Strange Bedpersons

  “Speaking of Nick, why’d you shut the door on him? That’s prime home-building material there.”

  Tess laughed. “You obviously don’t know Nick. The only reason he’d build a home is for the equity. In fact, that’s the reason he did build a house.” She leaned her head back against the chair, remembering. “The skeleton of the place was up about the time I left him. We walked through it once, and I was trying to figure out what it would look like, and he was trying to figure out how much it would appreciate in value the first year.” Tess grinned. “It was not a Kodak moment for us.”

  “Did you have Kodak moments?”

  “Yeah,” Tess said, her grin fading. “We did. Quite a few actually.” She stood up suddenly and went into her bedroom.

  “Tess?” Gina called.

  “Here,” Tess said when she came back. She sat beside Gina on the edge of the couch and showed her a snapshot. It was Nick, a smudge of dirt on his chin and his hair in his eyes, in an old sweatshirt with the sleeves cut off, sitting on the ground with his arms wrapped around Tess from behind, his chin buried in her shoulder. Tess was even more of a mess: her red hair stood straight up and her face was dirty, and she had no makeup on at all. Her smile took up her whole face, and she looked about ten.

  “What were you doing?” Gina asked, mystified.

  “This is the first day we met.” Tess smiled at the picture. “At a picnic. Playing touch football. He was wearing these really ratty jeans and a sweatshirt that was older than my sweatshirt, and I thought he was poor and cheerful, like the prince in my fairy tale.” She laughed. “Boy, was I wrong.”

  Gina took the picture and looked at Nick more closely. “Even messed up, he’s gorgeous, Tess.”

  “I know,” Tess said. “But looks aren’t everything. It was those damn crinkles he gets around his eyes when he smiles that threw me off, but he was definitely the wrong prince.” She shook her head and sighed. “It wasn’t long before I caught on, though. I mean, we were obviously not the perfect couple. We went to this opera thing the night we broke up, and the press took our picture.” She grinned at Gina. “Actually the press took Nick’s picture and got me because I was standing-beside him. It finally made the society page a couple of days ago.” Her grin widened as she remembered the picture. “Nick looked like a Kennedy cousin. I looked like a rutabaga with hair. All over Riverbend, people looked at that picture and said, ‘What does he see in her?’” Tess shook her head again. “We definitely do not belong together.”

  Gina handed the photo back. “I still don’t get the prince bit.”

  Tess moved back to her own chair, looking sadly at the print. “Remember I told you I lived in a commune when I was little?” she said, her fingertip stroking the edge of the photo. “Well, my mother wouldn’t let me read Cinderella and the other fairy tales. She said they were patriarchal and sexist, and I was really disappointed, so a friend of hers at the commune, this guy named Lanny, made up this story for me that he called CinderTess.” She laughed at the sound of it.

  “Cute,” Gina said. “But I still don’t get the prince.”

  “Well, CinderTess got to the ball on her own without any fairy godmother by rescuing people and animals who turned out to be able to help her,” Tess explained. “But she felt responsible for them and their problems, so when she got to the ball, and she was the best dancer there—”

  “Not the prettiest?” Gina asked, grinning.

  “Looks are superficial. Real women get by on hard work and skill,” Tess said primly, and grinned back. “Where was I?”

  “She was the best dancer...” Gina prompted.

  “So while she had all the attention because she was the best, she sort of made speeches about the problems. There was one about the environment and one about the poor, I think. I never really paid attention to those parts and only listened to the good ones— about the prince.” She smiled again, remembering. “I didn’t care about the politically correct part. I just wanted a fairy tale with a prince.”

  Gina laughed. “Who doesn’t? So where’s the prince?”

  “There were two of them who got upset about the speeches. But the third prince said she was right and helped her and—this is the part I always liked—he had these crinkles...” she screwed up her face to make laugh lines at the corners of her eyes “...right here, and he promised her he’d help her make things better and that she’d laugh every day if she married him, so CinderTess knew he was the one.” She looked back down at the picture. “I’m sure Lanny meant well, but those crinkles have played merry hell with my life ever since I met Nick.”

