“Look,” Tess said. “It’s just that—”
“It’s just that you don’t respect me enough to respect what I want,” Gina said. “I have to want what you want or it doesn’t count or it’s no good. And so does Nick and so does Park. Well, we don’t want what you want. And I don’t see why we have to. I mean, as long as we respect what you want and let you live your life, why do you care?”
“Because you’re changing,” Tess said. “I watch you when you’re with Park. You’re quieter and you don’t talk as much and you dress—”
“I dress to fit in,” Gina said. “And I’ll tell you something. I like it.”
“But you used to wear those…those…” Tess fumbled for the words. “You know, those dancer things. You were darling and avant garde and sexy. And now you look…I don’t know. Adult.”
“I dressed like a dancer because I was a dancer,” Gina said. “Now I want to be an adult so I’m dressing like one. And when Park and I are alone, I talk. We talk all the time.”
“But not in public.” Tess seized on the point. “When you’re out with Park—”
“I never have talked much in public,” Gina said. “I’d rather listen. I’ve always been that way.”
“You have? Then why haven’t I noticed?”
“Because you were always talking,” Gina said. “You talk. I don’t.”
“I still think you’re changing because of Park,” Tess said stubbornly.
“Okay, say you’re right,” Gina said. “So what?”
“Well, that’s wrong. You’ve got to be yourself.”
“I am myself. I’m just trying to be more like someone I care about. I’m adjusting. And why not? He’s adjusting to me. He came over the other night and I made canned ravioli and he liked it. And last weekend I took him to the midnight showing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show and he threw toast.”
“Park threw toast?”
“Change doesn’t have to be bad, Tess. People write books about it all the time. Only they call it ‘personal growth.”’
“I suppose,” Tess said reluctantly. “I just think I could handle your personal growth better if it wasn’t being inspired by Park.”
“Tess, I love Park.” Tess closed her eyes in pain, but Gina went on. “I know you don’t like him, but I don’t care. You don’t know him. Underneath he’s really sweet and kind and understanding, and I’ve never felt so taken care of in my life, and I want to give him the world and I’m going to, so just butt out.”
Tess swallowed everything she knew about Park and smiled. Tightly. “All right. All right. I’m happy if you’re happy.”
“Really?”
“Really,” Tess lied.
Gina sighed. “Well, then, to tell you the truth, I don’t know if I’m happy or not. Park’s wonderful, and when it’s just us, everything is great, but sooner or later I’m going to have to meet his family, and I don’t think I fit the profile of a Patterson wife.”
“Me, either,” Tess said. “But I’ve met them and I’m faking it. No reason why you can’t, too.” She shifted uncomfortably in her chair, knowing that she should be telling Gina the truth—that there was no way in hell that Park was ever going to introduce her to his family, that she was never going to have to fake it, that Park was two-timing her with a social X ray his father was already calling the mother of his grandchildren. Then she looked at Gina, serene and lovely and glowing, and she thought of Nick telling her to stay out of other people’s lives, and she stifled herself. It might still work. Maybe. Maybe Park would fall in love, find a backbone, defy his father, and marry Gina.
Fat chance.
“Look, is there anything I can do for you here?” Tess asked, desperate to help with something small since she was obviously no help to Gina at all with the big stuff.
Gina looked at her sternly. “Yeah. Don’t get Nick arrested for public indecency on a piano. It’s bad for the firm.”
“Oh, come on, Gina, it’s not that big a deal.”
“You know, you don’t have to change completely in order to stay with Nick. You just have to understand his point of view.”
“He had a very good time on that piano.”
“Forget it,” Gina said. “You’ll never understand. Maybe you’re right. Maybe you’d better move out. What with Nick trying to put you on the best-dressed list and you trying to put him in the Guinness Book of Records under Sex in the Dumbest Places, maybe you really are bad for each other.”
Tess felt a chill. “Do you think so?” She bit her lip, feeling more miserable than before.
