Ivory Tower Page 3

  “Ugh,” he said when he caught a glimpse of my computer screen. “I was hoping you were surfing porn. What’s this?”

  I didn’t want to lose the mood, but Pete’s question brought me back to why I’d come out here in the first place, other than the obvious reason of course. Pete had fallen asleep and I was still jazzed so I needed something to do until he was ready to go again.

  “Actually, Melissa got me thinking …”

  “Yes, your good friend Melissa. I get the feeling she doesn’t like me much.”

  “She’s just not used to me being in a couple.”

  “So to remedy the situation, you’re thinking of going into politics?” he joked, indicating the news story about the questionable machinations of a Seattle congressman.

  “Yeah, right.” I wanted to explain but he started kissing me again. He smelled delicious—a combination of aftershave and beer that somehow worked for him.

  “So this Congressman Cody is one of your candidates?” Pete asked.

  “Ex-Congressman. And yes, he seems to be the front runner.”

  Pete scanned the screen. “Looks like a douche bag.”

  “Uh-huh.” I hit the power button and the screen went blank. I wanted his full attention, and I got it in spades. He slid one arm beneath my knees and the other beneath my shoulders and carried me back to the bedroom where he lowered me down on top of the covers, scrambling up beside me.

  Easing my robe aside, he slid down between my legs and gently pried my thighs apart. I gasped in anticipation of what—or rather who—I knew was coming. I had never let a guy do anything like this to me before Pete. When it came down to it, I had always been a pretty old-fashioned girl in the bedroom. Having adopted the missionary position in my teens, I stuck with what worked. Not that I had that much experience before Pete, other than a few college boyfriends who tended to take more than they gave, which was probably why I ended up so focused on my studies and then my career— for all the good it had done me.

  I inhaled sharply when Pete ringed me with his lips. He licked me once, deep and slow, then blew gently until I started to spasm. Then it was on. He began a punishing pace of licking and sucking while I clutched at the blankets, the pillow and finally his hair, until I came loudly. He surged over me, placing his forearms on either side of my face and crushing his slick wet lips over mine.

  Sex with Pete felt so unbelievable in all kinds of unsavory ways. It had never been like this for me before. I wondered if Pete was a punishment for my sins or a reward for my forbearance. I kissed him back for a while—a long while—and then settled back, spent and relaxed, against my pillows.

  Pete dropped down beside me, tracing small circles against my bare shoulder with his fingertips. “You know, I have a conference in Seattle next week. Maybe I could do some digging for you on that Congressman?”

  My heart sank. “You’re going away?”

  “Didn’t I tell you? Sorry, I thought I mentioned it.”

  Not wanting to be one of those needy girlfriends who keep track of their man at every waking moment, I tried to save the situation. “It doesn’t matter. You probably did tell me and I forgot.” His fingers kept tracing those slow sensuous circles and it began to drive me wild. “So what kind of digging did you have in mind?”

  He pressed against me, running one hand down to the apex of my thighs, and winding the other through my hair. Taking one nipple between his teeth, he murmured something I couldn’t make out. I wanted to know what he had said, but my body was seething with need for him and I couldn’t focus. All of a sudden, he stopped his assault on my senses and lifted his head to meet my eyes.

  “You deserve to be happier,” he said quietly.

  “You make me happy.”

  “Oh, I intend to.” He slipped back down between my thighs and that was the end of - conversation for the night.

  *****

  “I’m glad you could make it tonight.” I smiled awkwardly at Melissa from my uncomfortably high barstool. I shouted to make myself heard over the din of half price shot night at the campus bar. Again, I had been thinking neutral territory for this confrontation, but it probably wasn’t one of my best ideas.

  “My pleasure. I don’t get to see that much of you now that you’re with Pretty Boy.”

  Brilliant. It was going to be one of those nights. I began to regret even attempting to clear the air. I sipped my soda in silence until she tapped my free hand on the tabletop.

  “You want to get out of here?” she asked.

  “What about your Shanghai Sunset?” I indicated the neon-colored cocktail in front of her. She raised the glass to her lips and downed the remainder in one gulp, before pushing to her feet and motioning toward the exit. I almost regretted agreeing to leave when the full force of the winter wind hit us. Wrapping my jacket tightly around myself, I hunkered down into its thick folds. “Where to now?”

  “My place?” she offered. “Rob’s working on some virtual geek-fest. He’ll be locked in the den all night.”

  My teeth chattered as I nodded my agreement. We had each taken our own cars to the bar in subtle acknowledgment that we weren’t necessarily expecting things to work out. I followed her the short distance to her modest row house, pulling into the compact driveway behind her shining red SUV. Inside the house, the only sign of Rob was a series of flickering lights under the closed door of his man cave. We headed for the kitchen where Melissa put on a pot of coffee and then ushered me to the living room sofa where she plunked down beside me.

  “Why did you invite me to a bar if you didn’t want to drink?” she asked.

  “I wanted to talk, and I thought alcohol would be a good incentive.”

  “You know me too well.” She grinned. I hated to admit it, but I’d missed that grin. We’d been skating on thin ice since that night at the bowling alley. She hadn’t been cold exactly, but she kept her distance.

