“Not that,” she said, nodding to the screen. Although, Victoria did have to do some mental calculation to remember the last time any man had shared her bed. Thirty-three and now thirty-four were particularly dry years since her break up with Kevin. Not that he did anything mind-blowing when they did share a bed. Lights off, missionary, and quick was Kevin’s style. His brand of lovemaking wasn’t even long enough for her to think of a theme for the next day’s lecture.

“Well we need to fix that,” Paula said, turning the monitor back. “Any prospects?”

“You sound like my mom.”

“Don’t tell me that,” her friend said with a barking laugh. “Your mom is a piece of work and I don’t want to be associated with her.”

Victoria debated whether to tell Paula about the strange email she received from John Donovan. Since Paula signed on for the fall semester, it had been easier to face the stressful culture of Pembroke University. Victoria didn’t have very many people to talk to in the English department even though she’d worked there for four years. But because of the exclusive air of the private institution, a fear of judgement made it difficult to share one’s ideas or problems with equally competitive professors. But this was Paula, her former graduate school buddy and the third member of The Write Bitches Gang. Their other member, Regina Crawford, refused higher education for a life in finance. If there was anyone on Pembroke’s campus she could trust, it was her girl. “Can I talk to you about administration?” Victoria asked, casting a nervous glance over her shoulder.

Paula typed something before pressing backspace several times. “Girl, yes. Who’s being messy today?”

“Did you get a chance to go to that all-campus meeting last Thursday?”

“Adjuncts don’t have to go,” her friend said with a smile.

Victoria nodded. “Right. So the new president corralled us in an auditorium like Stalin would and told us that the university is basically broke.”

Paula looked up from her work. “What?”

“The last president had been playing the stocks with university money and he lost big,” Victoria said in a low voice.

“Did they tell you this?” Paula asked. She folded her arms over her ample bosom, obscuring the Free Angela graphic on her T-shirt with her brown arms.

“They didn’t have to,” Victoria said with a sigh. “We all knew they had a ton of investments. But that’s not quite the problem. President Kowalski wants faculty and staff to make up the enrollment numbers. I mean, they’re already increasing tuition for next year, but we need to put our heads down and push for higher numbers.”

Paula frowned. “How?”

“Well, I’ll say this about the president, she’s business savvy—”

“Is she?”

“—she’s starting a new open-door policy that might work,” Victoria finished.

Her friend remained unimpressed. “Open-door policies are bullshit.”