Chapter 8

Mark's next three weeks were uneventful, at least to his way of thinking. He had interviewed three more cheerleader candidates, had sex with two of them and rejected the third before he even finished his list of questions. He felt sorry for her and was angry inside because he suspected that some of her classmates "friends" had convinced her that she was a sure thing. If that had really happened, it was a very cruel thing to do to her. Mark really wanted to go to her school and complain to the officials but since he had no proof whatsoever, he had to let it pass. This poor girl had grades so low that it was doubtful that any college would admit her. Her physical agility was almost non-existent and her communication skills were also very weak. She said that her friends had encouraged her because she was a "shoo in", but she wasn't sure what that meant. Without a doubt, she was the homeliest girl that Mark had ever seen.

When he arrived home that evening, he found a letter in the post showing that it had come from Sandy Mason's area. The letter inside, handwritten on stationery matching the envelope, was from Sandy.

Dear Mark,

Please accept my apology for my inappropriate behavior during you last visit. Questioning you as I did was so very wrong, I know. I had no right to do that. I was being a little girl with a dream that I really was different in your eyes and I thought maybe, by some miracle, you would say yes, and save yourself for me. You are the first and only man that I have met since I moved here that I could respect, and whom I really believed respected me.

I am truly sorry that I have messed this up so thoroughly

Please forgive me,

Sandy

Being truthful, he had not recently given much thought to the incident, nor to the existence of a girl that had, up until that day, been a large part of his every thought. Reading her letter just now made him recall their conversation, and how he had become upset with her persistent questioning. He laid the letter and envelope on the entry table, moved into the kitchen to grab a beer and settled into the sofa in the den to watch television and listen to his phone messages. The machine said that he had seven messages. The first two were mothers seeking information about his guidance services. The third was from Claire Saunders wanting to set up another "meeting" to discuss the progress of her daughter's application. She suggested the time and place and asked that he confirm his availability for such a meeting by calling her cell number and leaving a message. The very next message was from her daughter, Holly, saying that she was available for a further interview at his convenience. His contract photographer was the next to leave a message, asking about the schedule for the next shoot. A call from one of his college friends about a golfing event on the upcoming weekend prompted an immediate return call. They agreed on a time and place to meet, and for the first time in weeks, Mark was actually looking forward to the weekend. It was as he listened to the final message that he sat upright on the sofa, shut off the television and hit replay on the answering machine.

"Mark, this is Jennifer Mason, Sandra's grandmother. I don't know what has happened to her, something at school I presume, but whatever it is, she won't tell me. I told her to call you but she's afraid that you are mad at her, so she won't do that either. Would you please call her? Please, if only for me."

Mark thought about the letter she had written, and tried to imagine what other issues may be involved in Jennifer's voicemail message. Did he really want to get involved in something else with this girl? He got another beer for himself and then picked up her letter to reread it. Did he really have time for this nonsense? He turned the television back on and tried to get interested in an already lopsided Atlanta Braves game. "To hell with it," he said aloud.

"Hello Sandy, it's Mark. I received your letter today. Thank you. I am not angry with you. I understand what you are saying." He sensed that she was crying.

"Oh Mark, I am so sorry. I really screwed up everything. My life is just the pits."

"No you didn't, and what do you mean? What else is going on?"

"You remember when I told you about my ex boyfriend, the guy whose arm I broke?"

"Yes, what about him?"

"I found out that he told all the other boys in my class not to ask me on dates or to the prom."

"Have you talked to anybody at school about this, like the Principal?"

"No, because he won't do anything. He knows that I broke Bill's arm, and that messed up the basketball team big time, so I'm not too well liked by some people at school. I wouldn't care except it's my last prom. I was too young last year, and I graduate in June."

"What can I do? Do you want me to talk to this kid?"

"It's wouldn't do any good. The other boys are too scared. They know he would beat them up if they did ask me."

They were both quiet for a moment, but Sandy knew he was still there because of the background noise. Finally he asked her, "Sandy, could I take you to the prom?"

"Would you do that? You'd take me to the prom? You would really be my date?"

"Yes, Sandy, I will be honored to escort you to your prom." When the call ended, Mark got another beer and asked himself what he had just gotten into but no one answered.

Tee off was scheduled for nine o'clock and Mark had to hurry just to get into the parking lot. His friend Paul was waiting anxiously as he pulled in. "Grab you clubs and let's go, slowpoke. We tee off in three minutes."

"Sorry about that, Paul. I had a late night and early morning that didn't seem to want to ever end."

"Oh, complain to me. I will be sympathetic! You get more than any three guys combined. I wish I had half of your connections."

Paul had been Mark's roommate in his last year of college and they had remained in contact with one another. Like Mark, Paul was a very handsome young man. He had entered the world of finance after graduating, and had been very successful in that career.

"I should feel sorry for you, now?" Paul asked sarcastically. "Every time I see you, you are with a different woman, and she is always the most beautiful woman in the room. No sympathy here, pal!"

It was their standard banter; two very eligible bachelors living the good life. Towards the middle of their golf round, Mark became serious. "Paul, I need your thoughts about something, again." Mark had consulted Paul when he had become disillusioned with the law firm and the notoriety that it brought.

"Okay. Climb to the top of the mountain. The Guru is in."

"Well, you know that I meet all kinds of young girls, all high school girls, that have aspirations of becoming a cheerleader when they go to college. I meet with them, put a whole series of questions to them about their lives, their schooling, their boyfriends, their attitudes toward sex -- the whole gamut."

"Alright, yes I know. So what?"

"Some of the girls that I meet, after our interview, I conclude that they are not cheerleader material and discourage them from that pursuit. This is all pretty much routine until I interviewed this one girl. When I told her about the active sex life of most cheerleaders today, she did a complete reversal and said she was no longer interested. She has managed to get into my head somehow, the first person to do that since my very first girl friend."