on the coffee table. “If this is your way of persuading me to listen to your song, Mark, it isn’t working.”
“Amen,” Bobby interjected. “I think you need a cold shower or something, Mark. You’re getting on everyone’s nerves. Let’s just forget about the song.”
“I don’t want to forget about the song,” Mark said. “You wanted to play the song—fine, let’s play the damn song. I think it’s one of the best songs I’ve written,” he told Annie. He began to play.
Bobby took a deep breath. Then another deep breath. He knew he should let it go, but he just couldn’t. “Don’t you mean, at the least, one of the best songs we’ve written?”
“Oh . . .” Mark winked at Annie. “Whatever you say.” He grinned, then resumed strumming his guitar.
“What do you mean?” Bobby said. “You know damn well I wrote this song. I wrote the music, and I told you what chords to play so you could follow along. To be fair, I may have integrated some of your suggestions into the lyrics.”
“Right, right, right. Let’s just play the song.”
Bobby’s face tightened. “Well, it’s true.” He looked at Annie. “It is!”
“Good God.” Annie slammed her notebook closed. “Maybe it would be best if I left.”
“No, don’t go,” Bobby said. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shouted.”
Annie gathered her purse and books. “It’s all right. I’ll get more work done at my place. Ciao.” She gave Mark a quick kiss, then left.
Bobby flopped back down on the piano bench. This was not the result he’d been seeking. He just wanted Annie to understand what she was hearing when she heard it. Now she wouldn’t hear it at all, at least not until after Mark had a chance to feed her some self-serving, credit-grabbing humor-the-poor-kid story that would defeat the whole purpose.
“I didn’t mean to make her leave,” Bobby said. “I’m sorry.”
Mark smiled thinly. “Yeah. I bet you are.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. I’m just surprised you didn’t run after her and ask if she was free tonight that’s all.”
Bobby closed the lid on the piano, considerably harder than necessary. “I can’t believe you would say that, even in jest. You know I wouldn’t do that. It’s against the Code, man.”
“Uh-huh. Right.”
“I’m sorry Annie got mad. I’m sure she’ll get over it.”
“Don’t worry about me . . . buddy. I actually prefer it when we’ve had a disagreement, or been separated for a while. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, you know? And a little disagreement can stir up a lot of passion.”
Bobby felt a familiar nauseous twang in his stomach. “So things are still going pretty well with you two?”
“Couldn’t be better, buddy. Could not be better.” He wrapped the capo around the top fret of the guitar. “In fact, I’d say things have been dynamite. The depth and breadth of our relationship never ceases to astonish me.”
“Sex is pretty good, huh?”
Mark took his pick and strummed in a minor key. “The dimensions of our relationship go far beyond the evanescent pleasures of a casual romp in the hay. We’ve made plans for the future, buddy boy. Big plans.”
Bobby tried to sound nonchalant. “Really? What kind of plans?”
“Well, for starters, she’s definitely moving in with me Saturday afternoon.”
“And after that?”
“Annie wants a career in public service. She’ll start out small, at the community service level, and probably end up running for Congress or something. I, being a modern progressive liberal male, have no problem with that. My manhood is not threatened.” He laughed. “On the contrary, as long as she stocks me with guitars, I’ll be a happily kept man.”
“What about you? Haven’t you got some modern, progressive liberal career in mind?”
“I’m going to pursue a career in music, of course,” Mark said. “I know it will be tough, and not very profitable at first, but I’m willing to make that sacrifice.”
“And what does Annie say about this unlikely and rather nebulous career plan?”
“Annie supports me one hundred percent. She says she’d be disappointed in me if I chose any other path.”
It’s a good thing Annie supports you now, Bobby thought, because she’ll surely be supporting you later. “Well, who knows,” Bobby said, “maybe this Crystal’s audition will put us on the road to fame and fortune.”
Mark stopped playing. After several moments of hesitation, he said, “Look, Bobby . . . I was just thinking. Since you’re going to be busy with this Abbott imbroglio all week, and you’re the first to admit you’re all tensed up and haven’t really got your shit together, why don’t I just plan to play solo at the audition? Probably take a big load off your mind.”
Bobby couldn’t believe it. Deep down he’d known it was coming, but he still couldn’t believe it. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?” he said quietly. “To play solo. An unshared spotlight.”
Mark shook his head vigorously. “No, no. You’ve got it all wrong. I was just thinking about this week, and your problems with Abbott, and everything else. I thought you’d consider it a favor.”
“Right. Like after I’ve been practicing for this audition for two months, it would be a favor to me for you to play it solo.”
