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"We know the piece in the Express was bad, Stan," I say I’ beside him at the vast, shiny conference table, which I can feel shaking because of the force of his jiggling "But you knohat’s worse?"

"Don’t say that a girl died in your building yesterday"

Dr Jessup’s got a fake smile plastered across his tanned face--I can tell he played a lot of golf over the su froton’s assistant lass conference table, er sandwiches

"I a yesterday" I don’t bother to lower ed up to the president’s office just because soot posted online That’s not only worse, it’s a waste of ti to overhear ton His office is as wide as the Fischer Hall penthouse, and on an even higher floor on a building on the south side of Washington Square Park It appears to have been decorated by someone with a fondness for black leather furniture and dark wood paneling Floor-to-ceiling s on two sides look out across SoHo and Fifth Avenue, while full-length portraits of the president and his wife, Eleanor, scon at us from beside a couple of potted pal with e’s expert legal team--is approximately the size of a Gap checkout counter and seeh to make a person want to throw up

which one person, na down the hall in the ladies’ roo out of the corner of his ic, does not financially impact our department in any way That Twitter or Tweet or twat or whatever it was from the Express, does That’s why this is worse Not because these people are bureaucratic nimrods whose thumbs are up their asses" He ston’s assistant, who is laying out a silver coffee and tea service "Those sandwiches look simply lovely, Gloria"

Gloria smiles back "Why, thank you, Stan," she says with a flirtatious wink before walking away

"It was a blog post," I tell Dr Jessup, though I don’t knohy I bother, since his gaze is on Gloria’s departing legs "And how does it financially impact our departnment a secret," Dr Jessup hisses "The fact that he has twenty-four-hour security, and where those security personnel are based, is supposed to be a secret How the hell did the Express find out about it? The president’s going to cut off our funding over this And he’s been very generous with our funding lately Where do you think we got thethis past su to renovate your friend To, Waverly Hall, next Did you know those boys in the frat houses only have one working elevator? And it hasn’t been upgraded since 1995 But I bet I can kiss that al who co, Bill?" Dr Jessup asks chu "Can’t complain Hey, I played Maidstone over the weekend Birdied the sixth hole"

"Did you really, you old bastard?" Dr Jessup asks "Guess they’ve lowered their standards"

Both uilty in spite of the fact that I had nothing to do with leaking the infore student news blog I kno much Tom loves Waverly Hall, and would have appreciated a new elevator

"You know, Prince Rashid himself could have leaked the information," I say to Dr Jessup after Bill walks away "He hasn’t exactly been Mr Subtle I counted over fifty people going into that party he had the night Jasmine died Any one of them could have tattled to the Express"

"But only someone from your staff could have known about the location of the security detail," Dr Jessup says "The guy can’t be stupid enough to have been bragging to his party guests about that"

Dr Jessup has a point Rashid is followed everywhere he goes by two aruards He has to be aware he’s received death threats He may have nicknamed himself after a dry red table wine, but that doesn’t mean he’s stupid

"Oh my God" Lisa returns from the ladies’ room and collapses into the expensive black leather chair beside ? Ooo, are those cucumber? My favorite"

She leans over and picks up a tiny sandwich froton’s assistant has left in front of us, then pops it into her aze meets mine, she asks, "What?" with heronbetter," I say, in a neutral tone

"Oh, I a I think that was just some of the leftover flu virus before Or queasiness frooes so fast Thirty floors is a lot"

"Right," I say, still in the neutral tone

Is this really how it’s going to go? I wonder The girl who can’t have kids is going to have to point out to the girl who doesn’t want thenant?

"Well, hey there, y’all"

Muffy Fowler has strolled over to join us at the conference table She’s wearing a wide smile and a crea creae, a gray-haired man dressed in a somber business suit (who, I happen to know, since he and his wife live in the penthouse of Fischer Hall, feels more comfortable in a sweatsuit, preferably in the school colors of blue and gold)

Behind the president are a nuent Lancaster He’s wearing his seely habitual scowl, dark suit and tie, and earpiece