Fast Women

by Jennifer Crusie

  “Drive,” she said.

  Suze took off without question, and Nell caught her breath. “I am so sorry about that,” she said to Marlene, who was heaving in her lap. “I had no idea.”

  Marlene looked up at her with blood in her eye. Then she barked once, a short, sharp, furious aaarp sound that could have cut glass.

  “My God,” Suze said. “Garbo speaks. What happened?”

  “Farnsworth got a new dog,” Nell said. “A German shepherd the size of a horse.”

  Suze laughed, and then as she thought about it, laughed harder. “Oh, God,” she said finally. “That is so perfect.” Marlene moaned her anger and Suze said, “I can relate, Marlene. I was replaced, too.”

  Marlene barked at her, including her in the night of infamy.

  “Hey, it wasn’t my idea,” Suze said, keeping her eyes on the road. “I bought the chenille and the bomber jacket. It was Mother Teresa here who wanted to do the right thing.”

  Marlene looked at Nell again, who said, “I’m sorry,” and then she curled up grumbling in Nell’s lap.

  “You know, once you lose their trust, you never get it back,” Suze said.

  “Oh, please,” Nell said. “One biscuit and she’s mine for life.”

  Marlene looked up at her and barked again, a bark that spoke volumes about her contempt for and distrust of the woman she’d once moaned at daily.

  “Can we stop and get some dog biscuits?” Nell said. “I think I’d better do something fast here.”

  “It’ll have to be plain old grocery store biscuits,” Suze said. “We’re very late.”

  “One more betrayal,” Nell told Marlene, but later, when Suze had run into Big Bear to get the biscuits, Nell gathered the dog up to her and hugged her and said, “Marlene, I’m so sorry. And I’m so glad we get to keep you. You didn’t really want to go back there, did you? You were just curious about the yard, right?”

  Marlene regarded her malevolently and barked.

  “As long as we’re still communicating,” Nell said.

  * * *

  Marlene was grumpy about being left in the car with the windows rolled down the prescribed inch, and once Nell got into the Long Shot, she was willing to trade places. The bar was pretty much the norm in yuppie drinking holes—great beer, good wings, and mediocre music—and Nell couldn’t think of a place she wanted to be less.

  “You know,” Suze said, “this is the kind of place I always wanted to go to and Jack would never take me. Now I see his point.”

  “Whose idea was this place, anyway?” Nell said.

  “I’ll get the drinks,” Suze said brightly. “You grab a table.”

  Nell found a table near the door and sat down to watch Suze thread her way through the crowd to the bar, gathering second glances from men as she went and not noticing any of them. Nell looked around, hoping to spot Riley, and stopped cold when she got to the bar. A man there who looked a lot like Gabe was talking to a very attractive brunette who looked a lot like the Hot Lunch. She squinted through the smoke. Yep, Gabe and Gina. She felt sick for a moment, as if she’d been punched in the stomach, and then she turned away. If Riley had set this up so she’d get jealous and go back, she was going to hurt him. And if he hadn’t.… Gina Taggart, she thought. What was Gabe, stupid? He, of all people, knew what she was like.

  Of course, if he wasn’t looking for a permanent relationship, what Gina was like was probably just what he wanted.

  Men.

  Nell sat back defeated and let the darkness and the music wash over her. The music was fairly lousy but the dark was good. It hid the fact that she didn’t care where Riley was and that she cared desperately what Gabe was doing with Gina. She looked over at the bar, and they were gone. That hurt a lot more than it should have. She looked at her watch. It was only quarter to nine. Gabe moved fast. But then she knew that.

  “So what’ve you got to show me, kid?” Riley said, pulling out the chair beside her and making her jump.

  “What? Oh. Nice to see you, too.” Nell fumbled with her purse, trying to forget Gabe and Gina. “This.” She handed him the newsletter and pointed to the picture. “That’s Stewart and his secretary.”

  Riley squinted at the picture. “And if there was light in here, I could probably see them.”

  “His secretary was Lynnie Mason,” Nell said, and Riley stopped looking superior.

