He was smiling, standing beside his giant stainless steel barbecue wearing a red plaid shirt and blue jeans, a soda in one hand and a pair of tongs in the other. This would have been early last summer. They’d eaten steaks and salads on the patio and talked for hours. Afterward, they had watched a movie on pay per view. He couldn’t remember the name of it now, but it was a comedy. He could still remember the way Sheila had felt snuggled up in his arms, and the light in her eyes when she laughed.
Morris blinked back tears, appalled at the thought that someone might catch him crying in her office. He grabbed a box from the stack and methodically began to fill it.
After the boxes were brought out to his car, Morris went back inside the office to speak to Dolores.
In a low voice, he asked, “Do you know where I can find one of Sheila’s teaching assistants? Ethan Wolfe. He, uh, might have something of Sheila’s that I need to bring with me.”
“Let me check.” Dolores typed something into the computer. “Yes, he has office hours today. Room six oh six. Make a left when you leave the elevator.”
Morris thanked her one last time.
Two minutes later, he was standing outside a small, sparsely decorated office, staring at the back of Ethan Wolfe’s head. The grad student was seated behind his desk but was turned toward the window, his back to the doorway. Morris rapped his knuckles hard on the doorframe.
“It’s open,” Wolfe said, spinning around in his chair. His face froze.
Morris stepped inside.
The kid was better looking than he remembered, but then again, he hadn’t looked at Wolfe too closely the night they’d met. Morris had been too focused on whether Sheila had liked her diamond bracelet. Feeling self-conscious, he sucked in his gut and stood up straighter.
Wolfe was on the phone. “Gotta go,” he said quietly into the receiver. “See you at home.” He placed the handset back in its cradle.
“Howdy.” Morris was trying for pleasant, but it came out gruff. “Don’t know if you remember me. I’m Morris Gardener.”
“Sheila’s fiancé. Of course.” Looking less than enthused, Wolfe lifted himself out of his chair.
They shook hands and Morris found himself pressing harder on the younger man’s palm than was necessary.
“What brings you by?”
“The lady in the office asked me to pack up Sheila’s things.” Morris gave the smaller man a deliberate once-over. “Guess they need the office space.”
Wolfe nodded and sat back down. The Seahawks bobble-head on the desk vibrated. “Office space is like gold around here. Sheila had the best spot in the building, with the best view.”
“Mind if I sit?”
“Go ahead.”
Morris reached for the door.
“Would you mind leaving it open?” Wolfe said quickly. “It gets pretty stuffy in here.”
That pang again.
Morris shut the door firmly behind him. “I think you’ll agree that what we need to talk about is best kept private.”
Wolfe stiffened.
Morris eased himself into the small chair across from Wolfe and studied the young man, who was sipping something from Starbucks and watching him with a furtive expression. Christ, Ethan Wolfe was still a kid. And he looked completely uncomfortable. It was a total one-eighty from the last time Morris had seen him, when he was all cock and swagger.
Something about the way the kid sat in the chair was familiar. The thought nagged, and Morris allowed himself to ruminate on it for about five seconds before reminding himself that he and Wolfe had met before.
The TA finally broke the silence. “Is there news about Dr. Tao?”
“I don’t have any answers for you, son.”
Wolfe bristled at the condescending term. “Well, if you talk to her, let her know we miss her. I’m working under Professor Easton now, and just between you and me, I’m afraid to pick up a pencil, if you know what I mean.” Wolfe’s chuckle sounded forced. A bead of sweat was at his hairline, though the room was cool. He stood up suddenly. “Mind if I open a window?”
“Not at all.”
As Wolfe tugged at the small pane, Morris couldn’t help noticing the bulge of the younger man’s biceps below the short sleeves of his T-shirt. The last time he’d been that lean, Morris was sixteen and playing high school football. A moment later a blast of cool air filled the room.
Wolfe sat back down, his face a little brighter than before. His lips turned up in an arrogant smile. “So, Morris, if there’s no news, what is it you want to discuss?”
“How long have you been working with Sheila? A year?”
Wolfe’s expression was cool. “Just about. She was my mentor. I’m really disappointed she left because this is my last year. I would have loved to finish under her.”
And over her, and from behind, and any other position you get her into, blowhard.
“She’s the best professor at this school,” Wolfe continued. “Hands down. Her lectures were incredible, as I’m sure you know.” He sipped his coffee again, no longer rattled.
“I wouldn’t know, actually.”
“You’ve never heard her lecture?”
“Never had the privilege.”
“Wow.” Wolfe leaned back in his chair, smug. “I’d have thought being engaged and all, you’d have taken an interest in her work. She was the most dynamic-”
A knock at the door interrupted Wolfe midsentence. Morris realized he was breathing hard and forced himself to calm down. Turning his head, he saw Dolores in the doorway.
“Hi again, Morris.”
She gave him a warm smile and he forced himself to smile back. The woman had no idea she’d just saved Wolfe from getting his face smashed into the desk.
“What’s up, Dolores?” Wolfe sounded breezy.
“I’m sorry to interrupt you gentlemen, but, Ethan, Danny Ambrose is here. He’s really upset. He said Dr. Tao told him he was getting a B, but you entered a C into the system and now he’s having problems with his scholarship. Can I steal you for a quick sec?”
“This might take a few minutes,” Wolfe said, standing. He seemed amused for no reason Morris could see.
“I’ll wait,” Morris said.
Alone, he looked around at the dismal office, much smaller than Sheila’s and lacking personality. He poked hard at the Seahawks bobblehead to make it nod faster and contemplated how he was going to ask Wolfe about the affair. Should he come straight out with it? Or dance around it and try to make the kid squirm?
The bobblehead’s abnormally large cranium fell off its skinny body with a clatter and rolled around on the desk a few times. Morris made a grab for it before it could fall over the edge and hit the floor.
Shit, it was broken. Holding the plastic head in his hand, he allowed himself a smirk at the sight of the headless body. It was a nice parallel for what he felt like doing to Ethan Wolfe.
Fumbling with large fingers, he worked at reattaching the head. As he fiddled with the springs, something small and shiny rolled away from the base. Morris picked it up, assuming it was another broken part. But it wasn’t, not even close.
He knew exactly what this was, because it belonged to him.
Stunned, he traced the engraved initials on the platinum face. MG.
It was the missing cuff link he’d been looking for. What the hell was Wolfe doing with it? Morris’s mind raced.
Had Sheila given it to her boy toy? No, that made no sense. What would have been the point of giving Wolfe just one cuff link? Besides, they were personalized with Morris’s initials.
Had he left it at Sheila’s house and Wolfe had swiped it from there? No, impossible. Morris had never worn the cuff links to Sheila’s house.
Wolfe would be back any minute. Slipping the cuff link into his pocket, Morris made his way out of the office.
Six minutes later he was in his Cadillac. He closed and locked the car doors. In the privacy of the vehicle, he pulled out the cuff link and stared at it in disbelief.