Believe It or Not

by Tawna Fenske

  She breathed a sigh of relief as Drew dropped the paper into the box and turned back around. His expression was still cheerful as he moved back toward her. Clearly, Jerry’s application wasn’t as significant in his mind as it was in Violet’s.

  Why would it be? she asked herself. He has no reason yet to think you’re a traitor.

  “So I’ll see you tonight?” Drew said.

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  He kissed her again, more softly this time, and then turned and walked away. Violet could hear him whistling as he disappeared down the hall. She caught herself trying to pick out the tune, wondering what message she could take from his song choice.

  “No,” she said out loud, and forced herself to start humming to drown out the sound of Drew’s whistle. If his song choice was going to make her feel guiltier than she already did, she didn’t want to hear it.

  She was still humming two minutes later when the door banged open again and Frank stomped through the door and glared at her.

  “‘Bitch,’ right?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I hate that song you’re humming, the one called ‘Bitch.’ My ex-wife used to play that all the time. It fucking figures.”

  Violet folded her arms over her chest and glared at him. “Good to see you again, too.”

  Frank stalked toward her and stopped three feet away, scratching his neck as he walked. “Why haven’t you fucking talked to Jed yet?”

  “Because fucking Jed hasn’t fucking called yet,” Violet shot back, trying to sound tough but instead sounding like a middle schooler.

  “Listen, dammit. If you don’t make this happen—”

  “How exactly do you expect me to make this happen? What do you want me to do, call the guy and offer a free psychic reading?”

  Frank snapped his fingers. “Exactly. That’s a great idea.”

  “Don’t be a moron. If I call to offer my services, don’t you think it’s going to make him just a little suspicious that I’ve got an agenda?”

  “You do have an agenda. Your agenda is to make sure I don’t ruin you and your crackpot mother.”

  Violet took a step forward and narrowed her eyes at him. “The only person who calls my mother a crackpot is me,” she snapped. “And if you really think there’s any way I can call this asshole without tipping him off to your ridiculous plan, you’re dumber than I thought you were.”

  Frank’s eyes flashed with fury, and for a second, Violet felt a zap of fear that she’d overstepped.

  Then he laughed, a completely joyless sound that made Violet’s skin crawl. “I like you. You’re a lot like me, you know?”

  “I’m nothing like you,” she hissed.

  “Yes you are. Totally without ethics, as long as you don’t get caught. Tell you what. I’m supposed to bang Jed’s wife again tonight while he’s busy in some meeting. Let me see what I can do to hurry things along, okay?”

  “I don’t want anything to do with this.”

  “You should have thought of that before you went shooting your mouth off to my squash partner.”

  “Your ex–squash partner,” Violet snarled. “I saw in the paper the other day that she just won some tournament with a new partner. Good for her.”

  “You really think I give a shit? If I close this deal, I’ll make more in a single day than I would have made in a year of hitting that stupid little ball around.”

  As if the very mention of balls caused him to remember the snail penis on his neck, Frank reached up and scratched himself again. Then he pointed a finger at her, prompting Violet to take a step back.

  “You’re going to make sure this happens, you understand me? Unless you want Miss Moonbeam to end up out on the streets, you’ll tell Jed Buckles what he needs to hear.”

  “Get out.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “Get out!” Violet screamed. “Get out, get out, get out!”

  The hall door burst open and Drew stormed into the room, eyes blazing. He looked at Violet, then Frank, then back at Violet.

  He moved closer to Violet, his arm snaking protectively closer to her. “Are you okay? I heard you scream. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong,” Frank snapped. “We were just having a friendly discussion, weren’t we, Violet?”

  Violet looked at Frank and blinked. “No we weren’t.”

  Then she looked at Drew, taking in the concern etched on his face, the fact that he was here protecting her, looking out for her.

  She owed him the same, didn’t she?

  She took a deep breath.

  “Drew, I have to tell you something.”