“If you’re going to make his life hell, yes.”
“So what you’re saying is no more risky sex. What’s the point in living if you can’t take risks?”
“Work. Love. Children.”
“Sounds boring.”
“Then move out,” Gina said. “You’re just leading him on if you don’t.”
“I probably should,” Tess said. “I’ve been there almost a month now. It’s time.”
Gina nodded. “Definitely.”
“It’s not like we’re in love or planning a commitment or anything.”
Gina shook her head. “Of course not.”
“So I really should move out.”
Gina nodded. “Absolutely.”
“I don’t want to,” Tess said.
“I didn’t think you did,” Gina said.
“SO HOW IS LIVING with Tess working out?” Park asked Nick at lunch at The Levee the next day.
“Great.” Nick looked at him across the spotless linen warily. “Why do you ask?”
“Just curious,” Park seemed distracted as he talked, absentmindedly crumbling a bread roll into dust. “I suppose there’ve been a few changes at your place.”
“A few.” Nick sat back from his empty plate. “But they’re all good changes. Tess’s clothes, for example. She dresses like Annie Hall on welfare, but I’ve been having Christine buy her new things and she looks great.” He smiled, remembering how good Tess had looked in a midnight blue jersey the night before. “And the next thing that’s going is that damn navy blazer,” he added, his voice thick with satisfaction.
“She’s been sort of…odd at dinner,” Park said. “Quiet. Dignified. Is she sick?”
“No,” Nick said, patient to the end. “She’s trying to help me with my career.”
“Oh.” Park considered Nick’s comment and shrugged. “Well, it’s working. I think the only reason Welch is paying any attention to us at all is Tess. He never takes his eyes off her.”
“I know.” Nick frowned, remembering. “The old goat.”
“What?”
“I know we want the account,” Nick said. “I just don’t like him leering at Tess.”
“He’s not,” Park said.
Nick frowned again. “Sure he is. He—”
“No. I don’t know what it is he sees in Tess, but it’s not sex.”
“Oh?” Nick sat back and surveyed his friend. “And how do you know this?”
“Because he never looks at her body,” Park said. “Face it, most guys are either breast or leg men, and Tess does pretty well in both categories, but he never looks at anything but her face.” He frowned, considering. “It’s like he’s looking for something or waiting for something.”
Nick blinked. “You’re right. I hadn’t thought about it, but you’re right. What is it?”
“I don’t know,” Park said. “And I don’t care as long as it gets us the account.” He shifted in his chair and started mutilating another roll. “Did I tell you about that new paralegal I interviewed? Very hot. I think I may ask her out.”
Nick folded his arms and stared at Park with exasperation. “Park, what the hell are you doing?”
Park started and dropped his roll. “What?”
“This thing with Corinne at seven and Gina at eleven. And now a new paralegal.” Nick looked at him sternly. “This is not good.”
“How’d you know?” Park said, stunned.
/> “Tess talks to Gina,” Nick said. “Have you lost your mind?”
“Yes,” Park said glumly.
Nick rolled his eyes and leaned forward. “Park, you can’t go on like this. I don’t want to interfere, God knows I don’t, but you have to stop this.”
Park winced. “I know I have to drop Gina. I know that. It’s just she’s so happy—”
“Oh, for crying out loud.” Nick threw his napkin down on the table in disgust. “You can’t please the whole world. And I’m warning you, I can only keep Tess from blowing the whistle for so long. She wants you dead now.”
Park was appalled. “She’d tell Gina?”
“Of course she’d tell Gina,” Nick said. “Damn it, Park, let Gina down as easy as you can, but stop seeing her. What you’re doing is cruel.” He looked at his friend in puzzlement. “This isn’t like you.”
“I know,” Park said. “I know. I’ll do it. Soon. I really will. I can’t stand this much longer, anyway. It’s driving me crazy. I sit there with Corinne drinking champagne and then I go to Gina’s and it’s like I’m in a different world. Ravioli. Throwing toast. Watching a twelve-inch TV. Not what I’d expected.”
