Shuffle: A Novel Part 7

"Thank you."

It wasn't Ellen, but Arbor who had answered. I froze. He was behind me.

"Just taking the p.i.s.s. May I cut in?"

Ellen's eyebrows shot up about three inches and she scooted away, a devilish grin playing across her lips. I turned around. He held out his hand, pulling me toward him.

I breathed deeply and stepped into his arms. My skin thrilled at his embrace as he moved me gently around the dance floor. He smelled curiously of lavender and rain-soaked earth, the one fresh spot in a room clouded with the stench of alcohol, body odor and commingling perfumes. He wasn't sweating, although he must have been hot in his polo. The silence between us grew uncomfortable a he was staring at me, and I held him stiffly, at arm's length.

"Hi," I said, lamely. "Come here often?" I glanced away and grimaced, silently furious with myself for being so awkward. Besides, I couldn't hold his gaze for long. Those black eyes were slowly boring their way into my skull.

Arbor didn't answer, just pulled me closer until the song ended. My body seemed to mold itself to his contours; I was aware of my b.r.e.a.s.t.s brus.h.i.+ng up against his chest, and when his arms fully encircled me I could hear his heartbeat, feel the graze of his s.h.i.+rt collar at my ear. We swayed softly, lost in the dark. My own heart was about to burst when the music s.h.i.+fted again.

The ba.s.s came back, a throbbing groove with hooky synth overlays. I felt his lean hips move against mine. I tensed, tried to break away, but he kept me near and I gave in without a struggle. Wanted to give in. We ground slowly against each other's bodies. I knew everyone was watching us, but in that moment I didn't care. Arbor put his hand to the side of my head, caressing my cheek with his thumb as the rest of his fingers slid under my hair. His touch was like a burning brand. He ran his thumb gently over the softest parts of my lips. I pulled him closer, clutching his sweater, breathing him in.

His other hand fondled my waist, lingered at the bare part where my top and my jeans didn't quite meet. My whole body was aching.

"Kiss me," I whispered.

He leaned down and trailed his lips lightly across my collarbone. I heard him breathe in slowly as he nuzzled my neck, causing a sensation so intense I almost fainted. I had no idea my body could feel this way.

Oh G.o.d, Evi. What are you doing?

I shoved him away, suddenly aware that I didn't want this. Our arms were entangled for a moment; I stumbled into somebody else. Then I backed out of the knot of dancers, leaving him still, alone. He didn't seem hurt or surprised. He just let me go, and only the cool placidity remained on his face.

I looked around the room for Ellen, but she was nowhere to be seen. I caught Britta's eye. She just glared at me, tugging up her tube top and taking another slug of her punch. Vi and Shelby were dancing. I half walked, half stumbled down the hallway, looking for some place a any place! a to catch my breath and calm down. I jiggled the handle of the bathroom door, but it was occupied. Fine, I'd just slip into one of the other rooms... there were quite a few...

Finally a k.n.o.b turned, and I pushed a door open. The room was pitch dark. I shut myself in before anybody could find me.

Alone with my thoughts, I could finally breathe. The music drifted through the walls, m.u.f.fled and far away. I could see the lights of Stevens Peak out one of the windows, tiny bright points against the inky blackness. I fumbled for a switch.

When I finally found one and flicked it on, I gasped. This was Arbor's room. There was his computer, a sleek black Mac laptop. There was a pile of his books, including some of our Cicero references, and a couple notebooks that didn't look as though they'd been written in at all. It was neat. His bed was made.

The whole room smelled like him. I walked shakily over to the bed and sat down. I ran my hand over the navy blue comforter. Soft. I imagined him sleeping here, imagined his face at rest and peaceful. It was a nice mental picture.

I stood up, wondering if I dared act on my earlier intention to snoop. Casually, I wandered over to his chest of drawers. I bit my lip nervously and slid open the top drawer, steeling myself, not sure what I'd find. Quickly I glanced down.

Only a watch and some electronics.

A tense knot was forming in my stomach. I wanted to stop. But I ignored my own instinct and pulled the next drawer open, and the next. s.h.i.+rts, pants, socks and underwear (boxers). Everything normal, just a little... I don't know. Too tidy, I guess. It wasn't the things that were there that were giving me a weird vibe. It was the things that were missing. Arbor had nothing in his room beyond what was needed. No items to indicate a personal taste. Not even one poster or DVD.

