The Setup Read Free

the matter out and had managed to get a third party to read the essay. Emily’s grade had been upped from a C to an A-minus.
    That had been good. This, she was worried, might not turn out so well.
    She cleared her throat and repeated what she’d told him. “I said Uncle Blake found you a date for when you fly down to Tulane for the frat reunion.”
    Jefferson ignored the cordless receiver she was holding out to him. “First, I’m not flying down to Tulane for the reunion. We’ve already been through that,” he reminded her. “And second, even if I wasgoing down for the reunion—which I am not—I don’t need anyone to find me a date—”
    “Well, you certainly aren’t finding any yourself, are you, Jeffy?” The voice over the speakerphone interrupted.
    Jefferson frowned, looking at the offending phone. Blake was the only one who had ever called him anything but his full name. Normally, he tolerated it, perhaps even liked it, because it reminded him of a happier time when his life with Donna was still very much ahead of him instead of part of the past.
    But right now, being addressed as “Jeffy” irritated the hell out of him. “That’s because I’m not looking, Blakey, ” he shot back.
    Emily decided that if they tag-teamed, she and Uncle Blake might be able to outmaneuver her father and wear him down until he surrendered. “Uncle Blake says that he’s got tickets for the two of you—you and your date—to attend a performance art event.” She tried to look confident, but inside she felt as if all her bones were crossing imaginary fingers.
    “Performance art,” Jefferson repeated as if it left a sour taste in his mouth. “Just what the hell is performance art?”
    Emily waited a beat for her godfather to say something. When no sound emerged from the telephone, she quickly jumped in. “It’s when—”
    Jefferson waved his hand. Whatever it was, it sounded flaky and he had no patience with anythingflaky. He was a rock-solid, button-down corporate lawyer who considered eating a steak with hot sauce daring. “Never mind. I don’t need to know because I’m not going.”
    “Sylvie will be disappointed,” Blake’s loud, disembodied voice told him, purposely sounding mournful.
    Jefferson frowned at the telephone. “I’m sure she’ll get over it, whoever Sylvie is.”
    “Sylvie Marchand,” Emily volunteered. Blake had given her a complete rundown before they’d joined forces to break the news to her father. She liked the woman already. She only prayed that when the time came, Sylvie Marchand would forgive her for fibbing on the application form. But that had been out of necessity. On paper, her father sounded deadly dull. Emily had a feeling no one would have been willing to go out with him. And he deserved the very best.
    Which was what he was going to get if she had anything to say about it.
    “She’s your date, Dad.”
    He looked at his daughter and knew she meant well. But this was not something he was prepared to do for her. He wanted his life to remain uncomplicated, the way it had up until now. “She is not my date. I don’t want a date.”
    Emily pressed her lips together and looked at him. A thought she’d never entertained before suddenly occurred to her and her eyes widened as it sank in.
    “Dad, are you—you know…” Her voice trailed off as she found herself momentarily at a loss. But this was her father and she loved him. If she was going to do right by him, she needed all the facts. There was nothing to be gained by backing off. She just might need to revamp her plans. Taking a breath, she shot the question out. “Dad, do you like men?”
    He looked at the receiver his daughter was holding and thought of the man on the other end. “Right now, only to go ten rounds with. And no, I am not ‘you know,’” he informed her.
    She offered him a sunny smile. The one he could so seldom resist. “Then why not go? Dad, this is a chance of a lifetime. You’ll be sorry if you