Chapter Thirteen
JOURNAL ENTRY - BEN Burns. They say college is the best time in your life. Perhaps they’re right. The people I meet here in the next few years will either stay with me for the rest of my days, or at least stay in my memories. It’s hard to believe any of these people will mean more to me than my high school buddies, but I guess that’ll be proven with time.
Speaking of interesting people, these Student Government types are much more interesting than I expected. They actually engulf their passions into this stuff. During an interview today, I overheard several of them talk angrily about their opponents, the ones that use a leadership honorary to dominate campus politics. It’s this shared disgust for that elite that seems to bind all these folks together, even though they are a varied bunch. Only time will tell, though, if these people, in the pursuit of power and prestige, turn on each other…
PAUL ADAMS HEARD a beep from his computer and closed the book before finishing that beginning chapter. As he took his feet off the corner of his desk, he could not help but think critically about his brother’s successful book. Now I remember why I politely bought the book, but never read it. Too many self-absorbed elitists; and my brother is no better for befriending them. He turned to the monitor and accepted the results of the latest computer test….
BEN BURNS AND Anthony Capolli were good friends. In many ways, they made a good political team. Ben was the idealist; Anthony was the deal-maker. In one little-known incident, they almost conspired to put Ben up as a candidate for student body president. Their idea was that of a decoy. Ben’s plain ambition would be fused with his claims for a “vision” of governing to create mischief as a third force in the election. Once a runoff was made necessary, the duo would become kingmakers.
Their plan was not to be. It didn’t fit well with the strategies the opposing sides put forward and Ben had yet to make his mark with a strong electoral win for Student Senate. So, the idea was shelved and never seriously revisited. Yet, the fact it happened showed that when he was compelled, Ben would consult with his friends on a daring strategy to resolve perceived conflicts…
THEY WERE IN a non-descript diner in the middle of nowhere. The guy at the booth, pulled the sunglasses from his flannel pocket. Before hiding his hazel eyes, he asked his female companion one last time. “Are we clear on this?”
The African American let loose a chuckle that revealed her raspy voice. “Of course. It’s pretty simple, if you ask me. Let’s just hope it works.”
“And don’t forget. Our best guess is that this person is enflamed by what’s in this,” the guy said as he patted a paperback novel that rested on the table. “Use it as a guide, but trust your own memories of Florida’s past as the truth that will solve this mystery,” he pointed out.
“I will. And give my regards to that old building when you get there,” she said.
“Don’t forget, Bennita. That building is graced by your permanent presence there.”
“But don’t remind me of that fact!”
He gave a wryly smile as he got up to leave the diner. “Oh, and Mike?” He turned to face his life-long friend. She insisted in a way that reflected honest concern to “Be careful.” He and pushed open the glass doors.
ADAM RUPPESBERGER WAS not often a patient man. The situation in Gainesville had gotten out of hand since Mike Adams had made his discreet exit about a week ago. The press gaggle had turned into an angry swarm, as what once was a quaint effort at a political film has turned into a national investigation. Fans turned from appreciative to inquisitive, blaming Adam for Mike’s disappearance. FBI-assigned bodyguards shrouded a once-brilliantly-open set on campus with a bit of a mystery, full of secrets not unlike the Student Union the film is set in. And the unplanned hiatus of production did not help matters for the actors and crew with projects lined up after this one.
So, the easy-going former fraternity brother was beginning to lose his patience with those around him. That is why he finally relented and chose to give this speech, to quiet the whiny crowds. Yet, allowing the Student Government to host his event forced Adam to revisit a part of his life that he had out-grown a long time ago. Indeed, of Mike’s circle of friends in campus politics, Adam was one of the first to admit his feelings and make a hasty exit out of politics. He did not know it, but Adam’s decision played a role in Mike’s eventual departure as well.
They even moved the usual meeting place for the Student Government to accommodate an expectedly large guest audience. It was an auditorium with a raised, semi-circular stage, and seating that was remarkably level all the way to the back end. Unfortunately, the acoustics of the room made even normal speaking echo in a way that simultaneous conversations easily turned cacophonous. As the SG members filed through the front to pick up papers, a loud and obnoxious audience from the press and local community had filled the back of the auditorium. Several faces were notable to Adam, including a hunky college guy with brown hair and blonde highlights; a very fat Asian couple; and a middle-aged guy with black curls, covered up by a baseball cap, and a plaid shirt.