“If it’s going to be a big deal, then we’ll play together.” Mark returned his attention to his guitar. “I just hope you’re up to it, that’s all.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. Stop being so goddamned oversensitive. We’ll play together, like you said. I just hope you don’t blow it for both of us.”
Bobby stood up and walked into the kitchenette.
After a minute Mark joined him there. “Tell me more about this Abbott situation. Maybe I can figure a way out of this for you.”
Bobby opened the refrigerator, then slammed it shut. “Thanks very kindly, but I can solve my problems myself.”
“Oh, don’t be stupid, Bobby. Left to yourself, you’ll probably give Abbott a signed confession. You know you always take the chicken way out.”
“How can you say that? After all the crap I’ve gone through with you!”
“You mean, after all the crap I’ve dragged you kicking and screaming through. You always have to be prodded to do anything that requires the merest soupcon of guts.” He leaned across the kitchen counter. “We’re talking serious self-image problems here, Bobby. Insecure, neurotic, compulsive, the works. And for the record, it’s not too hard to figure out what your stuttering is related to either.”
“I don’t know where you get these half-baked pseudo-Freudian ideas of yours. Some people really shouldn’t be permitted a higher education. It’s dangerous.” Bobby pulled a coin out of his pocket and slammed it down on the kitchen counter. “Here’s a nickel for the analysis, Lucy. Say hello to Charlie Brown for me.”
“Don’t be such an asshole.”
“And for the record, I was a hell of a lot braver than you when we snatched Fred.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Facts are facts, Mark. You were scared shitless. Who had to bed down with the corpse? Who figured out how to carry him? Who grabbed the—” He stopped short. “The notebook.”
Mark looked puzzled. “What?”
A slow smile crept across Bobby’s face. He grabbed Mark’s head with both hands and kissed him on the forehead.
“I forgive you,” Bobby said. He grabbed his coat and ran out the door.
Sixteen
Bobby spotted an empty seat in the third row on the floor of the Lloyd Noble Auditorium. This concrete cavern was normally only used for basketball games and rock concerts; if the physical sciences department managed to get it for the entire afternoon, something big had to be in the works.
The assembly had not yet begun, but as Bobby took his seat, he could see Abbott shuffling around with several important-looking officials. Bobby couldn’t read their badges, but he was sure they were members of the McGonigle committee.
Bobby fidgeted with the black notebook. He wasn’t sure how to proceed. He’d gone to Abbott’s office and been told Abbott was here, preparing for a special assembly. It had to be related to the McGonigle grant. And that meant he had to get to Abbott fast, before a major announcement was made.
Scanning the crowd, Bobby noticed that he was sitting just in front of the redheaded girl from his physiology lab, Haji’s lab partner.
He smiled at her. What was her name again? He still couldn’t come up with it.
“So you decided to turn out for this farce too,” she said. “I’m surprised you can bear it, after all the grief Abbott has given you in class.”
Bobby shrugged.
“I mean, I find this whole thing very difficult to believe. Seventy-five thousand dollars to study rats’ whiskers? Give me a break.” She glanced at the stage. “And it’s not even Abbott’s field. He’s spent forty-five years accomplishing nothing in human physiology, then suddenly he’s a genius on rodent respiratory systems? It doesn’t make any sense.”
Silently, Bobby marveled at her insight.
“So why are you here?”
Bobby swallowed. He realized that, once again, he was acting like a goon. He was going to have to speak aloud soon or she would totally write him off. On the other hand, if he started stuttering, she’d be certain he was a goon.
He cleared his throat, then wished he hadn’t. It really was a gross noise. “I . . . um . . . need to talk to Abbott.”
Her brow creased slightly. “It couldn’t wait for class?”
Bobby shook his head. “No. Definitely not.”
“You’re going to have a hard time getting his attention today. He’s really eating up all this attention. I guess this is the biggest academic honor OU’s had in some time, and they’re going all out for him. You’d think he was a war hero or something.”
“It’s final, then?”
“I assume so. They’ve canceled all the science classes for this assembly. I don’t think it’s been announced officially, but it must be in the bag or they wouldn’t be making all this fuss. They’ll probably make the announcement once this assembly gets under way.”
Bobby looked up at the stage. Abbott and his entourage were hovering around the chairs, obviously preparing to sit down. Abbott was shuffling from one person to the next shaking hands, chatting, slapping people on the back. He had a very self-satisfied look on his face.
“I need to talk with him before this thing gets started,” Bobby said, more to himself than anyone else.
“Maybe you should have him paged,” the redhead suggested.
“What?”
