Strange Bedpersons

  Nick narrowed his eyes. “Why will we do this?”

  Park shifted on the desk. “Because if we get this, my father will retire.” He paused for a moment, a look of ecstasy on his face.

  “Why?” Nick said.

  “He’s been trying to get Welch for years.” Park shrugged at the inexplicability of it. “He’d consider it going out in style. Leaving the firm after snagging the account of one of America’s greatest novelists is his idea of the perfect exit. Think of the speeches at his retirement dinner. Think of the bragging he could do.” Park looked guiltily at Nick. “Think of you finally making partner.”

  Nick straightened in his chair, trying hard not to leap to his feet at the thought. There was ambition, which was good; and then there was pathetic, deep-seated, naked ambition, which was bad and which he was riddled with. He knew it was bad because it made him look anxious and vulnerable, and because Tess had told him it was morally reprehensible and there were times he thought she might have a point. A small point, but still a point. In the long run, though, it didn’t matter; lust for success was what made him run, and as long as he didn’t actually start maiming people to get to the top, he could live with it. The trick was in not betraying the depth of his need, so he kept his voice as cool as possible as he asked, “I make partner if we sign Welch?”

  “No doubt about it,” Park said. “We could stop sneaking around trying to run this place behind Dad’s back. We could stop cleaning up after his mistakes. And we could definitely make you partner. With my dad retired, it won’t matter that you’re not family. It won’t be a family firm anymore, anyway.”

  It was exactly what Nick wanted, but like everything else he’d wanted in his life, there was a catch to it. There was always a catch. Sometimes Nick got damn tired of catches.

  He leaned back in his chair and shook his head at Park. “But I make partner only if we get the account, which is probably not going to happen, and we both know it. You know, you could just suggest to your father that I should be a partner even though I’m not family. I’m overdue for it, no matter what he says.”

  Park looked appalled. “Disagree with my father?”

  “Right,” Nick said. “I forgot. So what is it I have to do here?”

  “Get married.”

  “No.”

  “My dad thinks it’s time.” Park looked suicidal. “He said that playing the field is for young men. He said unmarried men at forty-two just look pathetic.”

  Nick shrugged. “That’s your problem. I’m thirty-eight.”

  “He said anything over thirty-five is questionable.”

  Nick held on to his patience. “Park, no offense, but I don’t give a rat’s ass what your father thinks about my marital status. I just want to make partner.” He thought for a minute. “And a lot of money.”

  “And you will,” Park assured him. “You just have to get the Welch account.”

  “Right.”

  “So find a wife,” Park said.

  “No.”

  “How about a serious fiancée? Can’t you propose to one of those women you keep dating?”

  “How about a serious breach-of-promise suit when I change my mind after the weekend is over?”

  “Don’t you know anybody who could fake it for a weekend?” Park’s eyes pleaded with him. “Dad said we had to get women who know literature.”

  “Tess,” Nick said promptly, and Park groaned.

  “Not Tess. Anyone but Tess.”

  “She probably wouldn’t do it, anyway,” Nick said. “She pretty much stopped talking to me right after I refused to—” He caught himself and stopped. “What have you got against Tess, anyway?”

  “I just hate to see you limiting yourself to one woman. Never limit yourself. That’s why I want you to get the Welch account. New horizons.”

  “I haven’t exactly seen everything I wanted of Tess’s horizons,” Nick said.

  “Tess is no good for you,” Park said. “Women with brains are bad news. They distract you with their bodies and then they—”

  “Tess would be excellent for impressing an author,” Nick said. “She’s an English teacher. She’s involved in all those censorship protests.” He thought back to the last one he’d seen her at, holding a sign that said Pornography Is in the Mind of the Beholder. She’d been wearing a blue sweater, and his mind had leapt instantly to pornographic thoughts, which were the safest thoughts he could have around Tess. She was tactless and undignified and spontaneous and out of control, but there was something about her that kept pulling him back to her, and he hoped to hell it was her body, because if it was anything more, he was in big trouble.

