You would never think of marrying a man like that just to secure your own comfort?
—Pride and Prejudice
If my friends had wanted to make a show of their newfound poverty they had outdone themselves. And there I was, having canceled my dinner plan with Scott to help my friends prep the house, standing alongside Emma and Clive and admiring our handiwork. We had “decorated” for the occasion. Gone were the pristine white rugs and sofas, gone was the home theater system, gone was the pricey espresso maker Clive had been cleaning that morning, and in their places were folding chairs and milk crates, a boombox and CDs from the 1980s and 1990s, and Styrofoam cups for beer and wine with Ritz crackers laden with cheese spread and gherkins. Where the light fixtures had been, bare bulbs and exposed wires hung, casting the normally artfully lighted space in gloom.
“You really didn’t have to cancel your dinner for us,” Emma said and put her arm around me, which meant she was glad I had done just that.
“Are you kidding? I know only too well what it feels like to lose your home, remember? Besides, this was much more fun than dinner at the Wolesley or whatever the place was called,” I said happily. “I just wish there was more I could do to help.”
Clive and Emma exchanged knowing looks. “Ah, the Wolesley is one of the most glamorous restaurants in London. Teeming with celebs,” Clive pointed out.
I shrugged. “Scott said he’d drop by here. It’s better this way. I can help you guys with the party. Anyway, it makes me look mysterious and not desperate.”
“Ah yes, very wise thinking, Mrs. Bennet,” Emma said and we both burst out laughing.
“I’m just thinking of darling Elizabeth,” I said in a fit of laughter.
“You girls are too much.” Clive grinned.
As it turned out, Clive was right. We were too much—at least for a man of Scott’s stature. He arrived with the party in full swing and seemed unimpressed by our decorating.
“Your friends have quite the sense of humor,” Scott commented wryly. I gulped. Clive was across the room opening a bottle of wine. I waved at him. He galloped over and stuck his hand out for Scott. He was stupid-drunk.
“Is this the man of the hour?” he slurred. “Scott, I’m Clive. Kate has told us much about you.” Clive winked at me. “Welcome to what was once my home.”
Scott shook his hand good-naturedly and wasn’t squeamish when Clive handed him a Styrofoam cup.
“You want red or white?” Clive asked with a grin. “Now that we’re poor we no longer distinguish between cabernet and shiraz or pinot grigio and sauvignon blanc. It’s just color codes.”
“Red will do fine.” Scott smiled politely.
“White for me,” I said and searched the room for Emma. I found her standing by the living room wall where the plasma television once hung, with a box in her hand.
“I want you to meet Emma,” I said and, grabbing Scott’s hand, led the way through the crowd. As we got closer I saw what she was up to. She and a handful of revelers had each chosen a large Magic Marker from the box and were drawing graffiti on the walls. I stood in shock. Emma spotted me and laughed.
“Don’t look so scared, Kate.” She laughed, then nudged me. “If the bank is going to take the house, they can bloody well take the autographed copy!”
Clive dashed over to us and grabbed a black marker to scrawl his name illegibly in all directions.
“Woohoo!” he shouted gleefully as he wrote in huge strokes. “I haven’t had this much fun since I made that one-point-six-million bonus in 2005.”
I looked at Scott to see how he was taking my friends’ rash behavior. He stood stock-still and sipped his wine and shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. What must he be thinking? He was still successful and had been good with his money. Why had I brought him here to witness Clive and Emma’s downfall?
“I’m going upstairs to grab my handbag,” I whispered in his ear. “Then we can go somewhere else, if you’d like.”
He nodded gravely. “Yes, let’s do that.”
I left him and was navigating the sea of drunken partygoers to the foot of the staircase when I felt someone grab my arm. Of course it was Griff. I kept walking up the steps, but he followed me.
“I was hoping I’d find you here,” he said with surprising warmth. “Emma told me you turned down your date with Scott to help her clear the house. That was nice of you.”
