Getting In (Amanda's Trilogy) (9 page)

Jennifer’s eyes close and she leans back in her seat. I hear her whisper, “Jesus.”

“I don’t think Jesus is in this room. Start talking.”

She crosses her arms across her chest, and looks off at a distant point over my shoulder. “When you accepted our … my invitation, you did so freely and willingly.”

“I’m not so sure my father would see it that way.”

Jennifer’s pixie face pales, but she quickly regains her composure. “Probably not.”

Then she gives me the frank, direct look of the old Jennifer. The commanding Jennifer.

“But you enjoyed it, didn’t you, Amanda? You enjoyed almost every minute of your short time here. We let you peek into a secret keyhole, and you’ve seen a world you weren’t really sure existed beyond your pretty Park Avenue life. A world you suspected existed, even wished existed. We may not know each other very well, but I know more about you than you think. You want
in
to that world. You want to explore it, play with it, control it. And now you sit before me in your designer clothes, twiddling your $500 lowlights, and try to scare me into thinking I’ve done something wrong? No, Amanda,
you’re
the one who’s making the wrong move. I want you think carefully before you make one the most regrettable moves of your life.”

The last part comes out sounding ominous. I can see why some would find Jennifer Angstrom frightening and why she’s probably an effective at getting weaker people to submit to her demands.

But Jennifer Angstrom doesn’t even make my heart rate rise. I have zero fear of her.

“Here’s the deal …”

She laughs. “Oh, you’re going to negotiate, are you?” she sneers.

I hear the door at the back of the room open, and Jennifer looks up. She smiles, then quickly her face dissolves into a look of confusion, concern. I decide to keep my eyes straight ahead. In my peripheral vision, I see the figure of a very tall man.

“Amanda,” he says, pronouncing my name with a slight accent. “Amanda Prescott.”

I glance up. Stefan Angstrom stands there, his hands clasped together in front him, his expression almost … sad. My good manners suddenly kick in, and I start to stand up, but Stefan holds his hand out, as if to tell me to remain seated, which I do.
 

He stands silently, looking down at me with that mournful, serious expression, and I find myself looking back at him with equal intensity. Like I said, he’s tall … probably about 6’2” or 6’3”. The black suit he wears whispers of a private tailor in Milan. His entwined fingers are also long and thin; artist hands, my mother would call them. His hair, nearly black, is threaded with silver, which matches the silver on his wire glasses that give him an almost helpless, myopic look. Is he handsome? No, I wouldn’t say that. His features are even, his long nose is straight, his lips are finely drawn. I would say, though, that Stefan Angstrom is attractive in a very courtly, aristocratic way that you rarely see outside certain social circles in Europe.
 

I finally get why Lisette seemed so fascinated with him. His presence in this hideous salon actually transforms it so that the furnishings, the paintings, the gilt … all of it looks elegant and timeless. And in Stefan Angstrom’s presence, I’m aware of my heart pounding in my chest for the first time that night.

“A pleasure you could join us tonight,” he says, still watching me. “I’ve been watching you.”

His admittance is frank. He exhibits no embarrassment, no shame in it.

“Stefan, darling, I don’t know how much you heard …”

“I heard everything,” he interrupts in his accented English, suggesting of a boyhood education at Eton or Harrow. “I’m curious to hear what Amanda has to say.”

I swallow. I hope my voice doesn’t crack because my throat is so dry. “Here’s the deal,” I begin. “I’m in.” I can see out of the corner of my eye Jennifer relax. “But I have a few conditions.”

“They are …?” Stefan asks. He hasn’t moved a millimeter.

“First, I don’t obey.
Anyone
.”

“That’s not how it works …” Jennifer interrupts.

“Silence!” Stefan commands, holding his palm out to her. He doesn’t yell, but his voice is strong and deep. Jennifer blinks her eyes and looks away from both of us. “Continue,” he says to me.

“Second, I do as I like. And if I don’t like something, I can stop it.”

“And?”

“And I expect a Welcome to Lexington College letter in my mailbox by the end of the week.”

“Is there anything else, Amanda?”

I think for a few seconds. “Yes. In return I will remain silent about …
Getting In
, or whatever this is called, and I will honor your request for confidentiality. As long as my conditions are met, yours will be met, too.”

“These are your conditions?”

“And I’m free to make new ones as the need arises,” I add. “I think that’s it.”

I notice a small smile on Stefan’s lips. “Your terms are unprecedented, but acceptable,” he says. “We shall continue to work together.”

