Just The Tip - Cassandra Dee
1
Jenna
Six months earlier.
“Seriously Tina, you must be kidding,” I said nonchalantly, flipping my blonde hair back. “I’ve never heard of this requirement.”
My sister gazed at me owl-like. Her heavy-framed glasses were ridiculous because they only served to emphasize the roundness of her cheeks, obscuring her rather pretty caramel eyes.
“No, it’s true Jenna,” she said wearily. “In addition to the bar exam, there’s an additional requirement to get your license. It’s called the moral character application. I guess the State wants to make sure you’re an upstanding citizen, that kind of thing.”
What? I’d been slaving away for almost three years at this law degree and it wasn’t enough? There was more to becoming an attorney?
“Not only that, but the application costs something like four hundred dollars,” added Tina resignedly.
“Four hundred dollars!” I screeched. “There’s no way I can afford that! For a piece of paper that says I’m a good person? Hell no, bitches.”
Tina looked away and didn’t reply. I knew from her silence that we didn’t have a choice – she didn’t make the rules any more than I did and likely wasn’t looking forward to the four hundred dollar spend either.
But at least Tina could afford it, as she was engaged to Jake Manning now. I grew livid thinking about it because Jake had been my fiancé first. The CEO of Manning Pharmaceuticals and I had met at a party and I’d succeeded in snaring the most eligible bachelor in San Francisco with my flirtatious ways, hot body, and unstoppable charm.
But instead of marching into a happily ever after, my twin had snuck in, getting pregnant with Jake’s baby and basically stealing him from right under my nose. Now they were engaged to be married and instead of me as the next first lady of San Francisco, it was going to be Tina instead, my fraternal twin, a dumpy brunette who was actually serious about her career.
Because my twin and I are law students at the same school in the Bay Area. My sister’s a good student and deserved getting in, I’m sure. But don’t tell anyone because I have a big secret: I didn’t earn my admission at all. Instead, I used my feminine wiles to seduce a professor who revised my transcript in the university’s database.
It’d begun somewhat normally. I was a senior in Professor Lang’s economics class, almost dizzy with boredom as he wrote equations on the blackboard. It was amazing that I was in class at all, to be honest. Usually I just skip lectures and show up to exams on the appointed date.
But this professor had caught my eye. He was cute and not too old, maybe 35 or so, fresh from a post-doc and furiously trying to publish before his tenure evaluation came up. Prematurely grey, he was dressed like an academic in corduroy jeans with a v-neck cashmere sweater – trendy but not too much so, with a nice body, trim and toned, probably from biking all over campus. He was clearly smart too, holding a PhD from some Ivy League school back east.
His voice droned on and on but it was a nice hum and something that I could plausibly feign interest in, even as my mind wandered thinking about this guy or that at school. When you look like me there are men galore only too happy to do your homework for you. Hell, they’ll even do your take-home exams if you’re savvy. But I needed an overhaul of my entire transcript and Professor Lang was just the answer. I knew instructors could access the University database and I wasn’t above trying my hand.
After class, I trailed the handsome instructor into the hallway after the other students had dispersed.
“Hi Professor Lang,” I said sweetly, throwing my blonde hair over my shoulder.
“Hey,” he said glancing my way. “Hey,” he said more forcefully, doing a double take. That happens to me a lot. As a nubile undergrad, I was bursting with health and beauty and guys often look at me with renewed interest once they get a glimpse of my curves.
“I was wondering if I could stop by later today for some review?” I asked with a flirtatious smile. “The stuff you explained today … the concepts were tough,” I added.
“Well,” the good professor hemmed and hawed, “office hours are usually Thursday and it’s only Tuesday today.”
“Please?” I asked plaintively. “If I wait until Thursday there will be more material and I’ll just be more confused. Plus, the TA doesn’t have office hours