“You could have him paged. Go to one of those pay phones in the lobby of the auditorium, talk to the receptionist, and tell her you need to speak to Abbott. You’d better tell her you’re a relative and there’s been an emergency of some sort, or she’ll probably just blow you off.”
Bobby rubbed his chin. “I suppose it might work.”
“You need to go now. The program is about to begin.”
“You’re right.” Bobby stood up slowly. “Save me a seat, okay? For later.”
She smiled a little. “Sure.”
Bobby watched Abbott shuffle into Conference Room D, looking hurried and stressed and extremely unhappy. When Abbott saw him, his lips curled.
“What in the name of all that’s holy is the meaning of this, Miss-ter Beresford? Where is my nephew?”
“Beats hell out of me,” Bobby replied, trying to remain calm. “I didn’t even know you had a nephew. Just a lucky guess.”
“So this is another one of your malicious pranks? I might have known. A dying gasp before you are expelled from this university for all time. In case you haven’t figured it out, the McGonigle committee has decided to award the grant to me, despite your pathetic attempt to destroy my career. I don’t need your testimony anymore. That leaves me free to deal with you as you deserve.” He opened the door. “I haven’t got time for you right now. But I will.”
“I think you’d better hear me out, Professor.”
Abbott stopped. “What do you mean? Is this some sort of threat?”
“No threat. Just a bit of advice.”
“Psssh. I have a grant to receive.”
“Wrong.” Bobby inhaled deeply, fortifying himself. “You’re not going to get the grant.”
“I will. It is a fait accompli.”
“No,” Bobby repeated, “you’re not going to get the grant because you’re going to withdraw from the competition.”
Abbott’s face was livid. “I’m calling the security guards, who are posted just outside this door. They will remove you forcibly and permanently from this building. In fact, I think I’ll have you removed from this campus, because for all intents and purposes, you are no longer a student!”
“You lied to the selection committee,” Bobby said. “And I can prove it.”
Abbott’s upper lip twitched.
“You didn’t do the research on the role of whiskers in the respiration of rodentia. As stupid as the whole project sounds, it’s still way beyond your capabilities. One of your graduate students, a woman named Madeline Gusay, did it four years ago. I don’t know where she is now, but I’ll bet she doesn’t know you’ve ripped off a year’s worth of her research.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Abbott said. “This is an outrageous pack of lies. You have no way of proving these malicious accusations.” It was both a statement and a question.
Bobby tried to remain calm. He had never done anything like this before in his life; this was the kind of stuff Mark did, not him. He felt dizzy, sweaty, and nauseous. “As I said, I can prove it.” Bobby reached into his jacket and withdrew a black notebook, the notebook the professor left in the phys lab. “It’s all here, Abbott. Madeline Gusay’s final report. Names, dates, research notes. That’s the real reason you were so uptight about the body-snatching incident, wasn’t it? It wasn’t the cadaver you wanted back. It was the notebook.”
Bobby took a step forward. “You know what the most disgusting part of this is? You gave this woman a C and discouraged her from continuing her work. She’s probably an unhappy housewife in Schenectady now, all because you wanted to rip off her research to bolster your own mediocre career. Shame on you, Professor Abbott. Shame on you.” He paused. “My mother would be so disappointed.”
Abbott leaned forward and tried to snatch the notebook. Bobby stepped out of his reach. “I don’t think so, Professor. And don’t try to outmuscle me either. I could take you with one hand tied behind my back.” Bobby hoped that was true, although privately he had some doubts.
Abbott’s teeth clicked and clattered. “I’m calling the security guards.”
“It won’t do you any good. I’ve already made two copies of the notebook and given them to my friends. If anything happens to me, say, incarceration, or a mysterious disappearance, they’ll go public. Everyone on campus will know what a lying cheat you are.”
Abbott’s lips trembled for a moment. He appeared to be muttering something Bobby couldn’t hear. Finally he fell disjointedly into a chair. His chest seemed to deflate. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “You’re absolutely right. I have had a mediocre career. I’ve been a teacher, and a good one, I think. I tried to be. But I was never much good in the laboratory. I couldn’t come up with the ideas. That initial creative spark was the one thing God always denied me.” His eyes clouded over. “So I tried to fill the gap. By doing this horrible deed. Your mother would be disappointed. She’d be . . . ashamed. Of me.” His head fell. “What is it you want?”
Bobby’s mouth felt dry and sticky. His initial rush was fading. But there was no turning back now.
“As I said, you’re withdrawing from the McGonigle competition. That goes without saying. And I want an A in your course.”
“That’s impossible. I have academic standards to which I have adhered throughout my career.” He looked off in the other direction. “I’ll give you a C.”
“A-minus.”
