Dealing in Deception

by Samantha Joyce

  A single tear rolled down her cheek. “I know, Baxie, I know. I hate myself for it. I want to go back in time and tell myself to stop being stupid. I should’ve known back then I’d never find anything better.” She leaned in close. “There is no one better than you. I understand that now.”

  “Clare—”

  “I want you back,” she whispered. “We were so good together. Let’s get married like we were supposed to, and have adorable babies and get a house in the suburbs. Please say you’ll take me back.”

  She pressed her lips onto mine and I leaned back, pushing her shoulders. “Whoa, Clare. Are you here just because you saw I got a huge amount of money for my business?”

  “No, Baxie, no.” She swung a leg over my thighs so she straddled me. “I’m here because I never stopped loving you. We belong together. We knew that back in high school. Everyone knew it. Take me back. I promise I’ll never leave you again.”

  Over her shoulder, the image of Veronica and the lead singer of the Screeching Assfarts glowed. Hurt and anger rose up and I gripped Clare’s jaw, meeting her songbird-blue eyes.

  “You swear it, Clare? That you’re in it for good?”

  “Forever, darling. I want you and only you.”

  I kissed her hard, sending the year of pain she’d caused into her mouth. She gasped against the pressure, then settled. Kissing Clare felt natural, like pulling on my favorite sweatshirt. I’d done it thousands of times. Our mouths fit together without protest, and we swirled tongues at the same moment, as though it were choreographed.

  Yet my stomach didn’t ache with hunger like it had when I’d kissed Veronica. I deepened the kiss, wrapping her hair around my hand, probing further, desperately seeking the thing that was missing.

  “Oh, Baxter,” Clare panted between kisses. “I’ve missed you. Let me show you just how much.”

  She undid the buttons of her coat and dropped it to the floor.

  She wore absolutely nothing underneath. No wonder she’d been cold.

  Reaching for my pants, she kissed my neck and sucked on my earlobe, her warm breath pulsing against my skin. I waited for the familiar desire to overtake me, the need to devour her. It never came. Clare was beautiful, and she was definitely tempting without her clothes on, but she wasn’t Veronica.

  I gripped Clare’s hips with the intention of removing her from my lap. “Clare—”

  “You are like all of them.”

  Veronica’s voice from the doorway made me jump, and Clare fell to the ground, landing on her coat with a surprised yelp. She screeched and wrapped her coat around herself.

  “Veronica!” I flew off the couch, but she was already halfway down the hall. “Wait. Stop, please.”

  I followed Veronica out the door, not bothering to bundle up. The air was thick with moisture. It was going to snow again. I wrapped my arms around myself as the breeze knifed through my T-shirt. “Please, let me explain. That was Clare and—”

  Veronica whirled on me. “Oh, that was the fiancée. Well, at least it wasn’t some random bimbo. Still, I expected more from you than finding a naked woman straddling you when all I’d asked for was time.”

  “Time, Veronica? Time to what? Fuck the nearest rock star you could find?”

  She froze. “You saw.”

  “Of course I saw. It’s all over the fucking Internet. You went back to his hotel room, too?”

  “I did, but nothing happened. I came to tell you that. I came to explain.”

  “So, explain.” My teeth chattered from cold and anger.

  She turned and a tear dribbled from the corner of her eye. She wiped it with her sleeve before it had the chance to freeze on her cheek. “No, Baxter. I don’t owe you any explanations. Not after what I just saw. You swore you were different, but you’re not. You used me until the real person you wanted to be with came back. Story of my life. Congratulations, I’m one more conquest you can reminisce about as you and Blondie laugh with your grandkids about those you trampled on in the past.”

  “Nothing happened with Clare. We—”

  “Forget it.” She straightened her shoulders. “You got what you needed from me and a little extra, is all. I have your money and you have your deal. Our business transaction has concluded. Have a nice life.” She opened the driver’s door of her car.

  “Business transaction?” Her words chilled me more than the winter air. “Is that what we’re calling this now?”