  Someone knocked on the door.

  “Must be the landlord,” Gina said. “Try not to hurt him too bad.”

  Tess tossed the snapshot on the end table and stood up, tipping her exasperated cat out of her lap again, but when she opened the door, it was Nick.

  “I know you’re upset, so I won’t bother you for long.” He smiled at her, his dark eyes brimming with the confident charm she found alternately obnoxious and irresistible, depending on the reason he was using it on her. There were crinkles at the corners of his eyes, and a lock of his hair fell over one eye and made him look rakish and endearing.

  Tess was sure he knew he looked rakish and endearing.

  Still, he also knew she was troubled, and that was touching.

  His smile broadened as she hesitated. “I brought you something to cheer you up,” he said, handing her a carton of Chinese food.

  “What is it?” Tess said, taking it from him, knowing she shouldn’t but weakening.

  “Pot stickers,” Nick said. “Double order.”

  “Oh.” Tess blinked at him. “You remembered.”

  “I remember everything,” Nick said, and Tess’s uncertain expression turned to contempt.

  “That sounds like a line,” she said. “Did you really come back to apologize, or is this something that you and that weasel you work for have cooked up to close some deal?”

  “Park? Funny you should mention Park—” Nick said, and Tess slammed the door in his face again and went back to her chair, dropping the pot stickers on the table as she sat.

  “He’s hopeless,” Tess began, and then she jumped when Nick opened the door and closed it behind him, throwing the dead bolts.

  “Lock your door, dummy,” he said. “This is a terrible neighborhood. Anybody could walk in here.”

  “Anybody just did.” Tess put her hands on her hips, faking indignation. “Go away.”

  Nick headed for the kitchen, stopping only to pat Gina on the head. “Hi, kid. Good to see you again. You look great.”

  Gina beamed and started to say something, but he’d moved on by then. She checked herself, her smile fading, and then she dug in her purse until she found a stick of gum.

  “Excuse me?” Tess called after him. “I did not invite you in.”

  Nick backtracked swiftly and kissed her. She softened into him for just an instant, giving herself just a second of his warmth before she ripped into him as he so richly deserved. But before she could retaliate he let her go and again headed for her tiny kitchen. “God, this place is a mess,” he said. “Is any of my beer still in the fridge?” He stepped over the cat as it made for Tess’s lap. “Hello, Angela. Try not to shed on me.”

  Tess looked at Gina.

  “Definitely time to talk to the body,” Gina said. “If you’d had an apron on, you woulda ripped it off.”

  Tess jerked on the hem of her sweatshirt and lowered her chin, trying to psych herself into being impressive. “You’ve been rejected,” she called to Nick. “Leave.”

  “You can’t reject a proposal you’ve never heard,” Nick said from the kitchen.

  “You’re proposing?” Tess said in disbelief. “I don’t believe it.”

  Gina’s eyebrows shot up. “Marriage?” she whispered to Tess around her gum. “Grab him.”

  “Of course not marriage,” Tess said to Gina. “What are you proposing?” she asked Nick. “Whateve
r it is, the answer is no, of course, but I like to know what I’m rejecting.”

  “Well, not marriage.” Nick came to lean in the doorway with his beer, smiling at her, solidly attractive, boyishly confident and infinitely desirable. Stop it, Tess told herself, and narrowed her eyes at him.

  “I need a date for the weekend,” he said, and widened his grin. “I thought of you first.”

  “Why?” Tess said, trying to stomp on the little sizzle that had started inside her when he smiled at her.

  “Because I need you,” Nick said. “My life has been empty since you walked out.” He twisted the cap off the beer and began to drink.

  “Your life has never been empty, even after I walked out.” Tess swung her gaze to Gina. “I picked him up at the airport one day, and the stewardess kissed him goodbye. You’d have thought he was going off to war. She did everything but offer to have his baby right there on the spot.”

  Nick choked on his beer. “She was just a friend,” he said, swallowing. “I’m a friendly guy.”