  Park was still on the trail. “Protesting might not be good. Is it legal?”

  Nick slumped back in his chair. “Park, did you pay any attention in law school?”

  “Only to the good stuff. I knew I wasn’t going to be defending protesters.” Park frowned at him. “What do you see in this woman?”

  Nick started to tell him and then stopped. Park would never understand the attraction of Tess’s cheerfully passionate need to save the world, although he would probably understand the attraction of her cheerfully passionate enthusiasm for life, an enthusiasm that swept away everyone she was with until they almost did incredibly stupid things in Music Hall parking lots....

  Back to Park’s question. Stick to the basics. “She has great legs.”

  Park put his hand on Nick’s shoulder and gave him a fatherly pat. “That’s not enough to build a relationship on.”

  “Oh?” Nick said, surprised at this sudden evidence of depth in his friend. “And what is?”

  “Breasts,” Park said, and Nick had the feeling he was only partly joking. “Breasts are very important for women. Their clothes just don’t hang right without them.”

  Nick nodded. “Thanks, Dad, I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Although she does have excellent legs,” Park went on. “Still, you’re better off without—”

  “What were you doing looking at Tess’s legs? I thought you didn’t like her.”

  “Trust me, as soon as she opened her mouth, I stopped looking. What did you do—gag her at night?”

  Nick briefly considered explaining that he’d never spent the night, and then discarded the idea. It would open a whole new conversational distraction for Park, and after his father’s pep talk, Park was distracted enough already.

  Park went back on attack. “You can pull this off for one weekend. Just don’t get Tess to do it. That mouth of hers makes me nervous. She has absolutely no tact, and she always tells the truth no matter who she’s talking to.” He shook his head in disgusted amazement. “Definitely not our kind of people.”

  Nick looked at his friend with resignation. “Why do I get the feeling that if I stick with you, one day I’ll wake up with my hair slicked back, wearing red suspenders and muttering, ‘Greed is good’?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with greed,” Park said. “In moderation, of course. Now, go get a date for this weekend. And remember Welch is an author. She has to have read something besides the society pages.”

  “Really? Then who the hell are you going to bring?” Nick asked.

  “Oh. Good point.” Park frowned. “Can you get me a date?”

  Chapter Two

  “Let me get this straight,” Tess said from her armchair when Nick had finished explaining and the only evidence left of the pot stickers was an empty carton and a tangy memory. “You want me to pretend to be your fiancée in order to deceive one of our greatest living American authors so that you can take another step in your drive toward ultimate yuppiehood.” She thought about it for a minute. “This could be good, I could wear an apron.”

  Nick looked confused. “No, you couldn’t. This is a very ritzy party. Why would you wear an apron?”

  Tess shrugged. “All right, no apron. But it’s your loss.”

  Nick shifted slightly. “Tess, concentrate here. I need to look like somebody who is approaching
commitment. You need to act like somebody I’d commit to. Can you pull this off?” He squinted at her. “Of course you can’t. Why don’t I ever listen to Park?”

  “Because he’s an idiot,” Tess said. “Did he tell you I couldn’t do this? The rat. I know you bonded in college, but haven’t you noticed what a valueless twit he is?”

  “Valueless is a little harsh,” Nick said. “Immature, maybe.”

  “What did he do? Pull you from a burning building?” Tess shook her head. “Lassie wasn’t this faithful to Timmy.”

  “He does all right by me,” Nick said. “And he pulls his own weight with the firm. Park may have his limits, but believe it or not, he’s a genius with contracts. And yes, I owe him. The only reason I’m even with the firm is that Park hauled me in with him.”

  “I understand that,” Tess said patiently. “And I admire your loyalty. But since then you’ve pulled him out of a jam how many times? Don’t you think you’re about paid up here? Especially since he’s trashing your fiancée.” When Nick seemed puzzled, she added, “That would be me, remember?”

