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Within hours Arnold had begun packing the leather-bound tomes that lined the walls of his office.

Oh, what sweetness, what joy as, later that same evening, just as Rob, spent from love-making, sleepily pulled up the sheets, she whispered into his ear, “Guess what?”

And wasn’t it terrific that they’d been so discreet, that no one at the university knew that they were lovers? Now Rob’s application for the position could be tendered like any other candidate’s.

Any other, except, of course, that he had the advantage of being a known quantity. Well-liked by both students and faculty, Rob had done a terrific job with his classes. Yes, Rob definitely had the edge.

“Darlin’, you genius, you Wonder Woman!” He’d jumped out of bed and danced his happy dance. Then he’d grabbed Diana up and two-stepped her around the room.

He was a shoo-in, Diana exulted. He’d win the post, and then, and then... Well, after a semester or so it wouldn’t be so untoward, would it, if they were to “begin” dating? No, the age difference between them would never lessen, but with the change in Rob’s status, their having a liaison — and, well, who knew where that might lead? — wouldn’t be nearly so scandalous.

“When’s he going to tell her?” Chloe asked.

“Not for a while yet. The timing’s got to be right.”

Hmmm, thought Diana. Amber’s boyfriend already had another girl.

The church lady was shaking her head again.

From somewhere beyond the Mississippi, thunder rumbled, and the church lady rolled her eyes.

See? Lord don’t like that nonsense. That fooling around with somebody else’s man? You go doin’ that stuff, ain’t nobody gonna want you.

Oh, please. Diana read the church lady’s body language. It’s not that serious. Amber’s young, and men really are like streetcars. There’s always another one.

The stumbling block to Diana’s plan was the presence of those sworn enemies, Gloria and Phil, on the hiring committee. They — dammit — and Diana were the three designees from the English department, and while Phil gave Rob highest marks, Gloria was busy with equivocations.

Just to spite Phil.

The other five members, from various departments and branches of administration, were poised to approve Rob and get on with it. End of term and summer vacation were within sniffing distance. Everybody was antsy.

“I really think she has stronger qualifications,” said Gloria, tapping the application folder of a young blond thing from California. Yes, she’d interviewed beautifully, this smart cookie with the body of a Victoria’s Secret model.

“But her concentration is feminist theory. We don’t need another one of those,” said Phil.

“Now, wait a minute!” steamed Gloria, who was herself a feminist theorist.

Diana shook her head. What the hell was Gloria thinking? Did she really want a younger woman, particularly someone who looked like that, in her sandbox?

“Well,” said the dean, trying not to drool on the blonde’s app. “I have to agree, she is an attractive candidate.”

Diana was beside herself. She couldn’t support Rob too strongly for fear of arousing suspicion, though maybe that was just paranoia. Yet both Phil and Gloria would rather die than give an inch to the other.

“Well, what about Dawn Moriyama?” ventured another committee member.

Jesus. The Japanese-American candidate, a distant third on paper, and she’d stumbled badly in the interview. But once they got into ethnic-diversity territory, Diana’s ship would have sailed.

Phil looked at Gloria. Gloria looked at Phil. They both shrugged. Why not?

With that, Diana stood, collecting her papers. “We should sleep on this,” she insisted, slapping down her department chair’s prerogative like a trump card. “I think we’ve lost our way.”

Everyone groaned but agreed to one more meeting.

“He has so much to lose, if he doesn’t play it right,” said Amber.

The church lady shook her head so hard Diana thought she might cross the aisle, grab Amber, and shake her, too.

Now it sounded as if Amber were involved with a married man. A beautiful young thing like her, a whole world of gorgeous young single boys to choose from?

“You think she’s the vengeful type?” Chloe wondered.

She.

The wife.

“Do you think it’s possible,” Diana had said to Gloria, taking her arm as they crossed the quad after the committee meeting, “that your attitude toward Phil is clouding your judgment. Just a tad?”

Gloria had stiffened, pulled her arm free, and turned to Diana with a blank stare. “No,” she said flatly. “I don’t.”

“Now, Gloria...”

“Don’t you Now, Gloria me. I just don’t happen to think Rob is the best candidate.”

“You know Moriyama’s not going to make the cut. Do you really want that young hottie lusting after your classes?”

Gloria recoiled, then struck. “Don’t talk to me about young hotties, Diana. Not when you’re throwing all your weight behind your own.”

Just like that. Gut-shot, Diana reeled. Her skin stung with a thousand pricks of adrenaline. Her world tilted, whirled.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she finally managed.

“I think you do,” said Gloria with a wintry smile. “Just so you know, I’ve not discussed your... indiscretion... with anyone else.”

So clever, Gloria, hoarding her intelligence like gold until it would bring the greatest yield.

“I’ll give you Rob. You’ll give me the classes I want in perpetuity. And the editorship of the journal.”

“Gloria, even if there were reason to...”

Gloria’s smile was cruel. She had the goods, and she knew it.

“I can’t guarantee...”

“I’m sure you’ll work it out.” With that, Gloria gave Diana her back and strode away. Then she paused, turned. “Pleasure grows ever more expensive, don’t you know, Diana, as time moves along.”

Blackmail. That’s what it was. Blackmail, plain and simple. After she picked up her car should she drive to the NOPD district office on Magazine and report Gloria? Or did blackmail fall under Vice, housed on South Broad?

Right. Diana could just hear herself explaining the situation to a cop up to his ears in murder, home invasion, tourist muggings, drugs, child abuse, and the thousand and one other felonies perpetrated in New Orleans every day. The city was a sewer of crime.

No. Gloria had her. There were no two ways around it. Diana had been furious and sick with disbelief.

Though now that she’d this streetcar ride to collect herself a bit, to reflect, and to taste once more through the mouth of memory the many pleasures of her sweetheart, she’d realized her id would allow no other choice: If this were the price of keeping Rob, so be it.

But she still needed to frame her response to Gloria. Generous but cool, that was the ticket. Agreeable, yet firm. God forbid that Gloria think she now had carte blanche.

Maybe what she ought to do, after she picked up Picayune, her much-loved little brown Mercedes 280L roadster, was turn up her tape of Tina Turner’s “Proud Mary” and take the causeway to her favorite dive in Abita Springs. Soothe herself with an oyster po’boy and a couple of beers. Yes, the long drive across the lake always cleared her head.