  “That’s all it ever was, Baxter.”

  I slapped the hood of her car and pain shot up my arm. “It wasn’t, and you damn well know it.”

  “Do I?” Her voice shook. “We were never meant to be more than partners, Bax. We don’t make sense as more than that. You and Clare make sense. I thought . . .”

  I touched her shoulder. “Thought what?”

  “Nothing.” She wrenched from me and got into the car. “Whatever it was, it was wrong.”

  “Veronica, don’t go. Let’s talk about this.”

  “There’s nothing left to talk about, Hero. You’ve obviously made your choice. Congratulations on getting your life back. I hope it’s all you dreamed of.”

  Veronica slammed the door and started the car.

  “No!” I shouted at the closed window. “You don’t just get to drive away like this meant nothing.” I swallowed. “I love you, Veronica.”

  If she heard me, she didn’t show it. I jumped back as her tires squealed and she took off down the street, weaving against the ice.

  “Fuck!” I clawed at my hair, pulling it away from my head.

  “Bax?” Clare appeared beside me, her coat back on and one of my hoodies in her hand. She wrapped the sweatshirt around my shaking shoulders. “You’ll freeze to death out here. Come inside. I’ll make you tea. We can talk.”

  Numbly, I followed her into the house and closed the door behind me. I sat in one of the wooden kitchen chairs as Clare banged open cupboard after cupboard.

  “Seriously, Baxie, you don’t have tea?”

  “Why would I? You were the only one who drank it, and you’ve been gone for a fucking year.”

  Her shoulders stiffened. “Okay, so instant coffee it is.” She sniffed the metal tin. “If you can even call this stuff coffee.”

  I remained quiet as Clare puttered around the kitchen, putting on the kettle and pouring the water once it boiled. After she’d set the steaming mug in front of me, she took the other seat.

  “So, who was she?”

  “What?”

  “The woman who walked in on us just now. She’s the same one from the picture on your computer. And you two got pretty heated out there.”

  I took a sip of coffee, grimacing as grounds lingered on my tongue. I pushed the mug away. “She was someone I thought was special, but it turns out I was wrong. I seem to have a habit of doing that.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Clare covered my hand with hers. “I really am sorry I hurt you so bad, and I’m sorry she did, too. But which one of us is here with you now?” She trailed her fingers up my arm and I snatched my hand back.

  “Really, Clare? You’re still at this? Me shoving you onto the floor wasn’t a big enough hint?”

  “Baxie.” She pouted. “I know you don’t mean that. That wasn’t the kiss of someone who wanted me to stop.”

  “No, it was the kiss of someone who wished you were someone else.” Her doe eyes widened like I’d shone a spotlight over her face. “I’m not stupid, Clare. You show up after my huge deal is announced, throwing yourself at me. If you’d have done that six months ago, I might not have cared that it’s about the money. I missed you that much. But now I know there’s someone better out there, Clare.”

  Her throat squeaked and tears filled her eyes, but everything I’d held in for a year came tumbling out.

  “I don’t blame you for leaving. We’d become boring and
flat; our love was a routine we followed. We kissed because we were supposed to, we got a dog because we were supposed to. Hell, we even fucked because we were supposed to. We’d lost the passion a long time before you left, and it didn’t come back today. Maybe if you’d have stuck around, we could’ve tried to strengthen the walls again, to get our foundation back to its former glory. But it’s too late now. Sorry, Clare. There’s nothing left of us to rebuild. You should go.”

  She looked up at me, her eyes filled with tears. “Is that really what you want?”

  I trained my gaze on the table, avoiding her eyes. I couldn’t handle the guilt of making two women cry in one day. “It is.”

  “Okay, fine. But I think you’re making a mistake.” She stood, her chair scraping against the floor with a screech. “Good-bye, Baxter. And good luck.”

  “’Bye, Clare.”

  I studied my coffee cup far too intensely as she got up from the table. She went down the hall, her steps light and quick, her breath heavy with sobs. I didn’t look up until the door clicked shut. Ari gave a bark from the corner of the kitchen.