Jennifer looks as if she’s about to cry. “Stefan, this isn’t … this isn’t the plan we talked about.”

He looks down at her, his expression irritated. It’s almost as if he’s heard an annoying dog yap. “Nothing’s certain but change, Jennifer. You of all should know that.”

I stand up, taking the small clutch I’ve brought with me. I offer my hand to Stefan, but he simply looks down at it blankly, and I pull back awkwardly. Karma’s a bitch and all that.

“It has been a pleasure, Amanda. Good night. I will let Jennifer see you out.” He walks across the room and disappears through the door at the back of the room.
 

I turn back to Jennifer on the couch; she looks as if she’s been punched in the gut. I suppose in a way she has. However, she pulls herself together and stands up as Naoko enters the room. It dawns on me that some kind of hidden camera system must tell these people how to enter stage right and exit stage left around here.

“Naoko will show you out,” Jennifer says. She looks as if she’s aged twenty years in the last twenty minutes. Her eyes look tired, her face is gaunt, and the ugly sweater hangs dispiritedly from her thin shoulders. I offer my hand, and to her credit, she takes it.

Out in the entryway, Naoko and I go through the routine of exchanging slippers for shoes. I notice there’s been a delivery since I arrived. A small statue of a nude, a young male, half wrapped in padding and paper, stands near the discreet security counter. Before I slip the eye mask over my face, I study it. Its classical form is a major improvement over the French courtesan objects in the other room. There’s only one thing weird about it: the boy has no penis. And I know those dirty Greek sculptors liked the peens.

“Nice piece,” I say to Naoko. She studies it for a moment, and nods her head slightly.

“A gift for the mistress,” she says. “The boy is a little young, but you can never be too old to appreciate beauty. Will we see you next week, Miss Prescott?” Naoko looks at me expectantly.

I freeze.

You can never be too old to appreciate beauty.

It’s one of my mother’s favorite expressions.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“Oh, A-
man
-da,” my sister calls out in sing-song, like my mother likes to do.

She stands in the middle of our kitchen, holding a nine-by-twelve inch envelope in her hands, bouncing and waving it around to tempt me. “It’s from Lexington College. I think it’s your big fat rejection package.”

I snatch the envelope from her hands and shoot her an evil glare. “Go stab yourself in the eye.”

“Nice,” she says. “Civilized.”

I take the envelope over to the kitchen island and begin ripping it open. Anne hovers next to me. It has been three days since giving the Angstroms my conditions. I haven’t heard from them since.

“Should I get Mom?” Anne asks.

I pull out a typed letter. “No,” I reply. “She’ll get all excited and want to throw a party or something.”

I begin to read.

Dear Amanda,

We are pleased to offer you a place in Lexington College’s freshman class this fall. Our incoming class of freshman is one of the most talented and brightest classes we’ve admitted, and we’re thrilled to be able to extend admission to you.

Enclosed are forms you and/or your parents will need to fill out should you choose Lexington this fall, all of which are due by June 1. Should you require financial aid, I have attached a financial aid screening form for your convenience.

The college years are some of the most exciting and deeply rewarding years in a young person’s life. We hope that getting in to Lexington College gives you great pleasure.

Sincerely,

Valerie Gowan

Head of Admissions

Lexington College

“I guess it’s a yes?” Anne says.

“It’s a yes,” I say, folding the letter and sliding it back into the envelope with the other forms.

Anne snorts. “Getting in was the easy part. Now you’ve got to worry about staying in. Good luck with
your
track record.”

I smile, a secret smile. “Don’t worry, honey. I’ve got that totally under control.”

T O
 
B E
 
C O N T I N U E D . . .

DEDICATION

Another one for KMS.

It has been fun repaying my debt to you.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Thank you to:

—Linda for your initial reading and suggestions, as well as your encouragement.

—Sarah Barbour at Aeroplane Media (
http://aeroplanemedia.wordpress.com/
) for your careful proofreading.

—James at Humblenations (
http://humblenations.com
) for another fabulous cover.

—My family for putting up with me when I’m writing and “in the zone.”

—Fleshbot (
http://fleshbot.com
), which provided inspiration when my imagination failed me.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

ISABELLA JONES
is the
nom de plume
of an author and journalist who lives in New England. You can learn more about her erotic novels and short stories at
www.isabellajonesauthor.blogspot.com
.

Coming Summer 2013

Staying In

The second novel in the Amanda Trilogy

Getting in to college was the easy part …