Kelvin paced in what little space there was to pace. “I could conceivably fail this class! Everyone could! That would ruin everything for us. Grad school, GPA, jobs.” He sat on Rafe’s bed and covered his trembling lips. “My parents would never talk to me again. They’ll disown me. And you probably think I’m being dramatic, but I’m not. My brother got a 500 on his MCATs, and they didn’t speak to him for six months. If I have go home this summer and tell them that I failed this class…”
“Calm down,” Coop said. Kelvin’s voice was a set of silverware crashing to the floor. “It’s just one test.”
“It’s two tests now. I’ve already dropped the first C, so this grade counts.”
“Did you study?”
Kelvin shot him a look that told Coop if he ever questioned his studiousness again, he would get something cut off.
“All over this one class?” Coop collapsed onto his bed.
“It’s a requirement for the degree. We need to get at least a B to continue on in the program. Usually, students’ grades all wind up in the same cluster, so it’s easy to curve. But Matty’s screwing that up. I don’t know if the professor will seriously consider failing most of us, but it’s possible. We need that curve. How could you let this happen?”
Coop wasn’t going to have anyone insult his abilities. “I tried to distract him. I even ruined his textbook.” Coop cringed at the memory. That wasn’t what gigolos, G-rated or otherwise, were meant to do. “The kid is like a machine.”
“Every machine is capable of having a glitch. There is always a flaw in the code. You just need to find it.”
Coop thought about Matty, what made him tick. That was how Coop was so good at his job. He could read people and read the room. He could size somebody up fast and calibrate himself accordingly. It was all about picking the right mask to use.
“Maybe you should be asking Matty’s friends this question. They’d know better than me.”
“Matty doesn’t have any friends.” Kelvin’s sniveling smile reappeared as Coop watched an idea formulate in his mind. “Matty doesn’t have any friends.”
He looked at Coop and kept on smiling.
“What?” Coop stood up from the bed. “No.”
“It’s like my dad says: ‘You catch more flies with honey than you do with vinegar.’”
“You want me to pretend to be his friend? That’s twisted.”
“That’s more like what you do for your job, right?”
It was funny to hear someone call what Coop did a job, like it was on the same level as project manager or grocery clerk.
“You’ll barely have to do anything. Just be nice to him. Sit with him at lunch. Hang out with him. Matty won’t know what to do with himself. It’s perfect!”
“I don’t think Matty would let a friend come between him and his work.” Not to mention that it felt like the ultimate mindfuck.
“Maybe this’ll be a good thing for him. It’ll show him the benefits of not being a total asshole to his classmates and future colleagues. This will help him prepare for life in the real world.”
As if Kelvin ever gave a second thought to Matty’s wellbeing.
“You’re serious about this? Matty is a person.”
Kelvin nodded like he understood the basic concept. “Biologically, yes. Mentally, I’m not sure.”
Coop shot him a dirty look.
“Look, I’m not saying you have to get him to tell you his darkest secrets and put you as his emergency contact. All we need is for Matty to get one less-than-perfect grade on a test. Just one. Then he’ll see how the curve saves him, and he’ll be on board. You just have to hang out with him for a week or two. It won’t take much.”
“And then ditch him?”
“Friends come and go here all the time. Weren’t there kids in your dorm you spent time with during orientation who you’ve never spoken to again?”
Kelvin and his insufferable points. Coop looked out the window. He was a G-rated gigolo to help people, but Kelvin was the wrong type of person he wanted to help. But maybe he did have a point. A little fake friendship never hurt anyone. Coop could be the chill pill that Matty so desperately needed.Oh, the powers of rationalization.
“I’ll make it worth your while.” Kelvin took a wad of bills out of his pocket and plopped it on the bed.
