Jennifer Crusie - Faking It

“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.”