  I took a deep breath. “Melissa, what’s going on?”

  “Ah. So you want to get right to it.” She picked at a loose thread on the afghan slung over the back of the sofa. “Okay, I’ll say it. I’m worried about you, Evie. I mean, I want you to be happy and all, but this new guy …”

  “Pete. His name is Pete.”

  “Are you so sure about that?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I did some checking, and, well, it’s very difficult to get a handle on this guy. He shows up at the last minute after a mysterious death in the bio-chem department. The position is barely advertised before they’ve made the appointment. Google him and virtually nothing shows up.”

  “What?”

  “Evie, please don’t be angry, but there’s something about him. He gives me a bad vibe.”

  “God forbid I should date someone who gives you a bad vibe.” I realized the conversation was going downhill fast and I didn’t do anything to stop it. “I don’t believe this. I finally find a guy I like and—”

  “Don’t be like that. I’m just worried about you. He seems too … perfect. I mean, haven’t you ever heard of a sociopath?”

  “Oh please don’t start with all that pop psychology again.” Much as I hated it when Melissa flaunted her psychology background, I had to admit to the tiniest bit of unease. Pete really did seem too good to be true. And he had that dangerous edge that I didn’t want to talk about—or even think about .

  Melissa regarded me carefully, apparently unsure of her next move.

  “Okay, Mel, I admit I don’t know all that much about him, but it’s not like we’re getting married or anything. It’s just a bit of fun.”

  “That’s all? Scout’s honor?” Melissa looked relieved, although her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

  “Melissa, I’m surprised at you.” I raised my hand to my heart in mock horror. “I thought y
ou were supposed to be a feminist!”

  “Girl Guide’s Honor then?” Her eyes twinkled briefly and I figured this was as good as it was going to get. “Just be careful, okay? I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  Melissa headed back to the kitchen for the coffee, but I was already lost in thought. I pulled my sleeves back from my wrists, and examined the hint of bruising where Pete had held me down when he took me, before his Seattle trip. It seemed harmless enough at the time. Not harmless, exactly. It had been … exciting. But had it been dangerous? I needed to be able to think straight, to weigh Melissa’s words more carefully, but my traitorous body was becoming wet just thinking about that night. I wanted more. Desperately. There was no denying it. Had I already followed Pete too far down the rabbit hole? What would happen to me if I had?

  *****

  Magary graced me with his familiar death glare as I entered the conference room a few minutes behind my colleagues. Clearly, he was not amused at having to call an emergency session of the committee at what should have been the tail end of our winter break. There were surprisingly few people in attendance —only four of my colleagues were seated at the table. I wondered what was going on until Magary spoke into the speakerphone. “Everyone here now?”

  He was answered by a crackling round of “yeahs,” “hellos,” and “go aheads”. Apparently not everyone tore themselves away from their holiday plans for the meeting.

  Magary cleared his throat before speaking again. “Apologies for the short notice, but there have been some developments on the dean search front. As some of you may have heard, our leading candidate, Congressman Cody passed away recently.” The voices on the other end of the phone rose unintelligibly and died down after a few moments. “So we’re in a tough spot. The search consultants advised us that usually the committee would either proceed with the remaining candidates or look for a new fifth to round out the pool. We were planning to do that, but we’ve run into some problems.”

  “What kind of problems?” A disembodied voice from the speaker asked.

  “Well, not to put too fine a point on it, we can’t afford to have a failed dean search and we have some reservations about the remaining candidates. I think we all agreed that Professors Sharpe and Glenn are probably not quite up to our standards and we only included them as backups.” Magary’s words were met with general murmurs of assent.

  “So that leaves Professor Adams?” another voice asked.

  “And Professor Maxwell,” I added gloomily.

  “And therein lies the problem,” Magary said. “It looks as though Professor Adams is no longer a realistic option. His wife has taken ill and requires medical care in New York. So if we forwarded his name to the Provost and he was offered the position, we would likely have wasted valuable time and may lose Professor Maxwell in the process.”

  “Why?” I didn’t like where he was going.

  “We don’t know what other deanships Professor Maxwell might be considering, so we might lose him if we wait on Professor Adams,” Magary said.

  “Why don’t we ask him if he has a particular time frame?” I asked, “Wouldn’t that solve the problem?”

  Magary started to fidget with his smartphone. “Perhaps. But there is the other matter of public perception. How would it look if we passed over one of our own for an outsider who is unlikely to accept the position? Maxwell might turn us down on principle if he finds out he’s the second choice.”

  Fat chance of that, I thought, but knew better than to voice further objections. Sounded like the decision had already been made anyway.

  “In any event,” Magary says, “I’ve discussed this with the Provost and the question arises as to what we would think of proceeding with Maxwell as our sole recommendation.”

  “Doesn’t the Provost require the committee to recommend at least two names for him to choose from?” a voice crackled through the speaker.

  Magary shifted slightly in his seat before answering. “Usually, but the Provost told me that under the circumstances he is prepared to accept one nomination if the committee is happy with it. So, shall we put it to a vote?” No one answered. “I should note that the Provost also suggested that if we do proceed in this manner, it would be very helpful for him to have a unanimous vote from the committee.”