“What are you talking about?” Nick said, totally confused.
“Nothing.” Park shrugged. “Forget it. It’s over. I knew it would be. I’ve just got to tell Gina and…and…” He stopped, unhappy and disoriented, and began shredding the roll again. “Oh, hell. Forget it. Women are hell. I don’t know how you’re still sane after four weeks with Tess.”
“Sane? I’m not.” Nick relaxed against the back of his chair, glad to be off the subject of Gina. “Did you ever live with a woman you found it impossible to say no to?”
“Yes,” Park said gloomily. “My mother.”
“This is different,” Nick said. “We made love on the piano at the Opera Guild open house.”
Now Park looked confused. “Why?”
“Because it was there,” Nick said. “I don’t know why. Tess said, ‘Let’s,’ and I said, ‘No,’ and we did it.” He shook his head. “We’re going to get arrested one of these days, but it will be worth it.”
“So that’s what’s keeping you with this woman? Great sex on pianos?”
“No,” Nick said. “But it’s not hurting the situation any.”
“If she’s what you want…” Park said doubtfully.
“She’s what I want.” Nick pushed back his chair and stood up. “Enough about me. Get rid of Gina before Tess tells her what you’re doing and then dismembers you.”
“Right,” Park said. “Get rid of Gina.”
AT ELEVEN-THIRTY that night, Tess came out of the history stacks at the university library to find Nick asleep with his head on a table.
“Nick,” she said softly, shaking him. “Nick, honey, I’m sorry.”
He shook his head a little to clear it. “It’s all right. Did you find anything?”
“No,” Tess said miserably. “Not one mention of Lanny anywhere. I swear I didn’t make it up.”
“I know you didn’t.” Nick rubbed a hand over his eyes. “You ready to call it a night?”
“How do you know I didn’t?” Tess asked.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” He sounded testy as he pushed his chair away from the table. “You know I trust you. Of course you didn’t make it up.”
“Then why aren’t you going to Welch?” Tess said exasperated. “Why can’t you just talk to him about this? Why can’t you talk him out of trashing Lanny? You’re a lawyer. You can talk anybody into anything. And you know I’m never going to find that manuscript. It’s hopeless.”
Nick focused on her, slowly waking up. “You’re giving up?”
Tess collapsed into the chair next to him. “I’ve talked to people who remember Lanny and people who remember the stories, but nobody has a manuscript and nobody remembers it well enough to quote it. I’ve got nothing.” She waved her hand toward the stacks behind her. “This was my last shot. But nobody even mentions Lanny. Notes from fifty commune members and nobody mentions Lanny.”
Nick frowned. “Why not?”
“What?”
“He spent the summer there,” Nick said. “Why didn’t anybody mention him?”
“I don’t know.”
“What does this file look like?”
Tess shrugged. “It’s just a big folder full of papers.”
“It’s not bound?” Nick said. “Are the papers numbered?”
“I don’t know. It—” Tess stopped when Nick leaned back in his chair and sighed. “What?”
He stood up and pulled her to her feet. “Come on. I’m going to hate myself for this, but show me this damn file.”
Ten minutes later, Tess looked at the notes she’d made. “According to the log, four sets of papers are missing,” she said. “All from the summer of ’sixty-five. One of them was a manuscript. Somebody took them out. Why?”
“We know why,” Nick said, shoving the file box back on the shelf. “Somebody’s trying to wipe out any evidence of Lanny. What we need to know is who.”
The research librarian was furious when she found out that papers had been removed. She called up the computer file immediately, and then they watched as her fury turned to confusion. “This can’t be right,” she told them. “In the ten years that file has been there, only one other person has checked it out.”
“And that would be?” Nick prompted.
She blinked at them. “Norbert Welch. Why would he vandalize an old oral-history file?”
