Flyleaf

Chapter 1Adam Craig had just stepped out of the shower when the phone rang. He was tempted to ignore it, but not many people had his new number, so this might be important. “Hello?” “Hey, babe. How are things in Ohio?” There was no mistaking that rumble. “Brian, it’s good to hear your voice, finally! I’m okay. How are you adjusting to California?” “It’s a weird place. They don’t call it La La Land for nothing.” “Oh, come on, you haven’t been there long enough to know.” “The folks at UCLA have been great. But I gotta tell ya, LA isn’t anything like where we were.” Adam chuckled. “I can well imagine.” “So, what are you up to?” “As a matter of fact, I’m standing here naked. I just got out of the shower.” “Yum!” “Cut that out! With all the eye candy in Cali, you won’t miss this scrawny body.” “I will, you know. I miss you already.” “And I miss you. But we agreed…You know what, babe? I’ve got to get to a reception.” “Oh, I keep forgetting about the time difference! I bet I know what that reception’s all about. Your dean or provost or somebody is having a wine-and-cheese do for new faculty.” “Exactly! You also know how much I hate those things, but must needs put in an appearance.” “Tell me about it! I have the same kind of thing tomorrow evening. Look, I’d better let you go. The reason I’m calling is that I’ve finally got a phone. So I thought instead of sending the number by email I’d give you a shout and see how you’re doing. Wanna take it down? Then you can be on your way. But call me soon, okay? We can compare notes.” “I’ll want to talk about more than the stupid reception, Bri. We promised we’d stay in touch.” “Yeah, you miss me, don’t ya?” “Man, you know it!” Adam scrabbled around for a pencil and scrap of paper. He hadn’t been in his condo long enough to be well organized, so it took a couple of minutes. Then he wrote down Brian’s number, promised to call, and hung up. He wouldn’t be the one who failed to call, to let contact lapse. He was cold. The air conditioning on his damp skin left him with goose bumps. He grabbed a towel and scrubbed his body. Then he began to dress. “Life is full of endings and beginnings.” Christ, Craig, that’s trite! But it’s true. One of the problems of having a PhD in English is that you recognize your own clichés. At least you didn’t think new beginnings. Adam sighed audibly. Then he thought, It’s good I’m not into so-called creative writing. I’d never make it. He knotted the tie and adjusted it squarely between the points of his shirt collar. But the reason for these things is that they contain an element of truth. Take me. My life back there is over. My life with Brian is over. The two of them had taught at a state university in the hills about two hundred thirty miles east of Colby, Brian in journalism, Adam in English. Adam had gone there when he’d completed his doctoral studies and had remained there for fifteen years. And here I am, he thought, forty years old, ready to make a new start, career-wise at least. It’ll be lonely without Brian. We agreed we’d both move on, but that’s going to be hard. He slipped on his blazer, checked the pockets of his chinos, and left the condo, making sure the door locked behind him. He took the elevator to the garage in the basement, got into his just paid-off Miata, and programmed Dean Stockton’s address into his Garmin. If he’d known the dean lived so close he’d have walked. To make matters worse, he had to park in the lot of the physics building, a block away. Obviously the closer on-street spaces had been taken by those who arrived on time for the four o’clock reception for new faculty in Colby State’s College of Arts and Sciences. It was 4:25. So he’d be fashionably late… The dean’s house was a two-story red-brick Georgian with a white portico and columns. Green shutters flanked the symmetrically-arranged windows. The whole thing would have looked more appropriate in Virginia than in northwest Ohio. Richmond in Colby County. In the foyer a table had been set up to the right of the door. Behind it sat an attractive young woman, a student obviously, all shiny hair and perfect teeth. On the table were a half a dozen name tags. God, he hated name tags! But no reason to take it out on her. “I’m Adam Craig,” he said, returning her smile. “Hello, Dr. Craig.” She handed him a name tag. “Would you mind putting this on? Dean Stockton says it helps at these affairs where people don’t know one another.” Silently giving the girl full marks for knowing the difference between each other and one another, he smiled and put the tag on the left lapel of his blazer. When he stepped from the foyer into the large room to his right, he was greeted by the Dean, who peered at his name tag and then called him by name. “Ah, Dr. Craig. Welcome. Glad you could make it.” As if there were any choice, Adam thought. “It’s nice to be here,” he said. He was introduced to the dean’s wife, who gave him an appraising look as they shook hands, and was then left on his own. He moved slowly toward a table where a young man in black trousers, a white shirt, and a black bow tie was dispensing sherry in plastic cups. It figures, he thought. He hadn’t had time to investigate the munchies before he heard a voice behind him. “Adam, I was beginning to wonder about you.” He turned to see his department chair. Although he made no claim to expertise in women’s fashions, he thought Donna Kasmaryk looked great. She was wearing a tan two-piece outfit with a dark green blouse. Her straight auburn hair looked as if she’d just come from the salon. He envied her the hair. If his could have been auburn instead of carroty red, straight instead of curly, he’d have been happier with the way he looked. “Hello, Dr. Kasmaryk. A friend called just as I was getting