  “Jesus. Lynnie and Stewart?”

  Nell nodded. “If you were wondering who figured out the embezzling thing, that would be Lynnie. She said she was good with money, and she certainly did a nice job on your place.”

  “Gabe would like to see this,” Riley said, looking around.

  “He left with Gina Taggart,” Nell said, trying not to sound pathetic.

  “He’s not that dumb.” Riley peered at her through the gloom. “You okay?”

  “Yes. You don’t need to save me from my broken love life again.”

  “I didn’t save you the first time. You did. I just provided some distraction.”

  “Well, thank you for that,” Nell said, and on an impulse, she leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “You are something special, you know?”

  “Me? Nah,” Riley said, but he looked flustered and pleased. Then he looked past her and frowned. “Oh, fuck.” He handed her the newsletter. “Stay here.”

  Nell looked where he had been looking and saw Suze backed against the bar by some tall guy. “She can take care of herself,” she began and then the guy leaned forward and she realized who he was. “Go,” she said, and Riley went.

  * * *

  Suze had gone to the bar and ordered two Diet Cokes, scanning the room for Riley while she waited. The place was packed, but Riley was nowhere. The Cokes were a long time coming, and when she paid for them and turned to go back to Nell, she found a tall, scowling man in her way.

  “Excuse me,” she said as he peered closer at her. Terrific, just what I need, a pickup. “Look, I’m not interested, okay? No offense, but—”

  “I thought so,” the man said, slurring his words a little. “It was hard to tell from across the room, but I thought so.”

  “Did you?” Suze said, trying to move past him. “Good for you. Now if you’ll excuse me—”

  “You stole my dog,” the man said and took a step closer, and Suze thought, Farnsworth, and took a step back, bumping into the bar.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, looking around for the bartender. The place must have bouncers. The guy was drunk.

  “I’m going to have you arrested,” he said. “You stole my dog.”

  Men on both sides of them turned to stare appreciatively at her, but nobody seemed inclined to interfere. Great, Suze thought, trying to slide away down the bar. Nobody wants to be a hero anymore.

  Farnsworth slapped his hand down on the bar, blocking her slide, stepping even closer, almost touching her, and said, “You’re not going anywhere—”

  “Oh, sure she is,” Riley said from behind him, and he swung around scowling, while Suze slid the other direction and away from the bar.

  “Who are you?” Farnsworth said.

  “I’m with her,” Riley said easily. “Stop putting the moves on my woman.”

  Suze lost her interest in Farnsworth completely.

  “Moves?” Farnsworth laughed. “She stole my dog.”

  “No, she didn’t,” Riley said, putting his shoulder between her and Farnsworth. He had great shoulders.

  “Yes, she—”

  “No,” Riley said. “She didn’t.”

  Yeah, Suze thought from behind him. Don’t push us around.

  Farnsworth snorted. “Tough guy.”

  “Not really,” Riley said. “But I do get tense when people bother the blonde. Go away.”

  “She stole—” Farnsworth began again, and this time Riley stepped closer, backing him into the bar.

  “Let me put this another way,” Riley said, his voice even. “You don’t know her, you never saw her, and yo
u’re never going to see her again.”

  Farnsworth opened his mouth again and then looked at Riley’s face. Suze couldn’t see what he saw because she was behind Riley, but she saw Farnsworth’s scowl disappear.

  “I’m sure if you look at her closely,” Riley said in a reasonable tone, “you’ll realize you’ve never seen her before. There are a lot of thirtysomething blondes in this city.”

  “Not like her,” Farnsworth said, looking at Suze over his shoulder.

  “Dime a dozen,” Riley said, with unmistakable menace in his voice this time. “You just made a mistake, that’s all.”

  Farnsworth looked from Riley to Suze and back again. “I didn’t like the damn dog anyway,” he said and shoved himself away from the bar, and Suze let out her breath.

  “Don’t even start with me on the dime-a-dozen thing,” Riley said, turning to her.

  “I think you’re wonderful,” Suze said.

  “Oh.” He looked taken aback, but he also looked solid and sane and honest and on her side.

