"The Faculty Club" - читать интересную книгу автора (Tobey Danny)

2

Ernesto Bernini’s office was filled with books-on the shelves, on his desk, on the floor. It would take a hundred years to read all those books, I thought. There was no computer, but stacks of paper were everywhere. The overhead lights were off, and a lamp cast a small orange circle on his desk. The moon shone in through the window, throwing a blue-white glow over the rest of the room.

“Sit down, Mr. Davis,” the professor said kindly, stepping toward me and extending his hand toward a chair. He sat close by on the edge of his desk and fixed me with those rapacious eyes.

“How tall are you?” the professor asked.

“Six-one, sir.”

He nodded.

“Can you guess the last time we elected a shorter than average president?” He didn’t wait for me to answer. “William McKinley. One hundred and six years ago. Isn’t that funny? In a world of ideas, height still matters.”

He shook his head.

“I didn’t know that, sir,” I said, then cursed myself for sounding so stupid.

“That’s okay,” he said, chuckling. “The potential is there.”

I wasn’t sure I was being complimented, but I said thank you anyway.

He leaned in closer.

“Good bone structure,” he said, his eyes moving over my face. Suddenly, I wished I could somehow move my chair a couple of inches without being rude. There was nothing sexual in the way he was looking at me; rather, I felt like a prize heifer being appraised by a rancher. “Strong jaw. Cheekbones could be a bit more prominent, but oh well. You can’t have everything, can you?”

For some reason, I thought of an old friend of mine whose dad was a music teacher. He said his dad could tell what instrument a student would be good at, just by looking at the bones of his face.

Bernini smiled, satisfied, and leaned back.

“I read your article in the Coleman Law Review,” he said. “Very impressive, publishing in a law review as a college student.”

“You read that, sir?”

“You seem surprised.”

“I just… it’s kind of an obscure journal. I’m not sure the people who work there read it.”

Professor Bernini laughed and clapped his hands. “Nevertheless, I was impressed. Interesting ideas. I’m thinking of citing you in my next article. That will raise your stock a little, eh?” He hopped off the desk and opened a window, letting a burst of cold air into the room. His breath came out in plumes of white mist, and he pushed the window closed against the wind.

“When did it get so cold out there?” He rubbed his hands together briskly. “Now, you’re probably wondering why you’re here.” He grinned at me. “I think you have potential, Jeremy. I liked your answer in class today. It was honest and thoughtful. I’d like you to be my research assistant this semester, if you’re willing.”

“Yes, sir. Of course.”

“Good. It’s settled then. For tomorrow, I’ll need a summary of every case that has cited Marshall v. City of Allegheny. That’s all for now, Mr. Davis.”

He turned his attention to papers on his desk, as if I were already gone. I thanked him and backed out quickly. Research assistant? Holy shit! I thought. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. This was it. This was the transformation. I’d always thought of law as a way to help people, the way my grandfather had helped people, but this was something totally different. A window had just opened to power, the good kind of power, greatness even. My grandfather helped a dozen clients a year. I could pass a law and help millions of people. I could negotiate peace between two countries and end a war. That was the game I was being asked to join now. And-I let my mind wander just a bit-there could be travel, to foreign capitals on important missions, perhaps escorted by beautiful women like Daphne Goodwin who one week ago were in a different universe than I was, but now it was suddenly plausible. More than plausible. I imagined myself in a tuxedo in exotic places with Daphne pressed up next to me-Spanish castles, Italian villas, Greek islands…

I had to catch myself. It was a research assignment. I had a long night ahead of me in the library. I wasn’t sure I even knew how to do what he’d asked. I hoped the librarians were helpful.

I was halfway down the hall to the elevator, when, from behind, I heard the professor say something strange to himself.

“V and D, perhaps?”

V and D? What was he talking about?

“We’ll see,” said a second voice.

I looked back, just in time to see the door close.