  “I realize that,” Tess said, crossing her arms. “Get out.”

  “Tess, honey.” Nick leaned forward and smiled at her. “Sweetie. Baby.”

  “Boy, you must really be in trouble,” Tess said.

  “Up to my neck,” Nick said. “I need you. One weekend. No strings.”

  “No sex,” Tess said, ignoring her body. “That offer will not be repeated.”

  “Whatever you say,” Nick agreed. “If that’s the way you want it, no sex.”

  Tess turned to Gina. “This must be bad. I think he really is in trouble.”

  “So of course you gotta save him.” Gina smiled shyly at Nick. “I’m all for it. For once those do-gooder instincts of hers are gonna do her some good.”

  “You know, I always liked you,” Nick said to Gina, and she blushed with pleasure.

  “Actually I don’t care if I save him or not, but if I go with him this weekend, I’ll get to watch,” Tess said. “If it’s really big trouble, I may feel avenged for that war bride of a stewardess.”

  “You’re all heart,” Nick said to her.

  “Although it won’t make up for the night you stood me up at the Foundation benefit.” Tess made a face. “And definitely not for that night you turned me down in the Music Hall parking lot. I know women who’d be slashing your tires and poisoning your beer for that night alone.”

  Nick started and glanced down at the bottle in his hand.

  Tess studied him with a sinking heart and rising heat. He was easily the most attractive thing in her apartment. In fact, he was easily the most attractive thing in her life. Of course, looks were superficial. Especially on Nick who had more faces than Sybil.

  She cast an uncertain look at Gina, still stretched out on the couch.

  Gina cracked her gum. “Do it.”

  “Maybe.” Tess turned back to Nick. “Give me the details. And this better be good.”

  “It’s terrible,” Nick said.

  Gina swung her legs to the floor, winced and stood up. “This sounds like my exit cue.”

  “No, it isn’t,” Tess said at the same time Nick said, “Thank you. You have terrific instincts.”

  “Hey.” Tess said, but Gina picked up her purse.

  “I have to be going, anyway,” she told Tess. “I love you, but I don’t want to hang out in your neighborhood after dark, and I really need more of this muscle stuff on my legs. Call me later and tell me everything.”

  “You know, that’s an intelligent woman,” Nick said when she was gone.

  “That’s the woman you said was wasting her life in tights,” Tess reminded him.

  Nick winced. “I didn’t exactly say that. I said that dancing wasn’t much of a career, and she was going to be in trouble someday if she didn’t plan ahead.”

  “Well, some people live for the moment.” Tess flopped back into her chair and tried to forget that Gina was in trouble right now because she hadn’t planned ahead. One of the more annoying things about Nick was that he was often right.

  “I was wrong. I’m sorry.” Nick opened his mouth to go on, but Tess shook her head.

  “Forget it. I’m in a bad mood and I’m taking it out on you. Now, explain this mess to me.” She craned her neck to look up at him. “But don’t explain it looming over me.” She waved him to the floor.

  “Sit.” She watched him slide down the wall beside her chair to sit at her feet, his broad body graceful even in collapse. She grinned at him. “This is good. You understand the basic commands.”

  “Come down here with me and I’ll roll over,” Nick said, and Tess felt her pulse flutter.

  “Go away,” she said.

  “Forget I said that,” Nick said. “That was my evil twin.”

  “The only evil twin you have is that twit you work for,” Tess said.

  “Funny, you should mention Park...” Nick began again.

  IT HADN’T SEEMED LIKE a disaster to Nick when he’d walked blithely into his office at Patterson and Patterson a couple of hours earlier. Walking into Patterson and Patterson always made him feel good, anyway. There was something about the ambiance of grossly expensive imported mahogany paneling, grossly expensive imported Oriental carpets, grossly expensive antique furniture and moderately expensive secretarial help at his beck and call that made him feel like a robber baron. And that afternoon, life had been especially good: an important and unexpectedly swift victory in court, a grateful client and an afternoon that was suddenly his to spend any way he wanted. If the lettering on the door had only said Patterson, Patterson and Jamieson, life would have been perfect.

