Call Me! (24 page)

“I’VE GOT BOMBSHELL news!” I announce, thirty minutes later.

Sophie comes running in from the kitchen.

“Spill!” she says.

I point to my computer screen. “Want to see what Roy looks like?”

She jumps onto the couch and moves as close to me as she can get.

“That’s him in college?”

“It is. But you know what?”

“What?”

“This isn’t the Roy I met.”

“Well, he’s probably changed. I mean, it’s been how many years?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

She cocks her head and gives me a curious look. “Why not?”

“Ben’s college roommate, the real Roy Burroughs, died in a car crash ten years ago.”

Sophie grins. “The plot thickens!”

I give her a look. “How long have you been waiting to say that?”

“Since the day we met, and you told me you were a private eye.”

I laugh.

Sophie says, “So this proves I’m right? About Ben being the biggest jerk in the world?”

“It does. Ben found someone to play Roy, and fabricated the whole college story so I wouldn’t be suspicious.”

“Do you think the fake Roy was hoping to blackmail Ben?”

“Either that, or Ben intended to use the photos as insurance.”

“Insurance for what?”

“To make sure I gave him permission to sell the book. Of course, that would mean Ben knew I was doing decoy work. And I find that hard to believe, since it never came up.”

“You know what I think?” Sophie says.

“It’s time to call Ben?”

“Exactly.”

I put the battery back in the phone and press a button. Sophie says, “I can’t believe he’s number one on your speed dial instead of me.”

“Oh, stop!” I say, laughing.

Ben answers with “Where the hell
are
you? I’m sick as a
dog
!”

“You didn’t look sick on TV, talking about your
book
.”

“Well. About that—”

I interrupt with, “How’s Roy?”

He skips a beat before responding. “What are you
talking
about?”

“Roy, your college roommate.”

“What about him?”

“I was surprised to learn he’s been
dead
for ten years.”

Ben goes silent a minute. Then says, “What else do you know?”

“I know you set me up with him and Carter Teague.”

“How the hell do you know Carter? And what do you mean, set you up?”

My turn to pause. “Carter Teague? The woman Roy hired?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Hired for what?”

“Never mind.” I cover the phone and whisper, “The decoy job was Roy’s idea.” To Ben I say, “Let’s talk about your book.”

“What about it?”

“You can’t publish without my consent. It’s my story.”

“We’re married. You’ll get half the proceeds. For doing absolutely
nothing
by the way.”

“You planned this whole thing. You lived with me all this time, knowing you were going to sell me out.”

“Give me a break, Dani. You lived with me all this time knowing you were going to leave me. You tried to talk other women into having an affair with me! And I had to give you two nights a week outside the marriage, no questions asked? Are you
insane
? Of
course
I wanted to benefit from this stupid, one-sided marriage.”

“I’ll admit I’ve been a rotten wife for more than a year. But I wouldn’t have called our marriage stupid.”

He sighs. “I’m not without guilt in our marriage.”

“What do you mean?”

“I married you, knowing you didn’t love me.”

“I loved you back then.”

“I doubt that’s true, though I certainly loved you enough for both of us. But I took advantage of your confusion. I was selfish.”

“Where’d you find Roy?”

“He’s a drama professor at Riverton.”

Riverton College was Ben’s employer before we met. They fired him when Erica’s affair became a
YouTube
sensation.

“I thought you didn’t have friends at Riverton,” I say.

“He’s not a friend. But he owed me a huge favor. And he’s a good actor, don’t you think?”

“What’s the huge favor you did for him?”

“He was sleeping with the dean’s wife.”

“So?”

“I knew, but kept it quiet.”

“Why’s that such a big favor?”

“I saved his job. And it was a very hard secret for me to keep.”

“Why?”

“This is the same dean who fired me because my wife became famous for cheating on me. It would’ve been fun to tell him his wife was cheating on him.”

“How much did you pay this drama professor?”

“I gave him my life’s savings. Eight thousand dollars. As a guarantee.”

“Against what the tabloids were willing to pay?”

“That’s right. I gambled my entire future on this book.”

“And you’re willing to sell me out, and turn my life into a media circus?”

