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a new one?”
    “That I did. He has been dating an abusive professor.”
    “What, you mean one of his grad school profs? He’s doing an MFA in the arts, right?”
    “Last time I checked it was photography. I talked to the department head, who did not seem surprised—either about the allegations of dating a student or the allegations of abusive behavior. I got the feeling that, as both student and instructor are gay men, this was somehow swept under the rug in a way it would not have been if the student had been a young woman. Like the rules are different based on gender. Is it still so embarrassing to be gay in New Mexico? I wouldn’t have thought so. It was ridiculous, the man seemed unable to think in any manner that would lead to a decision! I can’t imagine how he runs a committee meeting, much less a graduate department at the university level. So I went to the dean of students and the vice president, let them both know if this matter wasn’t handled to my satisfaction within two weeks, I would take further action. The dean actually asked me what further action I had in mind.”
    “Oh, man, that was a piss-poor move.”
    “You would think a basic understanding of the nature of strategy and tactics would be required study for any leader in this day and age, much less the leaders of an institution of higher learning, but apparently not. Linear thinking gets a bad rap for not being creative, but at some point decisions need to be made. Conclusions drawn. The entire world can’t stop work to brainstorm with their dicks in their hands, fun as that might be.”
    Gabriel toyed with his bottle, shoved the tiny wedge of lime down into the neck of the beer. “Maybe a deposition, so you can go to the police without having to drag Kim along.”
    “Who needs to do a deposition? Does it have to be a lawyer?”
    “I can take the deposition. We really need photos, but I can’t see Kim announcing to the world he’s a victim. A lawsuit might be worth considering, or just the threat of a lawsuit. We might use the media, as well. Nasty story, that.”
    They fell silent, listening to the ladies in the purple shirts sing an old-fashioned barbershop song, “Down by the Old Mill Stream,” then John Fogerty took over the loudspeakers, singing put me in, Coach, I’m ready to play .
    Gabriel drained the bottle of beer and put the empty in the seat holder. “One of his professors. What in the hell is wrong with people, they think they can do anything and get away with it? Everyone seems to understand the nature of free choice but no one understands consequences.”
    John stared out across the field, watched the ball players line up, their caps over their hearts. “I am going to make sure this little prick understands clearly the consequences before he touches another young man.”
     
     
    “D EAN F OX ! We don’t see you in this building nearly often enough!” John could tell Cynthia was beaming.
    “Cynthia, you are like a ray of sunshine this morning. Do you suppose I could speak to the general for a moment?”
    “Yes, of course! I’ll just see if he’s available.”
    John stayed behind his desk when Cynthia brought Dean Fox in, but rose to offer a silent handshake.
    “So, John, how is your graduate seminar? Theory of Political Leadership, isn’t it?”
    “Something like that. What can I do for you?”
    The dean leaned back in his chair, folded his hands over his belly. “I wonder if you’ve had a chance to rethink your position vis-à-vis this unfortunate….”
    “The episode of physical assault by a professor toward a student? Rethink in what way, Dean?”
    “When we spoke last, I recommended you consider the political realities of this situation. That’s your field, after all. I mean, no one understands politics the way you do without understanding the art of the compromise.”
    “Actually, I’m here to teach leadership theory. Leadership, not politics. Unfortunately, they no longer appear to be quite the