  “Right,” Nick said. “At least, I remember when I thought that was a good idea. Look, I haven’t pulled Park out of a jam that many times. And we’re doing all right together. Hell, we could be rich if we nail this Welch account.”

  “You’re already rich,” Tess said. “It’s time to move to a higher plane. Get a new interest. One with values.”

  “I have values.” Nick cast a disgusted look around the apartment. “Besides, if this is the kind of life you get for having values, I’ll pass. This place is a dump. And where the hell did you get those sweats, anyway? They’re older than you are.”

  “Hey,” Tess said, annoyed at having to defend her sweats yet one more time. “I paid for these with honest money at an honest thrift store.” She stuck her chin in the air. “Just because, unlike you and Park, I don’t buy overpriced running togs that I never run in because I might get sweaty—”

  “Wait a minute,” Nick said. “I run.”

  But Tess was already warming to the drama of the moment. “—which would be a waste of the ill-gotten gains I used to buy them—”

  “I object to the ill-gotten gains—”

  “Always a lawyer,” Tess said. “Objection overruled.”

  “Look, we don’t cheat widows and orphans or defend rapists or polluters or do any of those other things you tree huggers are always on about,” Nick fumed. “We’re lawyers, not criminals, for cripe’s sake. Cut me a break.”

  Tess came down from her high horse. “Sorry. I got a little carried away.” She looked at him, biting her lip. “This is like déjà vu. This is every argument we ever had.”

  “I know,” Nick said gloomily. “It was the only good thing about not seeing you anymore. I didn’t have to have this stupid argument.”

  “Well, you don’t have to have it now,” Tess said. “The door is over there. And this engagement would never have worked for us, anyway. You wouldn’t have let me wear an apron, and as the years went by, I would have resented it. Then one day, I’d have picked up a meat cleaver and there we’d be, in the National Enquirer, just like John and Lorena Bobbit.” Nick blinked at her, and she took pity on him and dropped her story. “Well, thanks for stopping by. See you.” She waited for him to get up and leave, feeling absolutely miserable for the first time since the last time she’d left him.

  Nick put his head against the wall and closed his eyes. “I can’t leave. I need you.” He opened his eyes and met hers squarely. “This could get me a partnership, Tess.”

  Tess felt a stab of sympathy for him. “Oh, love. When are you going to stop trying to prove you’re the best? You don’t have to sweat like this anymore. Your picture is on the society page all the time. You’re a Riverbend celebrity. People adore you. You’ve made it.”

  Nick shook his head. “Not till I’ve made partner. I know that in your eyes that makes me an immoral, profiteering, capitalist whoremonger, but I will not be happy until I’ve made partner. I’ve worked a long time for this, and I want it.”

  “I know.” Tess frowned. “What I don’t know is why Park isn’t giving it to you.”

  Nick let his head fall back against the wall again. “Because Park can’t. His father still runs the firm, and Park would walk naked in traffic before he’d confront him or, God forbid, disagree with him. But Park swears his father will retire if we get the Welch account, and then Park can make me partner.”

  Tess was confused. “Why doesn’t his father want to make you partner? You’re brilliant. And you practically run that firm now. This doesn’t make sense. You deserve partner.”

  “His father cares about background,” Nick said stiffly. “Mine is blue-collar. Not the kind of person to be a partner in a Patterson law firm.”

  Tess looked dumbfounded. “You’re kidding. He can’t be that archaic.”

  “Sure he can,” Nick said. “It’s his law firm. He can be anything he wants.”

  Tess slumped back in her chair and considered Nick and what she owed him. The first time they’d met, he’d knocked her on her butt playing touch football, and then sat on her to make her give up the ball, doing terrible Bogart impressions until she’d surrendered because she was weak from laughing. When she broke up with the guy she’d been dating a month later, she’d called Nick trying not to cry, and he’d brought her chocolate ice cream and Terms of Endearment on video, and then kept her company while she sobbed through the movie. And he’d never said anything about the mascara she’d left all over his shirt. And today he’d known she was upset about something and brought her pot stickers.