“She’s one of my best friends,” I said. “Of course she matters more than a date.”
“Of course.” He nodded. “Look, I want to apologize.”
“I should apologize to you,” I said, cutting him off. “I’m sorry I offended you last night.”
“Don’t worry. Though I must admit that you looked rather fetching in the Daily Mail,” he went on.”
“Thanks, I guess,” I said, shaking my head.
“Tabloids usually only run shots of famous people, not …”
“Not nobodies like me?” I said, annoyed, and stood with my arms folded, one step above him.
“That’s not exactly what I meant. But in general, yes, I thought they would overlook you, but I should have known that you’re not the sort of woman that one overlooks.”
“That’s generous, coming from you,” I said and allowed a hint of a smile to creep across my face.
“I mean you’re a walking calamity, half the time falling into manure or picking up Russians mobsters …”
My smile quickly vanished and my expression turned to stone. “Quit while you’re ahead, Griff,” I said and marched to my bedroom door. “Charm is dangerous in a man like you.”
“And one more thing,” he said and followed me.
“Yes?” But before I could say another word he grabbed me and kissed me. Ding, ding, ding, the alarm went off inside my body once more. I squirmed but he kept kissing me and I stopped fighting it. It felt perfect.
“I’m not gay,” he said playfully as he pulled away and leapt down the stairs.
“You don’t have to prove it!” I shouted after him but I could feel my lips curl into a wide smile.
I went to my room and sat on my bed. I couldn’t stop smiling. Now what? On the one hand, how dare he grab me like that! Why did he care if I thought he was gay? Even if he was a good kisser, what difference did it make to him or me? The only man who should kiss me was Scott. On the other hand, there was no denying there was a connection between us, no matter how unlikely that seemed. When I thought of how recently he’d entered my life I was amazed at how we had become close, in an odd and antagonistic way, but close nonetheless. I shoved all of my valuables into the closet and locked it. By the time I came back downstairs I noticed that Griff and Clive were huddled together conspiratorially. Wanting to avoid another encounter I sought out Emma for my good-bye. By this point she was in the kitchen spreading peanut butter on cheese crackers.
“Pregnancy craving?” I asked and put my arms around her. “I hate to leave so early but Scott wants to go.”
She nodded and licked the knife clean. “Are we past his bedtime?” she said, then looked aghast. “Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it.”
I waved her off. “Don’t worry.” I grinned, hoping to soften the fact that I was making such a quick exit. “I’ll be back later.”
I found Scott, who was hovering by the front door. We jumped into his limo and peeled away.
“That was quite the party,” he said and smiled politely. I smiled back but I was tired of smiling, of being polite, and of rules. I threw my arms around Scott and kissed him because I wanted to and because I needed to erase the taste of Griff from my mouth. And I’m pleased to say he kissed back.
To hell with rule number one. Two hours later I was lying in Scott’s hotel bed with a newfound knowledge of what sex with a sixty-year-old was like—more spa treatment than earth shaking. To my disappointment, unlike those close encounters back in Florida and Switzerland, there had been a total lack of ding, ding, ding alarm bells. Clearly Griff’s kiss had shaken me up. But who needed hot? I couldn’t have everything. Even I knew that. I got out of bed and took my BlackBerry into the washroom and sent Fawn a text message.
“We did it. Sorry, I know I broke the rule.”
I didn’t have to wait long for an answer.
“Honey, if you want my help, you have to listen to me. Oh well, we’ll do damage control tomorrow. I’m pleasantly occupied at the moment.”
This last bit made me giggle, and even though it was very late, I decided on giving her one final bit of pertinent information.
“And btw, Griff’s not gay.”
Sure enough, she responded in seconds.
“I’m afraid to ask how you found out.”
“I have my ways.”
“Careful, Kate. He’s just the sort of man to mess up your plan.”
“Never fear. I can take care of Griff Saunderson.”
And then I turned off my BlackBerry and went to bed, not quite so sure I could take care of Griff.