  Chapter 20

  In Drew’s experience, no good news ever began with, “I have to tell you something.”

  That, coupled with the worried look on Violet’s face, sent a shot of fear through his body.

  “What’s going on?” he asked, trying to keep his voice even. “Is there a problem?”

  “Moonbeam’s late with the rent,” Frank blurted. “In fact, she’s in great danger of losing her business. Isn’t that right, Violet?”

  Violet turned and looked at Frank, her eyes blazing with hot, purple rage. Drew hoped she never had a reason to look at him that way.

  “No, Frank,” Violet snapped. “Moonbeam is perfectly current on her rent. I just gave you the check last week.”

  “I’m warning you, Violet,” Frank snarled, giving her a dangerous look.

  Violet turned back to Drew, her hands shaking a little as she reached out and squeezed one of his. “Our landlord here has been trying to blackmail me.”

  Drew frowned. “What?”

  “He told me that if I didn’t give a fake psychic reading to an investor and convince the guy to buy some overpriced piece of property, he was going to try to ruin Moonbeam’s business.”

  Drew looked at Frank, watching as the older man’s face went from pink to crimson in less than ten seconds. Drew stared, wondering what color might come next.

  “It’s not that hard to ruin this business with the truth,” Frank snapped. “It’s pretty fucking easy. I just have to tell everyone the sort of fake, crackpot bullshit you’re doing here.”

  “Take it easy, Frank,” Drew said. “You look like you’re going to pass out.”

  “Go to hell,” Frank snapped. “You think I can’t do this? Moonbeam’s been my tenant for years. The stories I can tell—”

  “Shut up, Frank,” Violet hissed. “No one cares what you have to say.”

  Frank sneered at her. “Plenty of people care what I have to say. Did I mention that in addition to owning a shit pile of real estate around here, I also own a newspaper? It’s a little alternative weekly, but the circulation includes five hundred thousand of exactly the sort of hippie, new age, alternative loonies you people target. You didn’t know that, did you?”

  Violet just glared at him, her hands balled into fists at her side. She was breathing hard in a way that might have made Drew want to ogle her breasts if he weren’t focused on making sure she didn’t kill the landlord.

  Frank was still talking, oblivious to the threat Violet posed to his life. “My reporters love this sort of investigative myth-buster crap. Besides the paper, I also know a guy on the production crew at that TV show that goes out and debunks all those phony things like ghosts and psychics and shit like that. One phone call from me and—”

  “Listen, asshole,” Violet said, taking a step closer to Frank.

  Drew shouldered his way between them, holding Violet back. “Frank, I think it’s time for you to leave,” he said as calmly as he could manage. “This is enough. If Violet doesn’t already have an attorney, I’m quite happy to recommend one to her who will be delighted to nail your ass.”

  Frank just laughed, his voice sinister and hoarse. “I get it now. You guys are fucking. This is great—Drew’s gonna sic his ex-wife on me on behalf of his new bimbo. Let me clue you in here, buddy. Since your girlfriend seems intent on screwing up this real-e
state deal, I’ll have no choice but to sell this guy a different piece of property for his goddamn vegan restaurant. This piece of property, to be precise.”

  Drew stared at him, slowly processing the threat. Behind him, Violet was practically vibrating with fury.

  Frank sneered again, pleased to have rattled them both. “You catch my drift, Drew? Moonbeam’s not the only one who’ll be out on her ass here. So will you. And it’s all because your girlfriend, the fake psychic, wants to pretend to be all self-righteous. She’s a crook, and if you don’t know that, you’re dumber than you look.”

  Drew glared at him, feeling a hatred he hadn’t felt for another human since a customer made Jamie cry by saying he had fat thighs.

  To hell with civil discourse. Drew reached out to grab the little fuck around the throat.

  “Drew, no,” Violet said, and stepped in front of him. “Let it go. Just let it go. Violence isn’t the answer.”

  “It is to some questions.”

  “Please,” Violet said, touching his shoulder.