“I have no idea,” Nick lied, nudging Tess to keep quiet. “Thank you very much.”
“The rat,” Tess said as she followed him out of the library. “The lousy, cheating, plagiarizing, library-vandalizing rat.”
“I know,” Nick said. “I’ll talk to Park and we’ll figure what to do tomorrow.” He caught her hand and pulled her along with him toward the parking lot, overriding her next question. “I don’t know what we’re going to do yet. And right now I don’t care. I just want to go home and go to bed. I have to be in court first thing in the morning.”
Tess started to protest his dismissal of Welch and then winced as the guilt hit her. He was tired and she was nagging him. Don’t you ever pay any attention to him? Gina had asked, and here she was, totally oblivious to the fact that he had to get up early in the morning. He gave her the best of everything and she hated all of it, and now she was dragging him through libraries in the middle of the night so he could help her destroy his career.
If you had any consideration for this man, she told herself, you’d get out of his life. As a personal goal, it had very little appeal, but it was the right thing to do.
“Are you okay?” he asked when he’d walked her through the shadows of the parking lot and they were back in the car. He turned the key in the ignition, and the engine purred to life. “You’re awfully quiet.”
“I think I’d better move out,” Tess said.
“What?” Nick turned off the ignition and faced her in the gloom. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m not good for you,” Tess said miserably. “I don’t look out for you and I’m going to ruin your career and—”
“Who the hell have you been talking to?” Nick said. “I don’t need you to look out for me. I look out for me. And my career is fine. What are you talking about?”
“Yes, but suppose somebody had caught us on that piano?” Tess said. “Then where would you be?”
“Probably enshrined in the envious heart of every man in Riverbend,” Nick said. “Who started you on this?”
“I just thought that maybe you’d be better without me dragging you down into degradation every fifteen minutes.”
“I like degradation,” Nick said. “I’ve had more great sex since I discovered degradation with you than I’d ever dreamed of. Come here.” He leaned across the stick shift and cradled her cheek in his hand and kissed her, and Tess melted into him, so grateful she wasn’t losing him that she clutched at him an
d felt the swell of the muscles in his upper arm.
“I love you, Tess. Don’t go,” he whispered.
“I won’t,” she said, pressing her forehead against his. “I couldn’t. Not really. Not anymore. I love you, too.”
He kissed her again, and his mouth was hot, and every time she kissed him, she found the curve of his lips more dizzying. As she lost herself in the heat there, she let her hand trail lazily down his chest to the swell of his thigh. He drew in his breath sharply and his hand cupped her breast and she felt her breath catch, felt her blood shudder, and she wanted him, suddenly, now, any way, and she pressed against him harder, but he moved his hand away and said, “No.”
Eleven
Tess flinched and pulled away. “I know, I know, it’s the piano all over again. I’m sorry. This is exactly what I was talking about.”
She moved away, trying to stomp down the need for him that was making her shake, but Nick reached for her and said, “No, that’s not what I meant. There’s a stick shift—there’s no room.” He kissed her then, and she fell back against him, suddenly desperate again, her tongue stroking his mouth frantically, needing some kind of release before she screamed. She trailed her hand down to open his zipper, and though he moved once to stop her, she stroked her cheek down his chest, feeling the curves and the hard muscle beneath his shirt before she took him in her mouth. His hand came to rest in her curls as she traced his length with her tongue, lost in the taste and the heat and silky smoothness of him until, after a few minutes, he pulled her head up again and kissed her, searching her mouth with his tongue.
“I need you now,” she breathed, and he said, “I know.” He leaned over her and opened the glove compartment, pulled out a condom and flipped the compartment closed. His arm brushed her breast as he moved back and forth and she moaned at the touch.
“Steady,” he said, and then a moment later he slid his hand down her back under her rear end, saying “Up.”
“What?” she asked, but leaned forward, still dizzy with lust, and he maneuvered around the stick shift to slide into the passenger seat under her, pulling her hips against his from behind.
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