  On the other hand, he worshiped money and success, and he’d humiliated her by rejecting her in a parking lot.

  They were almost even. But not quite. Because no matter how sure she was that she was finished with him as a romantic possibility —and she was pretty sure, she told herself— he was a friend. If friends needed you, you came through. That was the rule.

  Tess felt the prison doors begin to close on her. “Oh, damn,” she muttered.

  Nick leaned forward and gave her his best smile, the one that made him look boyish and vulnerable. “I have no right to ask you this, but will you do it? For me? Even though you don’t owe me anything?”

  Tess bit her lip. He looked so sweet sitting there. And sexy. Of course, she knew that he knew he looked boyish and vulnerable and sweet and sexy because that was the effect he was going for, but deep, deep, deep down inside, he really was a sweet man. He just had a lousy peer group.

  And if she did it, she’d get to be with him again.

  “Okay, I’ll do it,” Tess said.

  Nick slumped in relief. “Thank God.” He grinned up at her. “I don’t suppose you could get Park a date, too? Somebody respectable?”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Somebody at the Foundation?” Nick said. “Somebody who reads?”

  “I’ll ask around,” Tess said. “I will have to mention that he’s worthless, of course.”

  “Great.” Nick stood up to go. “Listen, if there’s anything I can do for you, just name it. I owe you big for this.”

  “Good. Introduce me to somebody on the board of the Decker Academy.”

  Nick gaped at her. “Why?”

  “I lost my job,” Tess said, and Nick sat down again.

  “I knew something was wrong. I’m sorry, Tess. What happened?”

  “Funding cuts,” Tess said. His sympathy was so unexpectedly comforting that she lost her emotional balance for a moment, but then she took a deep breath and grinned at him. “But it’s all right. I met this really nice man at the last censorship protest.”

  Nick scowled at her. “Do not talk to strange men, dummy.”

  “And we talked for a long time, and he was darling,” Tess said, ignoring his scowl. “And he said if I ever needed a job, to call him, because I was obviously a great teacher.”

  “And this has what to do with the Decker Academy?” Nick
said, still scowling.

  “He’s in charge of it,” Tess said. “His name is Alan—”

  “Sigler,” Nick finished. “He must be sixty. What are you doing flirting with older men?”

  “But I told him I don’t have a teaching certificate. And he said that was bad because the board would have to vote to make an exception in my case, and they weren’t very open to change, so I thought if you knew any of them...”

  “I do,” Nick said thoughtfully. “In fact, a couple of them may be at this Welch thing this weekend. He’s big on upper-class education for some reason.” He frowned at her. “Dress conservatively. These people are not cutting edge.” He thought for another moment, and Tess watched him contemplate her problem, turning it over in his mind, examining it from every angle as if it was something important to his career, instead of hers, and she felt comforted again. “I’ll do what I can,” he said finally. “I just don’t understand why you want to work at Decker. All those rich kids?”

  “The pay is good,” Tess said. “And the school day ends at one o’clock so they can work on special projects or something.”

  Nick snorted. “Country Club 101.”

  “I don’t care. I could be back at the Foundation by one-thirty. A lot of my kids don’t come in for help until then.”

  Nick frowned at her. “Two jobs? What are you trying to do— kill yourself?”

  Tess stuck her chin out. “I can’t leave the Foundation. They need me. The kids need me. I know you don’t understand, but they need me.”

  Nick was silent for a moment. “All right,” he said finally. “Let me see what I can do.” He stood up and then looked down at her, the worry clear in his eyes. “But you have to promise me that you won’t work yourself into the ground if you get this job.”

  Tess bit her lip. “See, this is what makes me crazy about you. Say something materialistic so I can get my guard up again.”

  “Your sweats are awful,” Nick said. “But your face looks like a million dollars.” He bent to kiss her, and Tess felt the little shock of lust he always sparked in her as his mouth covered hers and his tongue tickled her lips. He tasted of pot stickers and beer and Nick, and she smiled against his cheek when he moved his head to bite her earlobe.