I chuckled and nodded. “Exactly.” Jill was a few years my junior and taught in the business school. We’d served on a few committees and project groups together, and she was always kind and pleasant. The perfect person to chat with when I feel this good. “Do you have plans for the summer?”
“Hopefully not looking for another job. Do you know much about the rumors of departments getting cut?”
“Not much,” I conceded, though I couldn’t imagine her area—accounting—going anywhere. Mine, on the other hand . . .
“A mentor of mine at State used to work here.” She looked left and right and leaned in to speak in a low voice, as if having a mentor at one of the area’s elite universities was classified information. “He gave me the inside scoop, and I guess the president is bringing in some people and pulling together committees or something.”
Her face twisted into a grimace, and I didn’t blame her. Every time I tried to think through what it would mean to lose this job, I wanted to cower. In that moment, though, I still felt like I was floating a few inches in the air. Even talking about the rumor of cuts wasn’t quite pulling me back to Earth.
“It will be an interesting summer,” she said, shaking her head. “Davis said—”
“What?” I heard my own voice become strained, my mood plummeting to the ground. I intentionally slowed my speech. “I mean, sorry, did you say Davis?”
She may not have noticed the shift. “Davis Garner. Did you know him? I don’t think he’s ever mentioned you.”
My feet were now firmly planted, though my stomach lurched. My clothes suddenly felt too constricting and the sun’s rays too bright. I counted to three in my head, trying to dull the panic her words had inspired. She was looking at me expectantly, and I stammered out, “I knew him, yes.”
“Well, anyway, if I hear anything else, I’ll keep you posted. Talk to you later, Naya.” She flashed a bright grin before turning to head in the other direction.
“Same here, Jill.” My response was markedly less enthusiastic, but I returned her smile and waved. I hated how his name still sent me into this physical state where I wanted to jump out of my own skin and curl up in an out-of-the-way corner.
In my pocket, my phone buzzed.
Jake: What should we do tonight?
Jake: BASE jumping? Skydiving? You seem to have a thing for heights.
I tapped my fingers against the side of the phone, glancing from the screen to the direction Jill had walked. I’d allowed myself to feel excited and take risks in the last few days. It was a shift I liked, and I didn’t want to waste the opportunity.
With another deep breath, I took a step forward.
Eleven
At the reception, I silently cursed Joe, Miami, and Hurricane Beatrice. Everyone in the room outranked me by two or three pay grades. Though I’d chosen an unadorned, high-necked black dress and simple black heels, I felt like a child playing dress-up at an adult party.
The university’s upper administration huddled in small groups, sipping wine and talking in low, nervous murmurs. Two people I recognized from another campus department walked in. I didn’t particularly like Bea or Gregory, because they were consummate gossips, but I smiled as I walked toward them across the shiny hardwood floor. Play nice. Make friends.
They welcomed me into their small circle, and I learned that no one knew the reason for the impromptu event. Anxiety was plentiful as the volume in the room grew. I glanced at my watch. The thought of being near Jake again sent a pleasurable jolt through my belly, and I bit my lip to stop from grinning like I’d been doing all day. I tried to focus on the tail end of the conversation.
Bea chimed in with her nasally voice. “I should reach out to Davis Garner—he’s still so well-connected here.”
I tensed at his name, and Gregory coughed, darting his eyes in my direction. Subtle. “That’s not a bad idea,” I interjected before he started trying to talk in code, hoping that my change in mood didn’t show. Gregory’s shoulders seemed to relax, and Bea continued talking, apparently unaware of the entire exchange. Davis had worked for another university for years, but a sinking feeling made me scan the room so I could be prepared for his sneer, his cutting words, or worse. The number of times his name had come up in the last few days made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
President Lewis stepped to the microphone at the front of the room. Voices hushed as the tall, slender man looked over the group of senior faculty and staff. Flip Lewis carried himself with a squareness to his shoulders that bespoke a youthful arrogance turned to aged confidence. In his seventies, with white hair, his eyes always struck me as kind, and he smiled a lot.