“Only because I thought—and still think—it could bring us together again.”

“But if not, you’re willing to cash in.”

“Dani? My heart has always been in the right place where you’re concerned.
You’re
the one making plans to leave. But yes, faced with a life without you, it would be nice to have something positive in my life to fall back on.”

“I want to read the manuscript before you sign a contract.”

“I can arrange that.”

He pauses, then says, “Are you coming home?”

“Email the manuscript to me.”

“It’s on the way. Are you?”

“Not today.”

“Soon?”

“I don’t know.”

“YOU STARTED STRONG, but ended meek,” Sophie says. “What happened in the middle?”

“He made me feel sorry for him.”

She shakes her head. “You’re a helluva good person.”

“If I were a good person, none of this would’ve happened.”

“I won’t even bother to dissect that comment. Is he sending you his manuscript?”

I smile.

“What?”

“I like how you said that.” I imitate her, saying, “I won’t even bother to dissect that comment.”

“I don’t sound like that,” she says. Then asks, “Can I read Ben’s book?”

“Of course.”

Moments later the manuscript shows up in an attachment. I download it and forward a copy to Sophie. She’s in the recliner, I’m on the couch. We both have our laptops.

“Shall we?” I say.

“I’ll race you!” she says.

We pause for lunch, a bathroom break, and order Chinese food for delivery. I note Sophie has known me only a year, but managed to order what I like—steamed rice and vegetables, with garlic sauce—without having to ask.

After dinner, unlike Ben, Sophie makes a big production out of opening our fortune cookies.

“Omigod!” she squeals, after reading hers. “Check this out!” She holds it up to my face. It reads,
You will find happiness with a close friend
!

We look at each other and smile.

“Well done, Sofe!”

“Read yours!” she says.

I do, and laugh.

“What?” she says.

I hand it to her. She reads it out loud. “
You
will find happiness with a close friend
!

She says, “Omigod! What are the chances we’d both get the same one?”

I say, “There are two more cookies in the bag. What are the chances they’ll say the same thing?”

“I don’t want to know what they say. I’m happy with these.”

I reach into the bag, open one of the others.

“Go ahead, Sophie says.”

I read, “
Please send help! I’m being held prisoner in a Chinese bakery
!”

“That is such an old joke!” she says, and grabs the other one and pretends to read “
You will be hungry again in one hour
!”

“That is so lame!” I say.

We laugh and exchange the fortunes and learn that, sure enough, all four offer happiness with a close friend.

“You still think this was an error in packaging?” Sophie says.

“I know it was. But I like it.”

“We’re going to have to work on this, you and me.”

“Work on what?”

“The fact you’re not romantic.”

“Not true,” I say.

“I love you, Dani, but you’re not
even
romantic.”

“Am too!”

“Give me one example,” Sophie says.

“I put your perfume on my hand.”

“Well…”

“I wear silly pajamas because you like them.”

“I thought
you
liked them!”

“I like them when I’m with you.”

“Okay, that’s romantic,” she says.

“And there’s more,” I say.

Before she responds, I head for her garage. When I come back in, I’m carrying a small ladder. I set it up next to her bookcase and climb three steps.

Using my best school girl voice, I say, “Miss Alexander? I can’t seem to find the blue book. What should I do?”

Sophie laughs.

I make a point to shake my butt while pretending to search for the book.

“Oh, my God,” she says, laughing even harder. “Those pajamas!”

I look down at her. “Which is better, plaid skirt or silly pajamas?”

“Plaid skirt.”

“Too bad I don’t have one.”

“I do,” she says.

“Sofe,” I say. “
Seriously
?”

She laughs. “I’ve got a closet full.”

“A closet full?”

“Well, a section of my closet, if we’re being technical.”

“All school girl uniforms?”

“Of course not! What do you think, I’m weird or something?”

I laugh. Doing my best to imitate her voice, I say, “I won’t even bother to dissect that comment.”

She frowns. “That’s twice. You really think I sound like that?”

“In my head? Yes, absolutely. But no matter who I’m imitating, what comes out my mouth always sounds like Meg, from Hercules.”