Everyone moved into position.
“Remember,” I cautioned, “lift with your legs, not your back.” I waited for them to nod and then said, “Here we go. One, two, three, up!”
The girls strained, and I crossed mental fingers. The statue represented hundreds of hours of work and was practically irreplaceable. We shuffled sideways. Zoah was already kneeling, and he steadied the dolly.
“Ready? Use your legs,” I said. “Three, two, one, down.”
We set the thick base on the sturdy wooden frame of the dolly. It creaked but held, and we rolled it to the side of the room. We repeated the operation two more times and exchanged high-fives when all three were covered and ready.
“That was half a ton. Good job.” I glanced at my watch and added to Christy, “We’d better get going.”
She frowned.
“Dance class?” I reminded her. “And we have the team party after?”
“Oh my gosh, I completely forgot! I can’t. I still need to get the studies and maquettes ready for the show.”
“We’ll help,” Zoah said.
“Yeah, of course,” Nikki agreed.
“You go on, Paul,” Christy said.
“No, I’ll skip it.”
She shook her head. “One of us should go. Tell Terri I’m sorry I missed it.”
* * *
Dance class was the last class of the quarter for most of us and the last class forever for some. Wren and Trip skipped it. Only a handful of others showed up, and Terri dismissed them after an extra-credit quiz with a single question, “What’s your favorite dance?”
She collected the papers, told us what to expect on the final exam, and then talked to a couple of students who lingered. They eventually left, and she slid into the desk next to mine.
“What about you?” she said. “What’s your favorite?”
“Anything with you.”
“Did you really write that?”
“I thought about it,” I admitted. “But I put the tango instead. In case anyone saw.”
“Thank you.” She sighed and rested her head on her hand. “Sometimes I think everyone can see how I feel.”
“They can’t. But I can. I… feel the same.”
“For all the good it does.” She sat up and tried to adjust her attitude. “Where’s Christy? Is she all right?”
“Yeah. Working on her project. Getting ready for the party tomorrow.”
“Oh, that’s right! Do you still want me to come?”
“Do you want to?”
“If you want me to.”
“I’d like to see you.”
“Waiting in the wings?” she said, wry and a little bitter. “In case the principal gets hurt? Sorry, that wasn’t fair.”
“You know it’s more complicated than that.”
“Not really.” She changed the subject, “What should I wear? Is it formal? Black tie?”
“Not black tie, but formal.”
“Evening dress?”
I nodded.
“I have the perfect one. You can see what you’re missing.”
I considered her for a moment. “Is there a reason you’re flirting with me? I thought…”
“No, we aren’t going to do anything. You’re still my student. And about to leave for the summer. But… who knows.” She left the rest up to my imagination. “Come on,” she said after a moment, “let’s move the desks. We have a half-hour before people start showing up.”
“A lot can happen in thirty minutes.”
“Only thirty minutes?” she laughed. “You’re supposed to rock my world.”
I blinked in surprise.
“Besides,” she continued, “I’m talking about dancing. The tango, your favorite.”
“Foreplay, you mean?”
“Only if it leads to something.”
“Which it won’t?”
She laughed. “You’re good, but not that good.”
* * *
The Art Department’s Spring Gala and Exhibition was more or less a repeat of the fall show. The best young artists exhibited their work for the University’s bigwigs, trustees, and a select group of professors and fellow students.
Unlike the fall show, this one was invitation-only, so they were free to serve alcohol in the open. Waiters roamed the atrium with trays of champagne and canapés. They even had a full bar, all on the University’s tab. I flirted with the idea of ordering a Big Orange Screw but decided to keep my frustration to myself. I had better things to do with my time and energy.
Case in point, Christy, who looked stunning in a floor-length pink silk Valentino evening dress. I hadn’t seen it before and didn’t even want to guess at how much it had cost. Her parents could afford it, but I wondered if I could. Worse, I didn’t have grounds to complain. My own outfit, a dark blue double-breasted Hugo Boss, had cost a small fortune.
Trip and Wren arrived a few minutes before the gala officially started. They looked nice in a suit and evening dress, but their faces showed exhaustion more than excitement. The past month had taken its toll.
Nikki appeared in a man’s three-piece suit and with her hair shellacked into a spiky mohawk. She arched a pierced eyebrow and dared me to object, but she looked good. She was actually quite pretty, in a “touch me and die” sort of way.
“The patriarchy approves,” I said.
“The patriarchy can get bent.”
“You think that’d help?” I asked wryly.
“Couldn’t hurt.”
“You might be right.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m’a go find a drink. You want anything?”
“No, thanks. I’m good.”
Lily brought a date, which wasn’t entirely a surprise. He was her age and slightly uncomfortable in a double knit polyester suit, although he seemed like a nice enough guy. Lily herself wore a green satin prom dress. She and her date didn’t seem out of place, but they couldn’t match the sophistication of the older crowd.
Speaking of which…
Terri entered through the campus-side doors. She wore a black halter dress with a thigh-high slit and a plunging neckline. It was simple and elegant, and it hugged her petite curves. It also showed off her chest, which turned heads immediately. She ignored them and scanned the room until she spotted us, although her expression froze when she saw that we were talking to Lily.
“…wait till you see what she made,” she was saying to her date.
“Well,” Christy said smoothly, “we won’t unveil them until later. But I can show you around.” She touched my arm and nodded toward Terri. “Paul, dear, will you…?”
“Of course.”
They moved off, and I headed toward Terri. Her eyes tracked Lily for a moment before they slid to me. The warmth returned to her expression, and she smiled for real.
“You look nice,” I said.
Her dark eyes glittered playfully. “Only ‘nice’?”
“Okay, how about awesome? Beautiful? Gorgeous? Spectacular? Stop me when you hear something you like.” I paused to give her a chance to answer, but she merely grinned.
“I like them all,” she said at last. “Keep going.”
I smiled and bent to kiss her hand. “You look lovely.”
“Thank you. And you look very handsome.” She moistened her lips, ran her eyes down my pink tie, and then smirked. “It reminds me of something.”
My eyebrows nearly hit the roof, forty feet above.
She laughed. “Sorry, I shouldn’t say things like that.”
“Not unless you plan to do something about it.”
“We can’t,” she said.
“Well, not now.”
“Who knows,” she said enigmatically.
“Let me get you a drink.” I flagged down a passing waiter and lifted a glass from his tray. I thanked him, and he moved on.
Terri accepted the champagne but frowned. “I thought it’s a dry campus.”
“The normal rules don’t apply to VIPs.”
“You and me?”
“Ha! No, those guys.” I nodded discreetly.
“I don’t recognize them.”
“Jack Reese, the Chancellor of the University, and a guy named Haslam, a local businessman who’s on the Board of Trustees. And you see that guy? The Dean of Admissions. The one over there is the Dean of the College of Liberal Arts. He’s talking to Siobhan O’Riordan, Christy’s professor, and a guy from the National Endowment for the Arts.”