Jennifer Crusie - Faking It

“It’s living .” Michael leaned forward. “It’s not sitting around wishing you were living and denying what you were born for. It’s not shilling for the freaking FBI.” He shook his head at Davy. “You miss it. Don’t tell me you don’t. What are you doing for the kick these days, Davy my lad? Picking daisies?”

“Okay,” Davy said. “Back off on the Goodnights. And in Gwen’s case that means literally. She’s got a steady guy with money who’s getting serious. Stay away.”

“Ah, that’s not for her,” Michael said. “Women like Gwen Goodnight do not go for steady men.”

“She deserves somebody she can count on,” Davy said. “That is not you.”

“She deserves a damn good time,” Michael said. “That’s most definitely me. Besides, she can’t count on anybody. Nobody can. You’re born alone and you die alone, Davy. So you better know yourself, because you’re the only one who ever will.”

“I know myself,” Davy said grimly, “and I’m happy.”

“After all I’ve taught you,” Michael said sadly. “How many times did I tell you, the guy to beat at the table is the one who doesn’t know what makes him weak and what makes him strong. And now look at you, pretending you’re someone else, shirking your gift.” He shook his head. “Good thing for you I showed up.”

“Oh, yeah,” Davy said. “We’re all thrilled when you show up. I have news for you. I’m not playing the game anymore, and neither are Sophie and Amy.”

“Then you’re not living,” Michael said. “I’d worry, but I know you too well. You’ll be back. You need the edge.”

“Did you come here for a specific reason?” Davy said. “Or just to piss me off?”

“I’m on my way to see my grandson,” Michael said, settling back.

Davy thought of the hell Michael could make for Sophie, her peace shattered, her reputation ruined in a small town that never forgot anything, not to mention the monetary damage he could do when he sang his song to her. “No you are not.”

“A man is entitled to see his grandson,” Michael said, expanding a little. “Sophie would want me there. I hear she named him after me.”

“She named him Dempsey, which is not specifically you. And you are staying out of her way, the same way I do. She has a good, law-abiding life and she doesn’t need us screwing it up for her.” He stood up. “The fun’s over. You’re leaving now.”

“I thought we’d both go,” Michael said, not getting up. “This weekend. Family reunion. You could keep me in line.” He smiled at Davy cheerfully. Too cheerfully.

“You don’t know where she is,” Davy said, relaxing.

“Of course I do,” Michael said. “She’s here in Ohio.”

“It’s a big state,” Davy said. “You wouldn’t think so, but it is. Have a nice time searching it.”

“I’ll find out,” Michael said. “Good God, boy, it’s not like I mean her harm. I love her. She’s her mother all over again. And she has my first grandchild. I want to see the boy, see the men my girls married.”

He said it with such sincerity that Davy was impressed. “You lie through your teeth and you make it sound like ‘Danny Boy.’ I’m amazed they ever got enough on you to arrest you.”

“Technically they didn’t,” Michael said. “It was a bum rap. And I’m telling the truth. I want to see this boy.”

“This boy was born a year ago.” Davy folded his arms and stared down at his father grimly. “Your girls were married three years ago. You’re looking for cold cash, a warm bed, and a hot meal in a place the law won’t find you, and once you get there you’ll scam somebody, and it’s a little town and everybody will know, and Sophie will be humiliated. And here’s some news that may not have trickled down: Amy married a cop. I know this guy. He is not sentimental. He will not think you’re a colorful old grandpa. If there’s a warrant out for you, he will can your ass without blinking.”

“You have such a cynical view of human nature,” Michael said thoughtfully.

“Gee, wonder why,” Davy said, feeling like a thirteen-year-old even as he said it.

“It was that woman,” Michael said. “I warned you about her.”

“What woman?” Davy said, legitimately confused.

“That Cleopatra blonde,” Michael said. “That one you had in L.A. She had you so roped you couldn’t have scammed a Sunday school. She was the worst thing for you. She made you bitter.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Davy said, surveying him. “There’ve been darker influences.”

“Where is she now?” Michael said. “Still married to that anchor guy she dumped you for?”

“No,” Davy said. “She killed him. Then she married somebody else and killed him, too.”

“I’m not surprised,” Michael said. “So where is she now?”

“Here,” Davy said. “Stalking her third.”

“I knew it.” Michael sat back. “You’re still chasing her.”

“No,” Davy said. “I’m chasing my money. She has it.”

“That was careless of you,” Michael said. “Leave her alone. Make some more.”

“I’d rather get my old stake back, thanks,” Davy said. “It’s-”

“You know, this place is not bad.” Michael looked around the room. “That gallery, it’s a sweet setup. You could do some damage here.”

“No,” Davy said, trying to forget that he’d thought the same thing. “This is legit. And the Goodnights are another family you will not be ruining.”

“So what are you doing here?” Michael said.

“They’re my way to Clea,” Davy said. “She needs them, and I can use them to get to her.”

“That’s my boy,” Michael said. “So which one are you spending nights with? The kid’s too young, and Gwennie’s keeping company with a steady guy. That leaves the brunette with the glasses.” He nodded. “Not bad. My guess is, she’s not stupid and she won’t fold in a pinch. Nice ass, too.”

“I’ve never liked you,” Davy said.

Michael’s shoulders shook, which for him was roaring laughter. “I missed you, boy.”

“I didn’t miss you.” Davy walked over to the door and opened it. “And now you’re leaving.”

“I don’t think so,” Michael said, looking around. “This is a nice room.”

“It’s Simon’s,” Davy said. “And he makes full use of it.”

“So where are you sleeping?” Michael got up, and then nodded. “Right. With the glasses. And Gwennie has a stable guy.”

“Which means there’s no room in the inn.” Davy pointed to the hall. “Out.”

Michael ambled toward the door. “I think we should go next weekend,” he said as he passed Davy. “I think-”

Across the hall, Dorcas opened her door. “I’m painting over here,” she said, fixing Davy with her glare.

“An artist,” Michael said, shaking his head at her in admiration. “And we broke your concentration. A thousand apologies.”

“One’s enough,” Dorcas said. “That and shutting up.”

“The artistic temperament,” Michael said. “Fascinating. Could I see your work?”

Dorcas blinked at him.

“Dorcas, this is my father,” Davy said. “He’s a liar, a cheat, and a seducer of women, and he’s looking for a place to stay. Avoid him at all costs.”

“Michael Dempsey,” Michael said, taking her hand. “Dorcas. Lovely name. It means ‘lily’ in Gaelic.”

“It means ‘gazelle’ in Greek,” Dorcas said, but she didn’t take her hand back, and Davy thought there might actually be color in her cheeks. She nodded toward Davy. “Is he telling the truth about you?”

“Sadly, yes,” Michael said, smiling at her. “I am completely without redeeming value.”

Dorcas smiled back at him.