  “And not just for him,” Suze said. “Thank you for giving me the Becca thing.”

  “Well, you’re going to be good,” Riley said, still thrown. “We need you.”

  “And for treating me like an adult.” She took a chance. “A partner.”

  Riley frowned at her. “Well, hell, Suze—”

  “And for looking at me the way I am now and not thinking of me in that cheerleader uniform and saying ‘You’re not young anymore, babe.’”

  “What?” Riley said.

  “I saw the pictures you took,” she said, not looking at him because it was so embarrassing. “I saw what Jack married and why he left.”

  “Oh,” Riley said. “Yeah, you were pretty.”

  Suze winced.

  “But nothing like you are now,” he said, and the certainty in his voice made her lift her head. “And nothing like you’re going to be tomorrow. You’ve got one of those faces that get sharper and brighter every day. When you’re eighty, people are going to have to wear sunglasses to look at you.”

  Suze gaped at him.

  “What?” he said. “Don’t give me that. You have a mirror. You know you’re beautiful. Stop fishing for compliments.”

  “Why do you spend time with me?” she said.

  He frowned at her. “What is this?”

  “Why?”

  He shrugged. “It feels good.”

  She nodded. “It does, doesn’t it?” No stress, no worry, no tension, no fear. She looked up at him and thought, I could look at that face for the rest of my life. I could live with that face.

  “What?” he said, still wary.

  “I think I just got it,” she said, and smiled at him, feeling her heart lift.

  He looked at her for a long moment, and then he bent and kissed her.

  It was a soft kiss, the way first kisses are supposed to be—the one on the porch didn’t count, Suze thought, it hadn’t been real, she hadn’t known then—and she put her hand on his cheek and kissed him back, loving and wanting him this time without any motive at all. His mouth fit hers so perfectly that when he pulled back, she said, breathless with discovery, “That’s why Jack was so jealous all those years. It was supposed to be you all the time.”

  “I don’t want to hear about Jack,” Riley said and kissed her again, and Suze fell into her future.

  * * *

  Back at the table, Nell watched them and thought, Well, something’s working out the way it’s supposed to. Maybe I’ll hunt Gabe down and pull Gina’s hair. That was her fault. It had taken her twenty-two years to blow her first relationship and only three months to destroy her second. If she decided to let Jack have his way with her, it’d be over in a week.

  She put her chin in her hand and contemplated a Gabeless future. It was too bleak to face, she’d just have to get him back, and she’d begun to plan when somebody sat down next to her. She turned to see Gabe sliding a drink her way. “You look like you need this,” he said, and her heart lurched a little as she faced him.

  “Thank you,” she said, ignoring the drink, while she tried to breathe normally. “Where’s Gina?”

  “I just put her in a cab. Where’s Riley?”

  “Chasing Suze,” Nell said. He leaned toward her and made her breath go away. “What are you doing?”

  “Chasing you,” Gabe said and kissed her, taking her back to the beginning, and she thought, Yes, thank you, and kissed him back. When he pulled away, he said, “I just wanted to make sure I still had a chance.”

  “I love you,” she said, holding on to him.

  “I love you, too,” he said. “If you want to talk, I’ll listen.” He looked wonderful, dangerous and hot and sweet and solid and good and everything she’d ever wanted in a man. Then she remembered that “just a secretary” crack, and for a minute, he looked like Tim.

  “Okay.” She took a sip of her drink—Glenlivet and ice, like old times—and then centered her glass in front of her, choosing her words carefully. “You have to understand this. Tim and I had a good marriage. We really did. I met him my first year in college and fell in love right there, at nineteen. We got married, and I dropped out of school to help him at his uncle’s insurance agency, and he told me every day how he couldn’t live without me. He was a great guy, Gabe. I really loved him. He really loved me. It wasn’t a mistake.”

  Gabe nodded, and Nell took a deep breath.

  “His uncle died and left us the business, and we started to get ahead, started winning an Icicle every other year or so, and Tim didn’t change at all.”

  “But you did,” Gabe said, and Nell sighed with relief.