  “That’s right, bud,” I said. “Looks like it’s just you and me from now on.”

  • • •

  Scott showed up a few hours later, black bruises lining his jaw and a six-pack in his hand. “A peace offering,” he said. In his other hand, he carried a takeout bag from the Chinese place down the street.

  “You can come in,” I said. “But only because I was about to eat mayonnaise for dinner.”

  We settled in the kitchen, littering the table with boxes of chicken balls, fried rice, and garlic beef with broccoli. I popped open a cold beer and sucked half of it down before grabbing chopsticks and digging into the food. Scott bit into a chicken ball doused in sweet-and-sour sauce and grimaced.

  “Damn, Bax.” He rubbed his jaw. “You throw a mean punch.”

  “Really? To be honest, I had never punched anyone till the other night.”

  “I had it coming.” Scott took a swig of his beer. “I shouldn’t have said those things, dude. Ally was freaking out about Rachel—Veronica—being there. I was worried she’d catch on and call off the wedding. But I never meant to take it that far.”

  “You should just be honest with Allison, Scott. Isn’t honesty the foundation of marriage or some shit like that?” I polished off my beer and grabbed a second one.

  “I was. After you coldcocked me, I blurted everything to her; all about Veronica’s business and how I hired her, then referred her to you.”

  I swallowed a large chunk of broccoli. “And?”

  “And she was mad at first, because she’d been deceived. But I think she was actually kind of relieved I never slept with Veronica. I mean, I love Ally, but that Veronica girl is a lot to try to live up to.”

  The memory of Veronica on her kitchen counter half-covered in a purple negligee planted itself in my head. “You’re telling me.”

  “And then she got pretty pissed at me because of what I’d said to you about Veronica. In fact . . . she told me you were right about Frank. Apparently, she rode the elevator with him one day when he came to visit me, and he hit on her. Grabbed her ass and everything. She never told me because he’s an important client. But he’s not more important than my fiancée. I ditched him this morning. And I might’ve spread the word to others in the biz he’s a grade-A jackass. The next accountant he’s able to get will probably be in the Cayman Islands.”

  “Good.” I plunked my beer against his and took another drink. “Proud of you, bud, coming clean. And I’m sorry I socked you like that. But Veronica got into my head and twisted everything around.”

  “No, I deserved it. I hope I didn’t screw things up for you.”

  I thought of Veronica and that asshole singer, then the coldness in her words when she called our relationship a business transaction. “Well, you did, but really you only brought certain truths to the light.”

  “Oh, shit. Sorry about that, dude.”

  “Yeah, me, too.”

  He grunted. “I guess I’m still pissed about what Clare did to you.”

  I spun the beer cap on the table. “She showed up today.”

  “Who? Clare?”

  “Yup.” I tossed the cap and it landed in the sink with a metal plunk. “In a trench coat with nothing underneath, like in the movies.”

  “No shit.” Scott whistled over his bottle, the sound echoing back like a hollow one-note song.

  “And Veronica walked in just as Clare was straddling me naked. So you weren’t the only one who fucked things up with me and Veronica.”

  Scott gave up trying to pick up another chicken ball with his chopsticks and stabbed it instead. “Man, that sucks. What did you say to Clare?”

  “I told her it was too late. Besides, I knew it was only because of my financial success. She didn’t have to get naked for me to see through her act.”

  He patted my arm, the beer slowing him slightly. “Good for you, Bax. Finally getting that girl out of your system.”

  “Too bad Veronica went with her.”

  “Give her time. Maybe she’ll come around.”

  The look on Veronica’s face as she’d gotten into the car had said otherwise. She was probably out of the state by now and already going by a new name. That was how she survived when hurt was thrown her way: she became someone who didn’t have to feel it.

  “Maybe.” Outside the kitchen window, the world had transformed into white.

  “Uh . . . you might wanna give Ally a call,” I said. “Not only should you not drive with those beers in you, it looks like we’re having a freaking snowstorm.”