I sighed as I closed the last drawer. Then I dropped to my knees and peeked under his bed. Nothing. I think it had even been vacuumed recently. I tapped the s.p.a.cebar on the Mac, and the screen lit up. It had pa.s.sword protection, and I'm no hacker. So there was only one place left to check.

The closet.

I approached it slowly. The tips of my fingers tingled as I put my hand on the k.n.o.b. My breath stilled in my chest, deadly calm. I slid the door open.

It was bare. Just a few unused wire hangers. And in the farthest corner, deep in the shadows, a pair of muddy leather shoes.

Chapter 5.

"Oh my G.o.d."

I got down on my hands and knees to inspect them. The light was bad, barely coming in through the slats of the closet door. I carefully pulled back the tongue of one of the shoes. The label was faded, but legible. Men's size 11.

I heard footsteps in the hallway. Quickly, before I could think about it, I stuffed the shoes in my purse and fastened the clasp, closing the closet door and falling back down on the bed in one fluid motion. Somewhere in the middle of it all, the door opened. Arbor poked his head in.

"Hi," he said.

What had he seen?

I clutched my purse to my side and fiddled with my hair, as though I were just sorting out some cosmetic issues. Of course, there was no mirror available. s.h.i.+t. I must have looked like such an amateur.

"Hi," I replied. Murderer.

Arbor made no indication that he suspected me of anything. As the knot of tension in my stomach blossomed into fear, he walked over and sat next to me on the bed, hand grazing my bare arm. "Come here often?"

"Ha ha."

His shy smile was disarming. I dropped the sarcastic front.

"I just needed a breather."

He nodded. We sat there awkwardly for a few moments. I didn't know what to say to him, and, as always, he seemed content to stare at that d.a.m.ned spot just above and to the right of my head. I began to wonder if he had some sort of wandering eye problem.

I needed to find some way to tell him not to expect any more neck kisses. He drew his fingers lightly over my hand, and I barely stopped myself recoiling from his touch. Oh, G.o.d. He has the shoes. He might have... I didn't know what to think, other than I wanted to get away from him. Fast.

"Look, I hope a "

But we were interrupted by a crash.

There were voices in the hallway. Loud voices. We both jumped up and ran to the door. A group was gathering outside the bathroom.

"You stay away from him, b.i.t.c.h!"

I pushed through the throng. It was Amanda Petrov. One of the straps of her yellow sundress had slipped down her arm; she was waving a drink around and screeching at someone just out of sight. Her heels were too high. She tottered on them drunkenly.

"We were only talking." It was Jim's voice, softer, but sharp with annoyance. I peeked around Amanda's shoulder and saw Ellen sitting on the edge of the bathtub, looking terrified. Jim stood by the sink, calmly facing Amanda.

But Amanda wasn't paying any attention to Jim. All her focus was on Ellen, her eyes two glittering slits of fury. "I knew he was cheating on me. You black b.i.t.c.h."

Ellen's mouth dropped open. She went from scared and embarra.s.sed to angry in a split second. She stood up. "Call me that again!"

"Amanda," said Jim, holding the two of them apart. "Get this through your head. You and I? We are not together."

"That's not what you said on the dance floor, baby." Amanda giggled and rubbed her body up against him, almost spilling her drink. She was wasted.

"Jesus," Jim sighed, pus.h.i.+ng her away as firmly as he could without hurting her.

Someone crowded up next to me. I glanced over at George Farmer. All the blood drained from his face; he looked nervous. "Jim? Everything okay?"

Jim's gaze flicked up for a second and then back down. "Yeah, Farmer, way to mind your own business. Everything's fine."

Amanda rolled her eyes and c.o.c.ked her hip, gesturing at Ellen. "So that's it?" she asked, "You're with bootylicious now?"

I almost punched her. I threw my hand out a Arbor stopped me. He crushed my arm in a steel grip, not letting go even after I dropped it to my side. His fingers were bruising.

Jim glanced guiltily over at Ellen. "No," he said. "We're not together either."

George sighed. "Obviously." He retreated, muttering to himself under his breath.

I wondered what all that was about.

Ellen didn't know whether to look mad or hurt. I decided it was about time to leave. I shook Arbor off, rubbing my arm, which was sore where he'd grabbed it, and took Ellen's hand, leading her out of the apartment. The music was still thudding as we slammed the door behind us and ran down the hallway to the stairs, not wanting to wait for the elevator.