dressed, and that delayed me a little.” He wasn’t about to tell his new chair that he’d been talking with his former lover and that he’d been naked at the time. “No matter. Those things happen. So, I assume you’ve met most of the new faculty at the orientation sessions earlier this week. But perhaps you can get to know some of them a little better this evening.” She paused, smiled, and asked, “Are you all ready for classes to begin Monday?” “Rarin’ to go!” he said. At least he’d rather be in class than standing around like an extra on a movie set. His boss moved away, leaving him to look around the room. He did indeed recognize several of the people in the room as being newcomers like himself, people he’d met at the orientation sessions for new faculty. Several of them looked as lost as he felt. He took a sip of the sweet wine. Awful! He wasn’t fond of sherry, and this was certainly not imported from Spain. Someone next to him chuckled. “You don’t like the dean’s sherry?” He turned to see two men. It was apparent that they were a couple, both fiftyish. The taller of the two was, like Adam, wearing a navy blazer, blue shirt, and striped tie. But his trousers were a lightweight gray flannel, and he was wearing very shiny plain-toe black oxfords. About 6’2” with short dark hair and green eyes, he had the spit-and-polish look that suggested he was ex-military. The other man, a couple of inches shorter, was wearing a tan sport coat over dark brown slacks with a blue shirt open at the collar. He was wearing cordovan loafers. His curly blond hair showed some gray on the sides. He wore a small gold stud in his right ear and gold-rimmed glasses. The stud in the right ear seemed to confirm Adam’s first hunch about the two. “Amontillado it’s not,” he said in answer to the question. “Well,” the shorter man said, smiling, “the grapes for this are grown on an island in Lake Erie, and the winery itself is down in Cincinnati.” “Oh!” He couldn’t think of anything else to say, so he peered at their name tags. “Sorry,” said the more talkative one, “I’m Jake Handley, history. And this is my partner, Jim Grant, criminal justice.” “Hi.” He shook hands with each. “I’m Adam Craig, in English. Are you both new?” “No,” said Grant, “I’m the newbie. Jake’s just along for moral support.” “Oh.” He was trying to think of something intelligent to say when Jim continued, “We’ve put in our appearance. Why don’t we circulate for a few minutes, and then you come back to our place? We have beef stew in the crock pot, and I’m sure we can come up with something better to drink than the dean’s sherry.” “Man, I’d really like that! I don’t have my kitchen fully stocked yet, and I’m tired of restaurant meals. So, if you’re sure I wouldn’t be intruding…” Adam was surprised that he’d accepted the invitation with such alacrity, but he had been immediately drawn to Handley and Grant. Not only were they good looking and friendly, but he also sensed that there was no shred of phoniness about them. Academe had more than its share of poseurs, he’d always thought. “We wouldn’t have asked if we didn’t mean it, Adam,” Jake said. Even if these guys were ten years older than he was, they were both seriously sexy. Agreeing to split up, the three moved about the room, saying hello to people. Adam made eye contact with and smiled at the dean, who, faithful spouse ever at his side, was greeting a couple of super-tardy arrivals. Adam spoke again briefly with his department chair before fading into the crowd and thence to the foyer, where he met up once more with Jim and Jake. Noticing as they left the Dean’s house together that Jim Grant walked with a limp, he wondered whether it was the result of a war wound. “You can follow us, if you like,” Jake said. “If you’ll give me your address, I can use my Garmin.” “I hear those things don’t always work too well in rural areas,” Grant said. “In that case, Jimmy, why don’t you ride along with Adam? You can show him the way.” They agreed that was the best idea. Adam had expected to have to walk slowly as they went to his car, adjusting to Grant’s limp, but the taller man’s legs were considerably longer than his, and they fell into a comfortable pace. * * * * They didn’t talk much in the car, though Jim pointed out some local landmarks. The house to which they drove was a large old frame building which appeared to be in excellent condition. Set well back from the road, it looked as if it had a large addition along one side. Jake, whose car had been parked near the Dean’s house, was already there when they arrived. He opened the front door as Adam and Jim approached and stood back for them to enter. “Better let me go first,” Jim said to Adam. “I have to grab the beast.” The beast turned out to be a very happy beagle, who was wagging his whole derriere and whimpering. “Adam,” Jim said, “this is Archie. Unless you want a friend for life, you should probably ignore him.” “Oh, I can’t do that,” Adam said, stooping to pet the dog. After he and Archie spent a couple of minutes making friends, he stood. “Go to your bed, Archie,” Jim said. The dog gave him a sad look but dutifully trudged off. Soon Adam found himself ensconced in a comfortable leather-covered easy chair with a glass of bourbon on the rocks. Taking a sip, he said, “Oh, this is a damn sight better than the dean’s sherry!” Jim sat with him in the big room off the kitchen, a drink in his hand as well. After warming some crab dip in the microwave, Jake put it on a tray with a bowl of pita chips and carried it to where the others were sitting. “Adam,” Jim said, leaning forward slightly, “we wouldn’t want you to misunderstand the situation here.” He glanced at his partner and seemed to frown slightly. “We’re not coming on to you, or anything of the sort.”