Free The Coming of Bright by Sadie King

“Faculty Reading Room, Soviet Law.”
    Zora might not have known Lenin from Trotsky, but she was pretty damn sure that not a single faculty member at Founders currently taught or would ever teach Soviet law. Not unless by some catastrophic miracle the Soviet Union reappeared on the world stage.
    Even at the height of the Cold War the room probably was not much of a hotspot of intellectual activity—the prominence of any field at any prestigious law school is inversely related to the likelihood that one would have to receive a paycheck from Uncle Sam by studying it.
    She’d found her prize, the sanctum of the Juris Club. The first step. In what she hoped would be a long process. She was consumed by the desire to have the saga of discovery play out as slowly and sensuously as possible. Of the secrets of the Juris Club, the secrets of her own desire—unlocked by Victor.
    “Tell me, why the curiosity about the head of Voltaire? I don’t get it.”
    Within limits, Zora had always preferred honesty to evasion, and thus far Jack had been frank with her—too frank. But he had gotten her to the head of Voltaire while her coffee was still hot, and she owed him a straight answer.
    “I met the Judge a couple hours ago, at his townhouse. He told me how to find the meeting place of the Juris Club, gave me some clues about Voltaire. Ever heard of it?”
    “The Juris Club, sure, who hasn’t. It’s the Skull and Bones of sharks. Nixon was a member, Ford was too, shit why do you think Ford pardoned him? But what are you doing meeting with the Judge at home?”
    The faintest hint of jealousy permeated his voice.
    “Well, Mr. Prying, I went to talk to him about the Gatekeeper and the clemency plea he wants me to write. Remember that? And I wanted to ask him about the Juris Club, I mentioned that to you in the Cave.”
    “Don’t get too close to Judge Ras, Zora. You don’t know what he’s capable of.”
    This time it was Zora who smirked, more like muffled laughter with a scowl.
    “What he’s capable of? Are you nuts? One of most highly respected jurists in the country, if not the world? And he’s showing an interest in my studies and my career. You should be happy for me, not throwing insinuations around. What gives you the right?”
    Jack was taken aback by her defensiveness. He sensed if he pushed too far, their growing rapport would wither in the bud. He still couldn’t resist one Parthian shot before steering away from the subject. He cared about Zora. Compassion more than passion.
    “Fair enough. But he loves to play mind games, makes Socrates look like an amateur. And believe me, unlike Socrates, he wouldn’t be the one committing suicide. There’s a rumor that a student a couple years ago, a young woman, a 1L like you, committed suicide because of him.”
    Zora had had enough.
    “Jack, I’m seriously not listening to any more of your shit. Victor is a good man.”
    Aware that she had called him Victor, she flushed brilliantly, radiantly. The shame only fueled her anger, and her anger masked her shame. She caved to her urge to flee from Jack, from the situation, turning furiously on her heels and walking toward the nearest staircase to the first floor, out the main entrance.
    Jack followed behind her, chastened into silence, she shamed into it. Once they were out on the path in front of Welch, she stopped, turned to him, curtly:
    “Good night Jack. See you in class.”
    “I’m sorry Zora. I really am. I’m just looking out for you. Law school can be a vicious place. A tragic place.”
    He reached out to her as she turned to walk away. His hand brushed the exact spot on her neck where Victor had first touched her. For a split second her eyes closed, her lungs suspended their movement and she hesitated, her feelings in complete disarray. Then her eyes opened, clear as night and she hurried away, leaving Jack fixed in place. Staring at her body receding rapidly in the lamp-lit black.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    Next class,