  Then things started to go downhill.

  “I’m back, Christine,” he’d said to his secretary.

  Christine looked up at him, beautifully brunette but only marginally interested.

  “No, don’t get up,” he said on his way into his office. “I can find my way.”

  Christine drifted to her feet and followed him, giving the impression she’d been going that way, anyway. “Mr. Patterson was in today,” she told him. “And Park wants to see you.”

  “You put that well.” Nick shrugged off his jacket and dropped it on a chair. He sat down at his desk, glanced at the framed snapshot on it with a half smile, and then leaned back in his chair, tugging at his tie. “Park’s dad put him in a snit again, but you’re too tactful to say that. No wonder we pay you a fortune.”

  “I need a raise,” Christine said without changing her tone or expression. “And I wouldn’t call it a snit. More like a panic.”

  Nick loosened his tie and sighed a little in relief. “I hate ties. Some woman must have thought them up for revenge.” He cocked an eye at Christine. “You wouldn’t have had anything to do with that, would you?”

  “Yes,” Christine said. “You also have several messages from women. None from Tess.”

  Nick’s eyes went to the picture on his desk and then back to Christine. “Why would I want to hear from Tess?”

  “Because you keep calling her and she doesn’t call back,” Christine said with great and obvious patience. “Your messages are on your desk. Park is in his office. Pacing.”

  Nick ignored the messages. “Anything I should know before I see him?”

  “How would I know?” Christine said, drifting out the door again. “I’m just a secretary.”

  “Right,” Nick said. “And don’t you forget it.”

  Christine ignored him.

  “NICK!” PARK HAD COME out from behind his massive desk to slap him on the back, the picture of an Ivy League beach-boy, hitting forty and fighting it every minute. “Buddy! Pal! Compadre?”

  “Compadre?” Nick shook his head and stretched out in the leather chair in front of Park’s desk. “This must be bad. You don’t speak Spanish.”

  “How about partner?” Park said.

  Nick crossed his ankles on the Oriental rug, trying to look unconcerned as his pulse leapt. “Partner would be good,” he said. “Does this mean we got t
he Welch account?”

  “We haven’t exactly got the account.” Park sat on the edge of his desk and leaned forward to slap Nick on the shoulder again. “But no problemo, hey? You can still pull it off. You’ll just have to do a couple of small things and—”

  “What?” Nick said suspiciously, his heart sinking at Park’s tone.

  “Well, it would help if you’d get married,” Park said.

  “I told you that you shouldn’t have done all those drugs in the seventies,” Nick said. “You’re having a flashback.”

  “Funny.” Park paused. “Welch called Dad. He wants to meet our families. Especially yours. He likes you.”

  “We don’t have families,” Nick said. “Or I don’t. You can at least show him a couple of parents. What’s this about?”

  “I have no idea,” Park said. “We’re invited to his place in Kentucky —Friday night and Saturday— for a reading from his new book, and Dad said that Welch specifically told him that we’re supposed to bring our wives. Especially you. What did you say to Welch, anyway?”

  Nick shrugged. “I don’t know. I sure as hell didn’t tell him I was married. He came to my office on an impulse, he said, and for some reason he was being a real bastard, edgy as hell, and I was pouring on the charm, trying to sell him on the deal when all of sudden, he—” Nick stopped, trying to pinpoint exactly what had happened. “He mellowed on me. Smiled, nodded, turned into Mr. Congeniality.” Nick frowned as he remembered the conversation. “I’ve been going over it in my mind, but for the life of me, I can’t recall exactly what I said. I was just explaining the plans we had for negotiating the new book contract, and suddenly he was a nice guy. And now he wants to meet my family? This is ridiculous.”

  “No, this is Norbert Nolan Welch, the great American author,” Park said. “This is the account my father wants, has always wanted, and will be overwhelmed to get. This is the one we want so much that if we have to get married to get it, we will.”