  “Well,” Scott said, popping open another bottle, “good thing we have more beer.”

  “Just no getting drunk and trying to take advantage of me.” I laughed.

  “Dude, now that I know you have a punch like that, I plan to never piss you off again.”

  Veronica

  If there was one thing I excelled at, it was packing up and moving somewhere else to become someone new. Hell, I’d made a living off it.

  After finding Baxter in his apartment with his naked ex-fiancée on top of him, I knew it was time to move on from DC.

  I tossed endless clothes into the suitcases on my bed, not bothering to fold a single expensive stitch. Tears blurred the teal and crimson fabrics until they resembled swirled paint in the case.

  Fucking tears again. For someone who never cried, I’d been doing it a lot lately. I brushed at my face with a Chanel scarf, barely noticing how the salt stained the silk, and chucked it on the heap in the suitcase.

  The one time in my life I’d let my guard down and invited someone in, this was what happened. I should’ve known better. Should’ve strengthened my armor. I should never have gone back to Baxter’s apartment with him after I saw him again at the club. I should’ve let him walk clean out of my life. And I definitely shouldn’t have fallen in love with him.

  Purses in a rainbow of colors hung near the back of the closet, and I yanked them off their hooks and shoved them in with my clothes. A piece of white paper poked out of one of my favorite burgundy Burberrys, halting me.

  I slipped the envelope out and peeked inside. Bax’s money. All fifteen grand of it, still in crisp bills. I’d told him I’d spent some of it on his clothes and dinners, but that had been a lie. I’d had a feeling I couldn’t pull off what he wanted, and he looked like he needed more than a partial refund in his life. So I hadn’t spent his cash, just in case. Besides, it wasn’t like my bank account lacked for it.

  “Dammit, Bax,” I whispered in a choked voice that wasn’t my own. The money was mine now, free and clear. I’d earned it. But the idea of spending it sent my stomach tumbling more than it had when I’d drunk almost a whole minibar in the hotel with the Screeching Monkeys.

  I shoved the envelope back
in the purse and laid it with my coat.

  I trekked through my loft, making sure I’d gotten every last designer tag. Living as minimalistically as I did meant it was much easier for me to get up and go. The furniture wasn’t even mine. It had come with the loft rental.

  The souvenirs on the bookshelf stopped me in my barefoot tracks. I picked up the small replica of the Lincoln Memorial and rolled it against my palm. The day Bax had bought it for me had been the day I’d started to have real feelings for him—beyond my general disgust. Now that I knew he’d known about Frank back then, I understood what he’d been doing that day, dragging me from site to site: he’d wanted to take my mind off what had happened. He’d wanted to show me I could still have a good day. And he’d given me many good days after that.

  I dropped to the sofa, the plastic memorial digging into my palm, and closed my eyes against a new flood of tears. My fingers tightened around the souvenir, trying to crush it with the pressure, but the cheap-ass thing had to have been made of some strong plastic. When I opened my fist, the sixteenth president stared up at me, unharmed.

  Tossing the trinket in my smallest suitcase, I squared my shoulders and took a few deep breaths. I could do this. I could say good-bye to Veronica Wilde for good. She had nothing I needed, anyway. Just a suitcase of clothes and a broken heart. I could leave one of those behind.

  I heaved the luggage to the front door and went back for my coat and purse. Then I glanced out the window.

  “Oh, fuck me.”

  The plan had been to come home, pack, and get the hell out of DC as fast as possible. But the snow spilling from the sky had other plans for me.

  I leaned my forehead against the cool pane of glass, watching the snow collect around the corners of the windowsill.

  Shit. There was no way I could drive in that. Hell, a bunch of roads would probably be closed already. The world basically forgot how to drive when the white stuff came down. I flopped onto my bed with a moan, trying not to think of how many times Bax had made me moan for much nicer reasons in that very same spot. Then the image of him and his naked ex-fiancée took over, and her moans drowned out my own.