  “Yes,” she said. “I made all the office decisions and Tim made all the sales and insurance decisions, but he still thought of me as that freshman he’d married.” She leaned forward. “I don’t want to tell this wrong. He was good to me, he just wouldn’t admit I was a partner. So I manipulated him so he’d think he was making the decisions, and the agency really took off. For nine years after that, we won the Icicle every year. Tim was a legend in the company.”

  “But you weren’t,” Gabe said.

  Nell sat back. “I don’t know if I really cared that I wasn’t for other people. But I cared that Tim didn’t see it. I started to get sloppier about manipulating him, I think because I’d been so mad for so long. We started to argue, and during one of those arguments, I told him he couldn’t run the place without me.” She shifted in her chair. “He told me that I did a good job, but not to get ideas about who was the boss. He patronized me. So I went back to manipulating, but I was so angry, and that kind of anger just poisoned us. And then one Christmas, he stood up and said, ‘I don’t love you anymore,’ and walked out.”

  “And you think we were getting there, too,” Gabe said.

  “I think we might have,” Nell said. “I don’t know, we’re so different from what Tim and I had. I need you in ways I never needed him. Not to do anything for me or be anything for me, just to be you. And I don’t want to destroy us. Because the thing is, Gabe, when I see Tim now, I hate him. I mean acid, seething hate. And it’s not because of Whitney. It’s because he took me for granted for twenty-two years and I let him. It’s twenty-two years of frustration and resentment and manipulation and denial. And I don’t think he deserves it, he’s not a bad guy at all. But I still really hate him and I hope the agency goes downhill and his life corrodes and he’s left empty and wanting.” She sat back. “I never want to look at you the way I look at Tim now.”

  Gabe rubbed his forehead. “I was sort of hoping you were going to give me a list of demands. This is harder.”

  “Yes,” Nell said. “Because I’m not exactly sure how to do this. You’re like Tim, you haven’t changed. You’ll say what you have to say so I’ll come back, you’ll humor me, but you won’t really believe I’m important.”

  “You’re important,” Gabe said. “I know you’re more than a secretary, I was just trying to slow you down.”

&n
bsp; “I don’t want to slow down,” Nell said. “Which doesn’t mean I think it’s my way or the highway. There’s got to be a way we can make this work, I want to come back, but if I do, I’ll start manipulating and you’ll start yelling and—”

  “You’re right,” Gabe said. “Look, we don’t have to solve this tonight. Suze is doing a great job for us, so we’re not in trouble, and when you’re ready to come back, she’ll be ready to work on other things.”

  “Okay,” Nell said, trying not to feel jealous.

  Gabe let out his breath. “We can do this.”

  “We have to,” Nell said. “I can’t live without you, but I can’t stand the way we were.” She stood up. “And now I’m really tired. Marlene has been sulking in the car for an hour now, and I’ve had a rough day, and this place stinks on ice.”

  “Riley said you found something,” he said.

  “Oh, God yes,” Nell said, remembering. “A newsletter.” She dug it out of her purse, and he squinted at it in the dim light. “It’s a picture of Stewart and his secretary. Lynnie.”

  “Jesus,” Gabe said. “Lynnie?” He stood up. “Let’s go find Riley.”

  * * *

  “So what have we got?” Gabe said an hour later at the Sycamore as he pushed his empty plate away. “We’ve got Stewart killing Helena in 1978, probably following a plan by Trevor or Jack, and then stealing the diamonds.”

  “And embezzling from O&D fifteen years later with Lynnie,” Nell said, over her vinegar and fries.

  “And then Margie hits him with her pitcher and he disappears,” Suze said.

  “Unbelievable,” Riley said, looking at the newsletter again.

  “And Lynnie hits the road because she thinks Stewart will call her to join him and because she doesn’t want to take the heat for the embezzling,” Gabe said. “Then seven years later, she shows up on our doorstep and convinces Riley’s mother to take a vacation. And she begins to blackmail Trevor and Jack and Budge and Margie for Stewart’s disappearance.”

  “She got Budge for embezzling,” Nell said, frowning. “That doesn’t fit.”