  Drew took a step back, willing to do pretty much anything for Violet, when she asked like that.

  Frank sneered at him. “I’d wipe the floor with you, pansy.”

  “Nice action-hero line,” Drew said with a sharp laugh. “It might have more punch if your fly weren’t down.”

  Frank shot a startled look down at his crotch and began yanking at his zipper.

  Violet raised her eyebrows. “Give my apologies to your wife. How disappointing that must be for her.”

  Frank’s eyes snapped up at her. “You little bitch,” he said, and grabbed her arm so hard her whole body jerked.

  Violet cried out.

  Drew didn’t even think. He grabbed Frank’s wrist and yanked up, rewarded by Frank’s yelp of pain as he released Violet.

  “You motherfucker!” Frank screamed. “That’s it. I’m calling the cops. You’ll be hearing from my lawyer.”

  “Phone’s right over there,” Drew said calmly as he dropped Frank’s wrist. “Go ahead, I’d like to talk to them too, while you’re at it.”

  Frank was still cursing and frothing, clutching his wrist as he backed toward the door with a little vein flickering on the side of his temple. “You will regret this,” Frank hissed. “I can guarantee it.”

  “Have a great day, Frank,” Drew called after him. “We’ll have to do this again sometime.”

  When Frank was gone, Drew turned to Violet. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded numbly, looking up at him with wide eyes. She didn’t say anything at first. Drew reached for her.

  “Let me take a look at your arm,” he said. “Does it hurt?”

  Violet allowed him to peel up her shirtsleeve to expose her forearm. Drew felt the anger well up again as he studied the angry red marks on her soft flesh.

  “I should have done more than yank his arm,” Drew muttered.

  “It’s okay. It really doesn’t hurt.”

  “Maybe you should have it checked out. I can drive you to the hospital.”

  “I’m okay, really,” she said, and drew her arm back. “I’m so sorry, Drew.”

  “For what?”

  “For that. What happened with Frank.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “It is my fault. Now we’re both going to lose the building.”

  Drew tried not to look bothered by that, even though Frank’s words hadn’t stopped ricocheting through his brain for the last five minutes. “I’m sure it’ll all work out,” he told her. “I’ll talk to my attorney—not my ex-wife, by the way. And you and I can both talk to the cops. Frank won’t get away with this. Right now I think someone should look at your arm. He grabbed you pretty hard.”

  “The marks are already fading,” she said with a sniffle as she looked up at him. “But if we lose the building—”

  “We’ll deal with it.”

  Violet shook her head sadly.

  “If someone wants to buy this place and kick us out, there’s nothing we can do about it. Even if Frank is a prick—”

  “Quit it,” Drew said, cupping her chin in his hand. “This isn’t your fault, okay? I’m going to call the cops now, to let them know what happened. Can I use your phone, or you want me to go next door?”

  “Here is fine. But really, I don’t think—”

  “Look, he threatened you, okay? He hurt you. We can’t let him get away with that.”

  “But he’ll ruin the business. Both the businesses—yours and Moonbeam’s. You heard him.”

  Drew tried hard not to grimace. He couldn’t consider that right now. Couldn’t think about what would happen if he had to close down and relocate. Jesus, was that even possible? He had the best location in town. He’d already lost a lot of money on the billboard campaign he’d had to dismantle with Jamie leaving. Cash was tight. Having to move, to start over, to pay to remodel some new space—

  Don’t think about it.

  Drew cleared his throat. “Whatever Frank’s planning to do, he’s going to do it whether we call the cops or not. At least this way we’ll have our version of the story on record.”

  Violet nodded a little sadly as Drew picked up her phone and dialed. He spent ten minutes talking with a bored-sounding police dispatcher, explaining the situation and giving directions to the shop.

  By the time he hung up, Violet was sitting in one of the big red velvet chairs in the corner, looking very tired. Drew walked over to join her, easing himself into the other chair.

