Faking It

by Jennifer Crusie

  “Right,” Tilda said, looking at her sister in disbelief. “Good advice, Louise.”

  “We’ll be just fine,” Gwen said, standing up. “Uh, how exactly do I ask him if he paid the mortgage?”

  “He’ll tell you,” Eve said, still channeling Louise. “Guys love to tell you stuff like that.”

  UPSTAIRS IN Simon’s apartment, Davy said, “What would you think if I paid off the mortgage on this place? Don’t tell Tilda.”

  “I’d think you were insane,” Simon said. “Why would I tell Tilda?”

  “You told Louise we worked for the Feds,” Davy said.

  “It seemed like a good idea,” Simon said. “You’re not serious about that mortgage?”

  “Pretty much. I gather you told Louise you were a Fed, but you didn’t tell her you were a thief?”

  “Good God, no.” Simon sat on the edge of the table. “About that mortgage. I think we’ve been here long enough. What do you say we go back to Miami?”

  Davy felt like punching him. “You know, the thief thing would have turned Louise on a lot more than the FBI.”

  “She’d have told Eve,” Simon said. “It’s been two weeks. Time to go home.”

  “She did tell Eve about the FBI,” Davy said. “Who told Tilda. Who told me last night, which is when I realized why she’s been avoiding me. She thought I was an agent. You screwed up my sex life.”

  Simon got up and pulled his suitcase out from under the bed. “I don’t see how.”

  “I feel strongly,” Davy said, “that if somebody is going to lie to my girl, it should be me. That way none of us gets confused.”

  “Your girl.” Simon shook his head. “We are definitely going back to Miami.”

  “And leave Louise?” Davy turned to go.

  “I’m ready to go,” Simon said. “You got your money back—”

  Davy turned back. “Do not mention that to anyone!”

  “Interesting,” Simon said. “I would think that would turn Tilda on even more than the FBI.”

  “You don’t know Tilda,” Davy said. “I mean it. Nobody finds out.”

  “You’re a lot easier to live with in Miami,” Simon said. “Ohio makes you tense.”

  “Not really,” Davy said, thinking about Tilda upstairs. “Have you ever met a woman you wanted to give everything to? Just turn over everything you had?”

  “No,” Simon said. “Being of sound mind, of course not.”

  “Me, either,” Davy said. “I’d have told you that Clea was the great love of my life, but I never felt the slightest urge to buy her a diamond.”

  “Smart boy,” Simon said.

  Davy sat down on the edge of the bed. “I looked at that money in my account last night and suddenly felt this overwhelming need to pay off Tilda’s mortgage.”

  “So we should be leaving now,” Simon said, opening his suitcase. “A good time was had by all. Cheerio.”

  “It was only six hundred thousand.” He shook his head. “And then later...” He looked at Simon. “Did you ever watch a woman in glasses strip to ‘I Can’t Stay Mad at You’? Dumb song, but Tilda can sing the hell out of it.”

  “I’ll make the reservations.” Simon picked up the phone. “Would you like me to hold on to your checkbook for you?”

  “No,” Davy said. “Look, I can afford it. It would be a generous thing to do. I still haven’t paid for the bed.”

  “Do not give money to women,” Simon said as he dialed. “They either take it badly, or they take it and want more. You can’t win.”

  “I could tell her it was an investment.”

  “In a broken-down art gallery that is rapidly going to the dogs that even she doesn’t want anything to do with? No.” Simon spoke into the phone. “Hello, love, it’s me, your favorite client. How fast can you get Davy and me on a flight to Miami? Out of Columbus.”

  “I have to go see my sister on Sunday,” Davy said.

  “Out of Columbus on Sunday night,” Simon said into the phone.

  “You know, a smart guy could make this place work,”

  Davy said. “Put in a little capital, start the old razzle-dazzle—”

  “Absolutely not,” Simon said to him, and then spoke into the phone again. “No, not you, darling, that sounds brilliant. Two tickets, one-way.”

  “Simon, I already did it,” Davy said and Simon hung up.

  “Sandy’s got us on the ten o’clock direct flight on Sunday,” he said briskly. “That’ll give you time to see Sophie, and me time to say good-bye to Louise. In fact, why don’t you go see Sophie now? Spend the weekend?”