By the time we'd made it down all six flights, Ellen was crying. I fished in her handbag and found the valet ticket, which I presented to the man at the front door. Then I put my arms around her.

"I'm so sorry," I said.

She hiccuped. "I thought we were together." Her breaths came in shuddering gasps. I rocked her, swaying gently as the valet brought her car around. "I thought he was finally going to stand up for me."

"I did too."

I took the keys and helped Ellen into the pa.s.senger seat. She let me, wiping tears and snot off her cheeks with a shaky hand as I put the engine into gear and drove down the long, fern-lined driveway.

"G.o.d, that Amanda."

"I know." She sniffed and sighed wearily. "It's not even the blatant name-calling. I mean, that's bad too, obviously. But it's just like, every single day I have to be aware of the color of my skin. And wonder if people are treating me differently than they would Amanda. Or you. It's so stressful; you have no idea."

I nodded. I started to feel nervous, like she was putting me in the same category as Amanda. But I didn't say anything. I listened.

"With Jim, it was always in the back of my head... Is that why he doesn't ask me out? Could it be? Ugh. It's almost a relief having it out in the open. Almost." Ellen made a frustrated sound in her throat, then hiccuped again. "I'm sorry, Evi. But sometimes I really hate white people."

"Me too."

She leaned her head into my shoulder and sobbed softly as I drove her home through the quiet streets. Jim, that b.a.s.t.a.r.d. I was almost angrier at him than Amanda. What a coward! They deserved each other.

We finally made it to Ellen's house. I pulled into the driveway, gravel crunching. The porch lights were still on. We got out of the car.

"I called Callie on my cell. She should be here to pick me up in a few minutes."

Ellen nodded glumly. The tears had stopped, but her eyes were the saddest I'd ever seen them. I gave her another hug. "You're too good for him," I whispered.

"You can say that again." She laughed a little, a sad laugh.

"Way too good." I squeezed her hand as we parted, and watched her slip into her house.

I was seething with anger. I literally wanted to kill anyone who had ever made her feel bad about herself.

Luckily Callie pulled up before I could do anything stupid. I got in and slammed the door.

"Have a nice night?"

"The worst."

She nodded sagely. "Yup." The anger I was feeling settled in my chest by the time we got home. It was only then that I remembered why my purse was so bulky. Callie had changed into her pajamas and started to make me some tea, shuffling around the kitchen in slippers and Mom's old threadbare bathrobe.

Suddenly I was afraid to tell her what I'd done.

"Cal? I a " The words caught in my throat. She looked up at me from the whistling kettle, face open, ready to listen.

Then it all came pouring out. Everything. From the weird modern art painting to the dirty dancing to Ellen and Jim. To the shoes. (Okay, so I may have left out the vodka.) Her mouth fell open. I pulled the shoes one by one out of my bag.

"Please tell me you didn't." She came over and sat down, hands at her temples, gazing at them.

"Size eleven," I said. "Muddy soles." I turned one over and we both studied the pattern. It was the exact same as the footprint in the locker.

"Oh G.o.d, Evi. Have you learned nothing from TV?"

"What?"

Callie looked suddenly old. The lines on her face stood out. "A warrant," she snapped. "You need a warrant to take other people's things."

"But I'm not a police officer."

"Evi, you stole these. You broke the law. There's no way I can use them now. They're worthless. I don't suppose you took a picture of them, or doc.u.mented how you found them, did you?"

I thought of the camera sitting unused in my bag and groaned. For all anyone knew, I bought those shoes at a store, broke them in and smeared mud on them in an attempt to incriminate a guy who I was semi-involved with.

"Oops."

"Oops? Yeah, go ahead and say oops. You'll be lucky if that kid doesn't press charges."

"Well," I said, sullenly, "at least we know who cleared out the locker."

Callie sighed. She pursed her lips and nodded. "Sure looks that way. But those could be from anywhere."

I told her about Arbor's neat, bare room. How the shoes were just sitting by themselves in his closet. Older and more worn out than the rest of his clothes.

"I have to do a presentation with him next week. We're partners, and now I'm frightened to death of him."

Callie squinted and tapped her fingers on the table. "Here's the deal," she said. "Tomorrow morning those shoes get wrapped in a plastic bag and tossed in a dumpster somewhere. We don't tell anyone. Maybe Arbor won't find out which of the people at the party took them."