Page 64 of Paging Dr. Hart
Johnny isn’t the only shark at this party tonight. Apparently, I’m a minnow swimming in a sea of them.
“I was going to be here later, anyway. Better to come early so I can keep an eye on you.” His voice is low and husky, sending a thrill through me. Rafe slides closer to me on the bed. His proximity sparks a fire that burns quickly through my body. He runs a finger lightly down my bare arm. Goosebumps rise, marking the trail of his touch. His eyes glitter like diamonds in the moonlight that shines through the window. I shiver, hot and cold all at once.
“How do I look? Like I fit in? Like I belong?” he asks like it’s a game of truth or dare and I picked truth.
I take in his black tuxedo jacket and note the way it hugs the muscles of his shoulders and upper arms. Shelly was right. He must be working out more, or maybe he’s growing. I forget we’re still young sometimes. He graduated last year, so he must be what? Nineteen now? I recently turned 18. Both of us are old enough to be tried as adults if we get caught, a most terrifying thought.
“You look so…different,” I answer honestly. “I’ve never seen you like this before.”
Rafe’s finger stops its caress, its owner displeased by my response. “Yeah, well, gotta fit in. You know, a wolf in sheep’s clothing, isn’t that what they say?” He stands up from the bed and moves to gaze out the window, his stiff back to me.
I’ve hurt his feelings somehow, but I’m not sure what he wanted to hear. Struggling to regain his attention, I say, “You look nice, very handsome.” It doesn’t matter now. The moment is gone. His eyes are shuttered when he walks back from the window. Whatever light had glowed in them a moment ago has been snuffed out.
“Do you have it?” Rafe asks flatly.
Flushed, feeling rejected, I dig Stewart’s keycard out of my pocket and hand it over. Faster than my eyes can follow, he makes it disappear.
“Better get back out there before he misses you.” Rafe doesn’t bother to say who “he” is. We both know. I go to the door and twist the knob. As I peer out to make sure the coast is clear, he whispers in my ear, “Stick to the plan.” My body involuntarily shudders at the feeling of his warm breath on the back of my neck. He moves quietly, a cat on soft fur paws. I hadn’t realized he was so close. Rafe’s burning hand is on the small of my back as he gently pushes me out into the hallway. The soft click of the door tells me that he’s closed it, locking himself in the room, away from me.
53
Ireturn to the party. The crowd’s mood has shifted while I was gone. The music is louder now. The string instruments have been replaced by a headphone-wearing DJ who bops to the beat as he works the turntables. Guests surge and vibrate on a dance floor, pressed up against the wall of windows.
With Rafe’s words echoing in my mind, I notice details that had previously escaped me. Partygoers are sprawled across plush couches, their limbs akimbo and eyes dilated. There is a layer of debauchery here, buried beneath the elegant surface.
Stewart’s waiting where I left him. “I thought you’d gotten lost,” he jokes and hands me back my half-drunk glass of champagne.
“Just fixing my makeup.” I take a sip of my bubbly drink, letting the alcohol warm me. It’s scary how easily the lies come, but then again, I’ve had lots of practice over the last few months lying to my mom and Mr. Chen. Telling them I’m out studying when I’m actually taking photos on the Strip. Hiding wads of cash in my school backpack until I can deposit it in the bank.
Pointing toward the dance floor, Stewart asks, “Do you want to dance?”
Dancing is one of my least favorite activities. I’m all awkward elbows and knees, never quite sure what to do with my hands. The only dancing I’ve ever enjoyed was in the isolation of Shelly’s room when we were young and would dance wildly to the latest boy-band hit.
“No, thanks. I’m a terrible dancer.”
Stewart lets out a puff of air. “Thank goodness. I loathe dancing. I’m not sure why I asked. I didn’t want you to feel like you’re missing out on anything tonight because of me.”
He’s kind, this man. I wish for a moment that he wasn’t. It makes me more of a monster.
“I don’t think that,” I reassure him.
As I gaze around the room, I notice expensive-looking paintings and statues placed in alcoves along the walls. Artfully placed lighting highlights each one. “Those are gorgeous pieces of art. Does your dad collect them?” I move closer to examine a painting of yellow and orange poppy flowers in a brown vase. It almost looks like a Van Gogh.
“He does but not because he appreciates their beauty. He sees them as another way to diversify his portfolio.”
I sense this is a point of contention between Stewart and his father. “How doyousee them?”
After a moment of thought, he says, “When I look at my father’s artwork, I think of the men and women who made it. How talented they must have been. I always wonder if it was hard for them. To make something so beautiful, to pour their heart and soul into it, only to have to sell it away. Hand it off to someone who might not value it the same way they did.” A side glance at me, as he adds, “It must be hard to lose something you love.”
How he says love makes me uncomfortable. There’s too much weight on that word. My eyes scan the room, on the lookout for Rafe or Shelly. I see neither one.
“You didn’t mention that you’re Johnny Stralla’s son when we first met,” I blurt, trying not to sound accusatory, but I’ve been wondering why he never brought it up.
“It’s not something I usually talk about. Too many friends have avoided me after they found out, scared to be associated with my family. I didn’t want that to happen with you,” he confesses. “Besides, most people never know. I’m nothing like my dad. I don’t look like him, and I don’t act like him.”
Pity stirs in me, as I think of the people who have rejected Stewart based only on his last name. Guilt follows. How am I any better? I’m using Stewart for his last name at this very second.
I spot Rafe and Shelly with their heads close together, whispering in the hallway that leads to the office and the safe. I glance away, fearful Stewart will follow my gaze and recognize my friends. Shelly disappears, while Rafetakes up his position as a look-out, using his newly bulked-up body to block the hallway entrance.
