“I can’t believe I might never see him again,” I whine to Kimmy later that afternoon. I’m lying on my bed, and she’s sprawled on my rug. We’re studying for Monday’s Marketing quiz.
Smack.
“Ouch! What was that for?” I ask. There’s a red scratch on my leg from where Kimmy just hit me.
She rolls her eyes. “How can someone so hard-core in class be so lame when it comes to getting a guy? Just call him.”
“I can’t call him. I have no reason to call him. I’m not supposed to fall for an applicant. What reason would I possibly have to call him?”
She appears deep in thought. “What you need is a plan.”
“And I’m not lame with guys. I just don’t like to play games.”
“You don’t like to play at all. Are you sure you even like men? You wouldn’t flirt with Professor Jon, you wouldn’t go out with that guy who’s on the application committee with you, who’s adorable. What’s his name?”
“Dennis.”
“Right. And you’re not even going after Bradley. What’s your problem?”
I feel my cheeks flush. “I don’t have a problem. I like men. I just don’t like wasting my time with guys who won’t end up being good enough.”
“But you won’t know who’s wasting your time unless you play the game.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll play the game. Let’s get Bradley.”
She swings her legs around so she’s sitting cross-legged. “Time to use the marketing model.”
“Glad you’re finally finding a use for class.”
“About time, huh?” She rubs her hands together as though she’s setting them on fire. “These are the five Ps: product, positioning, price, promotion and packaging.”
“Perfect.”
“Okay, listen up. You’re the product. Now according to the textbook,” she says, flipping through the pages, “we’re supposed to figure out where you are in your life cycle. The choices are introduction, early growth, late growth, maturity, decline. Let’s say you’re in your late-growth phase.”
“Hold on. Am I the product, or is the relationship between Bradley and me the product?”
“You’re the product. We’re selling you to him. Let’s plot you on a perceptual map.” She draws a cross on her paper. “Let’s make the X-axis represent sexy versus pretty, the Y-axis studious versus fun. I would put you somewhere in the studious/pretty quadrant.”
“Hey,” I say. “I’m fun.”
“More studious than fun.”
“And what quadrant are you in? The sexy/fun quadrant?”
She examines her drawing. “Yup. Cool. If we were both products in the same company, we would totally avoid cannibalization for the company.”
“Yeah, because no one would want the pretty and smart one!”
She hits me on the leg again. “Are you crazy? Who doesn’t want a pretty and smart girlfriend?”
“This is the most absurd argument I’ve ever had. And why can’t I be both pretty and sexy? What’s the next P?”
“Pricing.”
“Perfect,” I say. “I’m free.”
“Yeah, right. What about fancy dinners? Jewelry? Roses?”
In relative terms, I’m no longer the insane one. “Next.”
“Promotion,” she says. “The most important thing about an ad campaign is that it catches the attention of the target audience, communicates key information and is memorable.” She looks up at me. “We can work with this one. How should we advertise you?”
Definitely crazy. “I’ve always wanted to be on a Times Square billboard.”
She rolls her eyes. “Can you be serious for a second? Our key message is that you’re smart, pretty and available. Our target audience is Bradley Green. Obviously. The positioning…”
“Can I be on top?”
She rolls her eyes. “It’s always about sex with you, huh? We should position you as smarter and better than the average girl. The best catch. And now placement. Hmm. That’s the toughest one. Where will he see you?”
“He’ll only see me if he comes to LWBS next year. That’s the problem. See? It won’t work.”
“Can’t you see him in Manhattan anywhere? Don’t you know where his job is?”
“Yeah. But I’m not taking the Manhattan Group job. So we’re not going to be in the same building. I suppose I could stalk him where he lives…his address is in the application.”
She shakes her head. “Not a good plan. You’ll be depending on his coming and going, and you need to be the one in control. And there are laws against annoying doormen. Maybe he can have an interview with LWBS? And you can interview him?”
“LWBS only interviews when you’re on the waiting list. And he already got accepted. Unless…” Idea! Idea! Idea!
“What?”
“Well, I came for a tour last year. You know, to see the school. Didn’t you?” Doesn’t everyone?
“No,” she says. “I couldn’t afford to fly across the country for no reason.”
No reason? Only her future! “Anyway, maybe he’s planning on coming.”
“That would be perfect. You could be his tour guide. He’ll fall in love. It’ll be perfect.”
“So all I have to do is sign up as a tour guide and find out if he’s coming.”
“Brilliant.”
It’s four o’clock. Maybe I should go now. To check if he’s signed up. No point in me obsessing about it all weekend, if he’s not even coming. “Where are my boots? I’m going to see if this is a possibility.”
She laughs. “This second?”
There they are. I zip them up and wrap my scarf around my neck. I won’t let myself wimp out again. “Be back in a sec.”
I grab my jacket and skip back to the Katz building. Dorothy is still in her office. “Hey,” I say. “How do I go about volunteering to do school tours?”
“You walk around showing people where to go?”
Who knew she had a sense of humor? “Ha-ha. I meant, if I want to volunteer, who do I talk to?”
“Just go sign yourself up. The application room is still unlocked, and the computer should still be on. Just use your task-force password and sign up for the groups you want to lead.”
I feel like I have the key to the golden city. I sign on, then search through upcoming tour groups, looking for Bradley Green. His name is nowhere. How am I supposed to be his tour guide if he hasn’t signed up for a tour?
Foiled!
kimmy has a heart-to-heart
Sunday, February 8, 12:37 a.m.
“What do you want to do this coming Saturday?” I ask.
We’re lying in my bed. We’ve already had sex and are now watching Daredevil. He’s recently realized that his laptop doubles as a DVD player. I keep dozing off. You’d think Ben Affleck would keep me more awake, but with the laptop balanced on Russ’s knees, whenever he shifts I see a glare on the screen instead of the movie. I noticed that Layla has the entire Sex and the City series on DVD in her room. Maybe Russ’ll watch it with me. I’ve never watched a single episode. I know now that the series is over, people will probably stop talking about it, but I might as well catch up.
Boring. “Russ?”
“Hmm?” He doesn’t take his eyes off the screen.
“Saturday night is Valentine’s Day.” As soon as I mention the V-word I feel stupid. Do you celebrate Valentine’s Day with your mistress? Maybe that’s a faux pas.
His ears flush. So cute. Does he have something planned? Maybe he’s surprising me with a romantic dinner. Or with breaking up with Sharon.
“Actually…” he says.
Pause. “Yes?”
“Well…”
Pause again. “Well, what?”
“Sharon is coming this weekend.”
What? Panic grabs hold of my throat and squeezes. “Coming here? To school?”
He squirms, and the laptop slips off his legs, banging me in the knee. “Yeah. She wants to visit.”
Visit? What? “Why can’t you go and visit her?”
He shrugs. “I was just there. She wants to see how I live.”