“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 the 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 overw
helmed to get. This is the one we want so much that if we have to get married to get it, we will.”
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?”
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—”