  “Because the opening is tonight,” Davy said. “Did you hear me? I transferred the money to the Goodnights’ loan last night. It’s done.”

  Simon crossed his arms. “You did. And what did Tilda say?”

  “I didn’t tell her,” Davy said. “It’s going to be hard to explain.”

  Simon nodded. “Because many women, when given large sums of money, expect that the giver will stay around for a while.”

  “Well, yeah.” Davy stood up. “Actually, I’m thinking about staying.”

  “No you’re not,” Simon said with heavy patience. “You’re thinking about sex.”

  “Go away,” Davy said, wanting to punch him because he was probably right. “It’s Friday. I have to call my sister.”

  “Much better to go see her,” Simon said, “now,” but he left as Davy punched the numbers into his cell phone.

  “Tucker residence,” Phin said, and Davy thought, Oh, hell, not you.

  “Harvard, old buddy,” he said. “It’s me. Sophie around?”

  “Nope,” Phin said. “Council meeting. She’s going to come home bitchy, though, so I’d try again tomorrow.”

  “Okay,” Davy said. “Don’t tell her I called in case I can’t get back right away.”

  “You in trouble?”

  “Dempseys are never in trouble,” Davy said loftily. “We just have stretches of life that are more interesting than others.”

  “How interesting is your life right now?”

  Davy thought of Tilda, singing “You’ve got me where you want me” a cappella as she shimmied her bra off. “Very.”

  “How bad is it?” Phin sounded as calm as ever. “You just in trouble with the law or is somebody trying to kill you?”

  “That’s not the problem,” Davy said. “For once, I’m innocent and everybody loves me.” Clea’s face rose before him, not to mention Ford’s. “Well, almost everybody.” And then there was Michael. “Did Sophie ever tell you about our dad?”

  “Yes,” Phin said and then a beat later said, “Oh, no.”

  “Yeah,” Davy said. “I can handle it, he doesn’t know where you are, but it’s Dad, so he’ll find out eventually. And then he’ll boost the kids’ college funds and sell the town council land in Rorida and take Sophie for every dime she has.”

  “The kids don’t have college funds. The rest would be bad.”

  “I’m hoping he’ll get tired and wander off, but if he heads your way, lock the door. And don’t tell Sophie or she’ll feel like she has to invite him in.”

  “Right,” Phin said.

  “Oh, and in case you find out anyway,” Davy said, “the kids now have college funds.” He hung up and gave one last thought to Temptation. It didn’t matter how safe it was there, if he had to go back, he’d con somebody just from the boredom. The thought of what his father could do there was worse.

  Plus, Scarlet wasn’t there.

  “Worthless place,” he said and went to see what Tilda was doing.

  WHEN TILDA came downstairs that night, she found Davy in the middle of the gallery, surveying the place with a frown. “What now?” she said from the office doorway.

  “I can’t tell if it’s too crowded or not,” he said. “You want it to look like there’s a lot here without it looking like we’ll never unload all of it, and I don’t know enough about galleries to ...” His voice trailed off as he looked at her. “Whoa.”<
br />
  Tilda smoothed her skirt down and fought back a smile. “Exactly the right word, thank you.” She turned around so he could get the full effect of the dress’s backlessness. “Do you like it?” When he didn’t say anything, she turned back. “Hello?”

  He nodded.

  “Is it too much?”

  He shook his head.

  “Speak.”

  “Could I see you upstairs?” he said finally.

  She smiled and crossed the room to him, and he reached for her before she was close. She slid into his arms and felt the world settle around them.

  “You’re beautiful, Scarlet,” he whispered in her ear, and she knew she should say, “Me?” and be modest, but she just nestled closer and said, “Yes, I am.” He laughed and kissed the top of her head, and then Gwen came in and he let go.