  “They’ll be here in a minute,” he told her. “You need anything before that? Ice for your arm? Voodoo doll?”

  Violet shook her head. “It’s okay, really. It’s not even red anymore. I think you hurt him a lot worse than he hurt me.”

  “Good.”

  Violet looked at him. “So much for staying out of each other’s business, huh?”

  “Yeah, this wasn’t really the plan.”

  “What are you going to do? If we lose the building, that is.”

  Drew shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not sure I could afford to relocate, and even if I did, I don’t know that the customers would follow. Probably the same for you guys here.”

  He didn’t add that it was probably a hell of a lot easier for a psychic studio to relocate than it would be for him. Jesus, the stages, the lighting, the sound system, the custom-designed bar… Sure, he could move some of it, but not everything belonged to him. There was no way he could afford to do it all again.

  Violet sighed. “Well, if we’re going down, I guess at least we’re going down together.”

  Drew grinned, pleased with the opportunity for a subject change. “Speaking of going down…”

  “You’re not honestly thinking of sex right now?” She was smiling, relaxing a little. That was good.

  “I’m thinking of sex anytime you’re in the room,” he said. “Most of the time you’re not in the room, for that matter.”

  Violet flushed and looked down at her lap. When she looked back up at him, there was something else in her eyes. Something besides desire.

  “Drew, I need to tell you—”

  The front door banged open and a uniformed police officer came striding in.

  Violet stood up, looking oddly relieved. Whatever she’d been about to say was forgotten for the moment. Drew watched as she moved toward the door in her tight black jeans, her hips curving in silhouette against the light from the front window. He glimpsed the outline of her right breast as she lifted her arm to extend a handshake to the young cop, who looked as dazzled by her as Drew did.

  “Hello, officer,” Violet said. “It’s good to see you.”

  ***

  Violet couldn’t believe her luck. She’d been so sure she’d see Detective Smeade striding through that door, that he would be the one to respond to the call.

  That was the way fate worked, wasn’t it?

  She had already begun to rehearse what she’d say to Drew when Detective Smeade began praising her psychic pro
wess, thanking her for leading them to Jerry.

  But then that smiling young officer walked through the door, and Violet had to believe fate was cutting her a break.

  Okay, so she should have told Drew about the thing with Jerry. She’d thought about it, she really had. Right after the blowout with Frank, after everything had gone so wrong, it seemed like she had nothing to lose.

  After all, he’d handled the Frank thing okay, hadn’t he? Violet stole a glance at Drew, watching his face as he answered the officer’s questions. He seemed protective of her, not angry with her. At least on the surface. But maybe when he digested the information, realized she held some responsibility for the fact that they might all lose the building—

  Okay, so she’d hold her tongue on the Jerry thing for now, hold onto her biggest secret.

  Well, maybe not her biggest secret. There was the music thing, after all.

  Violet sighed and watched as Drew and the officer began pacing off a spot in the reception area, discussing the sequence of events in the fight.

  Hell, maybe she should just come clean about all of it. Tell Drew about Jerry, about the music, about how she’d been considering giving in to Frank’s blackmail.

  After what had happened between them, she owed him a little honesty, didn’t she?

  She tried to tune out her angst-fueled inner dialogue and concentrate on the fact that the officer was now turning his attention to her.

  “So when did the landlord first threaten you?” he asked.

  Violet thought about it. “I guess it would have been Friday.”

  She saw Drew’s eyebrows rise. “Three days ago?”

  Violet bit her lip. “Yes. Why?”

  He shrugged. “Just surprised you didn’t mention it earlier, that’s all.”

  She nodded, trying to come up with something to say to that. “I was worried about the business.”

  Drew looked at her. “Just your mother’s business?”

  “What?”

  “Because if I’m understanding Frank’s threat, mine is in jeopardy, too. The whole building, right?”

  “Right.” She couldn’t really think of anything else to say, and the officer was looking at her funny, so Violet turned her attention back to him.