“Get the trash bags your housekeeper says he found outside the kid’s room,” Eva says. “The ones with the cups. And any bags you can find containing vomit from the other victims who allegedly had the flu would be superhelpful.”
I wrinkle my nose. “I’ll see what I can do, but that was yesterday’s trash. It went out already. Our trash pickup days are Thursdays and—”
“Holy Christ,” Eva says. “We’ll just have to run a tox screen for everything under the goddamn sun and it’s going to take a month. Meanwhile, her parents will be screaming at us, wanting to know why it’s taking so long, because on TV the M.E.s get their tox screens back from the lab in three hours.”
“If it’s any consolation,” I say, lowering my voice while glancing over at Lisa, who’s still fiddling with her bra straps as she speaks with whomever she’s got on the phone, “my boss really did have the flu. It was the twenty-four-hour kind and she’s better now, but still kind of sore, especially her boobs. Moody too.”
There’s a beat before Eva says, “Your boss is the one who just got married, right?”
“Uh,” I say. “Right.”
“Yeah. There’s no such thing as a twenty-four-hour stomach flu that leaves your boobs sore. Breast tenderness, moodiness, nausea, and vomiting are all early signs of pregnancy. Tell your boss to take an e.p.t. And call me back if you find out anything else about Jasmine.”
I hear a click, and then the line goes dead.
I stare at the receiver in stunned silence for a moment. Lisa? Pregnant? But that’s impossible. Lisa doesn’t want kids. It’s one of the first things she ever told me. She and her husband, Cory, both come from huge families and have tons of nieces and nephews. They’re sick of kids. Tricky, their dog, is enough.
“Well, that’s done.” Lisa, in her office, hangs up the phone. “I’ve left a message with Dr. Jessup that I’m putting all my RAs on probation.”
“Wait.” Sarah rises from her desk chair and goes to stand in front of the door to Lisa’s office. “You were serious about that?”
“Not all of them,” Lisa corrects herself. “Only the ones who were drinking while in the presence of residents under the age of twenty-one. One more strike and they’re out.”
“Lisa,” Sarah says, astonished. “You can’t do that. The entire staff?”
“It’s my building,” Lisa says. “I can do whatever I want.”
Maybe Eva’s right. Maybe Lisa is pregnant, and doesn’t know it. But how is that possible? She’d have to know, right? How could someone not know she’s pregnant?
“No,” Sarah says. “You can’t. If they screw up, how are we going to replace them? We’re going to have to train—wait, how many are there?”
“Nine,” Lisa says. “Ten including Jasmine Albright.”
“Ten RAs?” Sarah shakes her head, her frizzy ponytail flying. “How are we going to replace and train ten people?”
“Don’t be so negative,” I say. “Maybe they won’t violate their probation.”
Sarah looks at me like I’m crazy. “Have you met any of them?”
Lisa shrugs. “It’s going to be a challenge. But it will be better than having lying sneaks who are under a prince’s thumb working on our staff.”
There’s an entire TV series called I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant about women who didn’t know they were pregnant and then suddenly gave birth while in the grocery store or on a camping trip. It’s one of my favorite shows. I love to watch it late at night after Cooper’s fallen asleep so he won’t know I watch such dumb TV programs.
But how could my own boss not know she’s pregnant? She has a master’s degree. It’s impossible.
“Listen, I completely agree that what those guys did was terrible, but I think you should only give them a warning,” Sarah says. “I don’t think we should be rocking the boat too hard around here. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you guys. Not only is a girl dead, but this morning, on New York College Express—”
“It’s my building,” Lisa says, folding her arms over her chest, but careful—I note—to avoid touching the nipple area. “I think I should be able to discipline my staff the way I see fit. And if I feel that I need an entirely new RA staff—or mostly new RA staff—for the good of the hall, then you need to support me, Sarah.”
“I do,” Sarah says. “You know I do. But I’m pretty sure you’re going to want to show staff solidarity, especially after you read this.”
She darts back to her desk, retrieves her laptop, then opens it up and hands it to Lisa. I get up to scan it over her shoulder. As I do, my heart sinks.
Living the Suite Life, the blog post’s title reads. Rascally Rashid Has Two Double Rooms to Himself in Fischer Hall.
Uh-oh.
14
Living the Suite Life:
Rascally Rashid Has Two Double Rooms to Himself in Fischer Hall
Did you apply to live in Fischer Hall, the hottest dorm on campus (where the upcoming new reality show Jordan Loves Tania was filmed), but get assigned to that pit of suck, Wasser Hall, instead?
Well, maybe if Crown Prince Rashid of Qalif hadn’t been assigned to four spaces in Fischer Hall instead of one, there might have been some left over for you. But we’re guessing your dad didn’t donate an estimated $500 million to the college the way the prince’s did.
Word has it that Rascally Rashid is living it up royal–blue blood style in room 1512, a suite that would normally house four students, but this year has been reassigned as a single fit for a king, complete with a private Jacuzzi tub, wet bar, water bed, and home theater.
Our Fischer Hall insider says the prince is generous about sharing, though, entertaining regularly in his room(s). Those interested in a royal audience need only contact the Fischer Hall director’s office, where someone will be happy to put them in touch with Rashid’s not-so-secret security detail, located in a conference room down the hall.
New York College Express,
your daily student news blog
This is bad.” The director of housing, Dr. Jessup, is sitting on an expensive leather chair in President Allington’s office, jiggling his right leg. “This is very, very bad.”