  She could still feel his arms around her while Gwen marveled at the dress. Louise stopped in on her way to the Double Take and took her glasses off —“Not with that dress, Tilda,”— and Ethan said, “‘That’s not a dress, that’s an Audrey Hepburn movie,’” and Nadine smacked him on the back of the head before he could tell her it was a movie quote. Even Steve seemed respectful, although that may just have been because he was wearing his brocade vest again. “He was in the Dispatch,” Nadine said, showing Tilda the picture of Steve on the back of the Accent section, looking weirdly intellectual in his bow tie, like a furry Woody Allen. “What do you think?”

  And Tilda looked across the top of the paper at Davy and said, “I think he’s amazing.”

  Davy was even more amazing when people began to come in. He smiled, and laughed and made them say yes, steering them to different pieces, watching their faces to see which things they responded to and then moving in for the sale. “What a wheeler-dealer,” Jeff had said halfway through the evening when he’d brought out the last of Thomas’s potstickers. “The guy’s an ace.”

  “You have no idea,” Tilda said, keeping an eye on Davy in case he needed her. She thought her face was going to crack from smiling, but Davy was still relaxed and easy.

  “It’s not just him,” Jeff said. “His dad sold three more Finsters.”

  “You’re kidding,” Tilda said, looking around to see.

  “Back there.” Jeff jerked his head toward the left. “He must be drugging the customers.”

  “He’s conning them,” Tilda said, squinting to see. “I don’t have my glasses on. He doesn’t have them backed into a corner, does he?”

  “No,” Jeff said, grinning. “And they’re all women. Do you think that’s significant?”

  Tilda looked back at Davy, very tasty in Simon’s dress shirt and tie. “No, I’m sure that has no relevance at all.”

  She threaded her way through the crowd to stand beside him and then waited until he’d made his sale and turned to her. “You’re my hero,” she said.

  “Why?” he said, suddenly cautious.

  She slipped her arm through his. “You got back all my Scarlets and now you’re getting rid of all this furniture.”

  “Oh.” He looked relieved. “Listen, this stuff sells itself. There’s almost nothing left downstairs. Ethan and I even loaded the bed into the back of your van. You’re sure you don’t mind me taking it to Temptation on Sunday?”

  “As long as you come back,” she said, trying not to tighten her grip on him.

  “Yeah, that’s all my rap sheet needs,” Davy said, looking over her head. “Grand theft auto. I have to go. There’s a woman over there who is trying to buy that chair with the purple bats.”

  Tilda turned to follow his eyes. “Then why isn’t she? I can’t see details without my glasses.”

  “Because Mason is helping her,” Davy said grimly. “He is undoubtedly telling her it will appreciate and add to her retirement income. Look at him, he’s standing there with his arms folded smiling because he thinks he’s sold her.”

  “He does that when he plays poker, too.” Tilda squinted in his general direction. “When he thinks he has something. Which he never does. Bats are going to add to her retirement income?”

  “Yeah, I’m not seeing the logic, either.” He pulled his arm away, kissed her cheek, and started across the floor.

  “Hey,” Tilda said.

  He stopped and came back.

  “You’re not getting tired of me, are you, Ralph?” she said, trying to keep her voice light. “Leaving me for purple bats and Temptation. We’re in a rut already?”

  “We don’t do ruts, Celeste,” he said. “We’re inventive. If we start to pall on each other, we’ll improvise.”

  Tilda moved closer, wanting his warmth. “Like how?”

  He bent to her ear. “Like sometime before I go, you’re going to be Grandma, and I’m going to be Mussolini.” Then he straightened and she realized he was looking over her shoulder at Mason. “Oh, hell,” he said, and took off without looking back.

  “Before you go?” Tilda said to his back. Did that mean before he went to Temptation or before he went forever? “Australia,” she said with loathing and turned her back on him to help a man who had a question about a lavender frog bookcase.

  DAVY’S EVENING went beautifully, even with his dad coming by every half hour or so to say, “Damn, what a setup.”

  “I’m impressed with the Dempseys,” Louise said to him before she left for work. She was dressed in tight, stretchy black, and even though he knew she was Eve in a black wig and dark contacts, he couldn’t help thinking of her as Louise because Eve would never wear that dress. “Your dad is selling Finsters almost as fast as you’re selling Matilda Veronicas.”

  “Don’t say it,” Davy said, knowing what was coming.

  “Two of a kind,” Louise said and drifted away.