The student presiding officer asked for silence as he gaveled the meeting into order. “Please calm down, especially those members of the press here today,” he said with a confident delivery uncommon for a college student. A couple flashes of light showed that photographs were being taken of this event.
The student leader continued virtually without pause. “For the convenience of all of us concerned, I am allowing our guest speaker tonight to jump to the front of the agenda. Many of you know him. He was an alumnus at this University, and even a successful veteran of this organization. After graduating, he left the state and found his true love – film. He is currently working on a joint production with a fellow Gator alumnus. Perhaps you have heard of it? It’s an adaptation of the best-seller “A True Gator Party.” Please welcome to the podium Mr. Adam Ruppesberger!”
The student leader let his hands drift from the gavel long enough to join in the applauding. Adam walked up the short steps to the stage, and stood at a podium to the left of the table set up for the presiding officer. He gestured with both hands, hoping to calm down the fans and to slow down the flash photography. “Thank you, please…” he said.
“I’m not here to make a long soliloquy. Nor am I here to have a press conference on Student Government’s time. I am here tonight to address some of the rumors, questions, and concerns that have developed in the last week,” he said in a way that hushed the crowd.
“My current project with Mike Adams will continue. We have a movie, a great story really, to tell to the world, and we won’t let any punk prankster stop us,” he said to cheers and applauds from the student section of the audience. “I think it is a damn shame that anyone would go so low as to threaten some young actors for working on a project that one disagrees with. I also think it’s disgraceful for that same perpetrator to follow Mike to his sister’s house and attack him there.”
“When did we become a country that crushes dissent with violent opposition, rather than the power of ideas? If you dislike our movie, provide your alternative point of view. Being able to do that is what made this country great three centuries ago, and keeps us going on today. All this person has done is to attract the attention of the federal investigators, and it is only a matter of time before he is brought to justice!” Adam said as calmly as possible.
The speech went on for a few minutes longer, and touched on other matters of little consequence in the grand scheme of things. After he concluded, the presiding officer declared a recess, and many – particularly the press - followed Adam into the hallway and lobby area just outside of the auditorium. Maybe this will get us some positive publicity, after all, Adam thought.
The crowd that surrounded him was mostly students seeking autographs on everything from scripts of his previous works to paperbacks of the Adams novel to even t-shirts. The press didn’t feel hampered by the youthful appetite for celebrity sightings.
One of the
local reporters, Timothy Cunningham, fired off the first question of the very short Q&A session. “Why did you do this speech? And as a follow-up, what made you choose this venue?” Adam continued to sign things as this conversation began.
“Well, Tim,” – Adam was on a first-name basis with this guy by now – “I just got fed up with the persistent rumors and the, uh, the sense of doom, okay, that clouded this project since Mike travelled to Portland. As for the venue, I didn’t want to, you know, give up an opportunity to visit a familiar part of my college days, while giving a speech that was about those years.”
Another reporter began his line of questioning when the guy in the baseball cap broke through the circle to hand Adam a sheet of paper. The guy told him, in a gruff voice, to read it. The paper was a print-out from Mike’s movie script – a scene involving the Ben Burns character that wasn’t even printed yet for the cast and crew. It also included a blue scribble that read: “Fame and shame are as one in this hall. Meet me there in twenty minutes.”
Adam glanced up in the direction that the guy went, but he was already gone. Adams quickly became convinced that, in all likelihood, Mike Adams had been in an auditorium full of reporters, fans, and FBI guys, and had not been noticed or given an ounce of attention as he left. If only we were all that lucky, Adam thought with amazement as he ignored the other reporters and made an effort to leave the building.
THE HALL OF Fame used to be a hallway of fame. Once located on one side of the infamous Third Floor of the Student Union, row after row of pictures were hung in recognition of past student body presidents and other recipients of the prestigious honor of being in the Hall of Fame. Fairly recently, in response to the growing demand and growing population of pictures, the UF Historical Society sponsored a fund-raising drive to create a literal Hall of Fame – a single-room, free-standing building devoted to the memories of those alumni who graced the room with their pictorial presence every day. Occasionally, the curators of the space would showcase a particular individual; this month’s spotlight was, as expected, Michael Adams – whose fame during in school was for his encyclopedic knowledge of SG policy, which is now eclipsed by his ability to spoof his experiences.