  I couldn’t help making a last ditch effort, if not for myself, then at least to save the faculty from that pompous ass Maxwell. “Couldn’t we reconsider Professor Waters?”

  There was silence as those present looked to the head of the table to gauge Magary’s reaction. His face remained impassive.

  I continued, trying to keep the quaver from my voice, “I mean, she’s extremely well qualified. We all liked her and she almost made it into the top five.” I looked hopefully around the room. No one would meet my eyes and there was dead silence from the speakerphone.

  “Are you making a formal motion for us to reconsider Professor Waters’s candidacy?” Magary asked coolly.

  “Um, yes, I guess I am.”

  “Is there a second?” Magary asked, waiting only a second before speaking again. “ Shall we proceed?”

  As my abstention would not count under the university by-laws, the committee ended up recording a unanimous recommendation for Maxwell.

  ****

  “You’re at work late.” Pete’s voice echoed across the phone line. From the background noise, I guessed he was at an airport. He’d been traveling a lot since the Seattle trip. First, there was the weekend in New York, and now Utah. I was a little offended that he never invited me along. He was probably right that I would be bored sitting around with a bunch of science geeks, although I’m sure I could have found something to do with myself in New York.

  “Are you still in Salt Lake?” I asked.

  “Yeah. My flight was delayed. I should be back late tonight. Go home and wait for me?”

  Warm tingles radiated through me. I smiled at the thought that he called my apartment home. Technically, he had been renting a room in a shared house downtown, but for all the time he spent there, he may as well not have bothered.

  “The Provost wants to see me,” I said, “but don’t worry, - I’ll be in bed before you hit the runway.” My thoughts were interrupted by a sharp rapping at my office door. “Speak of the devil. Talk later?” I said into the phone.

  “Okay, babe. Miss you.” Pete hung up and I could barely wipe the smile from my face. The door opened to reveal the Provost with Magary in tow.

  “Good evening, Professor King.” The Provost addressed me formally. Magary ceded the only free chair to him.

  “What can I do for you gentlemen?”

  “As you will recall,” Magary said, “ we offered the deanship to Professor Maxwell.”

  “On the unanimous advice of your committee,” the Provost reminded me.

  Magary continued, “Professor King, were you aware that Professor Maxwell left town with his family to talk things over?”

  I shook my head.

  “Taking on a deanship is a significant responsibility. Professor Maxwell wanted to ensure that his family would be comfortable with the commitment,” he said.

  What a crock. Every year, right after the winter break, Maxwell took his family on an expensive vacation to avoid the holiday crowds, canceling classes and assigning his students busywork to make up their allotted hours. Magary hesitated, glancing sideways at the Provost before he spoke again. “Unfortunately, there was a mishap.”

  What?

  “Professor Maxwell was involved in a skiing accident.” Magary flicked an imaginary speck of dust from his lapel, as the Provost addressed me again, “So, Professor King, we’re in a tight spot and we were wondering if we might prevail on you …”

  ****

  Storming into my apartment, I slammed the door and dumped my satchel and jacket un
ceremoniously on the sofa. Forcing myself to take a deep breath, I snapped on the kitchen light and made a beeline for the bottle of bourbon Pete kept in my pantry. I poured myself several fingers in a chipped coffee mug and was about to gulp it down when I noticed the light blinking on my answering machine. Hoping for an update from Pete—who obviously wasn’t back yet—I pressed the message button.

  “Evie? Are you there? Pick up if you are.” It was Melissa’s voice and she was speaking unusually fast. After a brief pause, the message continued. “Okay, if you’re really not there, check your email when you get this.” There was another pause, followed by the sound of a deep breath, then the message went on more slowly. Her tone sounded strained, with a kind of forced lightness. “I guess it’s not really important. Don’t interrupt anything you might be doing with — loverboy —but when you have a moment …”

  I deleted the message, glancing from the mug in my hand to the computer screen. What the heck? Pete was on a plane. My career was a joke. Why not indulge Melissa? Things had been better between us since that night at the bar, even though we’d avoided talking about Pete and the dean search since then.

  Turning on my desk lamp, I leaned forward to flick the computer monitor on and called up my email. I was confronted with a bunch of administrative announcements and a few student queries, with Melissa’s message sandwiched in between. The subject line was empty but there was a paperclip beside it signaling an attachment. When I clicked on the message it was also blank. I wondered if I had a computer virus. Even if I did, the attachment was a .pdf so it was probably safe. Taking a sip of bourbon, I clicked on the attachment.

  It took several seconds for the file to load. It appeared to be a scanned clipping from some newspaper in New Mexico. I couldn’t quite make out the date, but the headline read: “Suspect Taken for Questioning in College Murder Drama.” The story was about the murder of a young research assistant in a science department at a small state college. Police were unsure as to motive and it was apparently unclear that there had been a murder at all until a trace of an unusual chemical compound showed up in the autopsy. The compound should have dissolved well before the body was examined, but by a stroke of luck, the victim had been taking medication that slowed the rate of dissolution. Weird.