  A few minutes later, Michael came up to Davy. “Why is Eve dressed up like Elvira, Queen of the Night?”

  “What?” Davy said.

  “And calling herself Louise. It’s a con, right?”

  “Oh, hell,” Davy said. “It took me two weeks to get that.”

  “You were distracted,” Michael said sympathetically. “Sex will do that to you.”

  “You’re not sleeping with Dorcas?” Davy said, surprised.

  “A gentleman never tells,” Michael said.

  “You’re sleeping with Dorcas,” Davy said. “And selling her paintings, I understand.”

  “They’re works of art,” Michael said seriously, and anybody but Davy would have believed him.

  “Well, I hope she appreciates the work you’re doing. Nobody else but you could move those things.”

  Michael put his hand over his heart. “Why, thank you, my boy, I’m touched.”

  Davy shrugged. “Have to give the devil his due. You’re good.”

  “Yes,” Michael said, smiling back at Dorcas, who was looking pale but lovely in gray crepe. “I am.” Then he went back to selling Finsters.

  Davy watched for a moment to see Michael’s newest mark turn to him and expand under the light in his smile and the glint in his eye. That’s wrong, he thought, but she looked so happy as she bought a Finster that it was hard to explain why it was wrong.

  Maybe when she woke up the next morning and realized she’d bought a watercolor of sadistic fishermen drowning fish, maybe that was when it was wrong. Assuming she did. Maybe she’d look at it and remember how she’d felt when she bought it. Maybe it would make her happy.

  Maybe he was rationalizing. He went to sell a woman a sideboard with green and blue elephants.

  Ten minutes later, the sideboard sold, and feeling something was missing in his life, Davy went looking for Tilda and her blue dress and saw her over by the counter, talking with a tall, good-looking guy in an expensive suit. She looked happy.

  I’m not jealous, Davy thought, and then grabbed Andrew as he went by. “Hey.”

  “I’m late for the Double Take,” Andrew said. “Make it fast.”

  Davy nodded toward the counter. “Who’s the suit with Tilda?”

  Andrew looked
over. “Scott. Old boyfriend.”

  “Oh.” Davy watched Tilda laugh up at the guy and felt his jaw grow tight.

  “He’s a lawyer,” Andrew said helpfully. “Very successful. Treated her like a goddess. They were great together.”

  “No they weren’t,” Davy said, watching Tilda put her hand on the suit’s arm. “He’s all wrong for her.”

  “Uh-huh,” Andrew said, and turned away, almost running into Michael.

  “Andrew,” Michael said, “who’s that idiot with Gwennie? He was here last night, too. Worst salesman I’ve ever seen in my life.”

  Andrew looked over. “Mason Phipps. He treats her like a goddess. They’re great together.”

  “No they’re not,” Michael said. “He’s all wrong for her.”

  “Are you leaving soon?” Davy said to him. “Because if not, I’m going to get drunk.”

  “With Tilda in that blue dress? That’s no way to treat a woman, son,” Michael said. “No wonder she’s flirting with somebody else.” He went over to dazzle Gwennie and annoy Mason.

  “I don’t want to hear any ‘two of a kind’ crap,” Davy said to Andrew, his eyes back on Tilda.

  “He has a lot of good points,” Andrew said mildly.

  “He has a lot of bad ones, too,” Davy said grimly.

  “He is all wrong for her,” Andrew said.

  “Dad for Gwennie? Jesus, yes. So is Mason. She’s doodling teeth on the sales slips. That’s not a good sign.”

  “No,” Andrew said. “I meant that Scott’s all wrong for Tilda. You staying around?”

  Davy opened his mouth to say something and then couldn’t think of anything.

  “That’s what I thought,” Andrew said, sounding disgusted. “Two of a kind.”

  “Hey,” Davy began but Andrew walked off. “Okay, how did I get to be the bad guy again?”

  Across the room, Tilda turned away from Scott, and Davy caught her eye. He folded his arms and raised his eyebrows, and Tilda looked confused for a moment and then pointed at Scott. Davy nodded. Tilda stuck her chin in the air, but she grinned, and when he crooked his finger at her, she crossed the room to him and made his pulse pick up.