Some students and alumni jokingly call this the room where fame and shame meet because many that got into the Hall of Fame got in through less-than-stellar methods. For example, there is at least one former student body president, depicted in Mike’s novel, who gained several advanced degrees as she waited everyone else out to gain the top spot in campus politics – rather than getting a jump start on her career.
When Adam got there that night, the moon-lit reflections off the nearby lake were making a great visual from within, given that most of the walls were actually large windows with views of the Lake. He easily spotted his reason for being there – Mike was leaning against the rail looking into the second-floor display room where the Hall spotlights various alumni.
“What’s up, Mike?” he asked, peering around the door as he walked up the stairs and stepped into the display room.
“I was that obvious?” Mike said, trying to sound aloof.
“Not at all! I only guessed it might be you because of the paper you used to deliver the note. Your disguise worked well, but how did you return to Gainesville undetected by the authorities – who are still looking for you, by the way?”
“I must not have told you my little brother is a computer programmer. He gave me the opportunity to shift identities momentarily.”
“How long does this work?”
Mike turned to face his old friend. “Well, the fake identity will probably expire when the feds conduct their weekly network sweep, which my brother said happens in a few days. The costume, however, can work as long as I can stand it,” he said with a smile.
“And what brings you here, other than to see me speak?”
“Heh. I’m here to take my life back.”
“You’re going to confront this guy?”
“Yeah, as soon as we can identify who he is.”
“We?”
“Adam, this might come as a shock to you, but even a former congressman cannot do everything on his own. I’ve thoroughly pissed off a Gator alumni to the point that he or she chased Bennita down and blew up her car.”
“He did what?”
“It’s true. I was talking with her when it happened. The line must be drawn here. Not any further. But if I am going to draw him out into the open, I’ll need your help. Especially since you are an expert in tiny cameras…”
BENNITA JONES WAS being as polite as she could with Aimee Jackson. Aimee was a bottle-blond Jewish woman who was quite at home being a district attorney in southern Florida. She was near her home, the weather was nice, and she was making a difference. She’s even had a chance to dabble in politics, although she fell short in a bid for the state Senate three years ago. The last thing she wanted to hear was that a guy in her past wanted to know if she held a grudge.
“Oh, please. I liked Mike. I honestly felt he did what he had to do, and I respect him for it. I don’t think the novel was too inaccurate. I mean, I did earn several advanced degrees while studying at UF….”
BEING BACK ON the third floor of the Student Union gave Mike’s stomach butterflies. Not because he thought he’d be spotted – his disguise was still working better than he could hope for – but because too many bittersweet memories were had on this infamous floor.
This all changed when he saw the Student Senate office. It was well-lit by the mid-morning sunshine, and was humming with active computer use. Sitting behind the front desk was a sight for sore eyes – Brenda Freddies.
Brenda is the secretary of the Student Senate, a job she has held for more than twenty years – and you could tell. Every wrinkle, each gray hair had a story to tell of misdeeds, silliness, and corruption among the students that came and went through that office. They confided in her – for as many secrets as she let slip through her lips, there were many more that she kept hidden.
Her longevity and the willingness of student leaders to tell their secrets to her made what she knew indispensable to the task at hand. It also didn’t hurt that she arrived before just about anyone else to the third floor and thus Mike could escape too much attention by making his visit then.
It took her a second, but she saw right through his disguise. “What can I do for you, Mike?”
“Actually, Brenda, I’m here for a favor.”
“Okay,” she said with a laugh that revealed her toothy grin.
“You’re not going to like it.”
“So? What else is new?”
“I need to find out who holds a grudge against me.”
“You think I can help you identify this stalker of yours? It’s entirely possible, although you are crazy if you think my memory will be the only thing you need to search.”
“Why is that?”
She took a deep breath. “The answers you seek will be found there,” she pointed toward the offices of the infamous leadership honorary that dictates, behind closed doors, much of what goes on in Student Government.
“How can you be certain?” Mike asked earnestly.
“You can’t just dig into your novel for the source of that threat that has emerged. You have to dig into this University’s past, for all its shady dealings, corrupt practices, and worthwhile endeavors. Once you truly understand your history here you will understand what the present has in store for you.”
He shook his head. “I was afraid you were going to say something cryptic.”