The Love Scam

by MaryJanice Davidson, Camille Anthony, Melissa Schroeder

  “Yes, well. You’re an idiot.” She shrugged. “So.”

  Weird (but nice!) how that didn’t sound bitchy, unlike, say, every time Blake said it, starting when they were three and Rake gobbled the green Play-Doh so Blake couldn’t finish the landscaping for his Play-Doh castle. The vomiting had been worth it. Nontoxic, my ass. “G’night, Delaney.”

  “Good night, Rake.”

  Weird. All of it. But not especially troubling, though perhaps it should have been. Frankly, he was too exhausted to fret much longer. He was clean, and full, and (almost) comfortable, and the headache was gone, and the nausea was manageable.

  He was also broke, cut off from his brother (the dictionary definition of a mixed blessing), and had promised to stuff what looked like a thousand Easter baskets over the next few days. And he just couldn’t worry about it much longer, any of it.

  He was asleep in moments, and didn’t dream.

  Eighteen

  If he had to look at another Easter basket, he’d puke.

  “Only five hundred more to go!”

  Rake shuddered and swallowed back the nausea. They’d been loading the SUV for the last hour. Before that, the stuffing. After that, as Sofia had just reminded him, more stuffing. And what was with the pencils?

  “What’s with the pencils?” he asked, following Sofia back into the hotel. “Is that a thing here? Jesus came back from the dead, so the Easter bunny hides eggs and gives out pencils? They’re not even pastel.”

  Sofia giggled. She was teeny, her head coming to the middle of his chest, with masses of bright carrot orange hair that had to make up at least 15 percent of her body weight. She was in a lavender sweatshirt that clashed with her hair, jeggings, and scuffed flats. She’d been delighted with his Italian

  (“Senza offesa, la maggior parte degli americani non sono fluente, anche in inglese.”

  “Nessuna presa. Tutto quello che hai sentito parlare di americani è vero. Noi siamo i peggiori.”*)

  and her chattering should have helped the time pass, but it didn’t.

  “The pencils are for the poor children,” she explained. She had asked if she could practice her English on him, and he’d been happy to oblige. Like virtually every European he’d met, she spoke excellent English while apologizing for what she thought was poor English. “Many people donate school supplies at the beginning of the school year, but this time of year those supplies have been used up.”

  “Oh.” That made sense. He knew that when money had been tight, his mother never bought anything that wasn’t on sale, including school supplies. That was fine in late August. In the spring, not so much.

  “In fact, we should have had more than pencils this time. But some people, they promise and then they take back their promise. So we have to—” She cut herself off and jabbed at the elevator button, and finished as the doors closed. “Never mind. Do not bring that up with Delaney.”

  “Bring what up?”

  She beamed. “Yes, like that.”

  “You and Delaney, you’ve worked together for a while?” Sofia looked to be in her late teens; maybe they went to the same church or something? Volunteered for the same organizations?

  “Oh, yes. Her work is my work.”

  “Partners, huh? You should tell her you want to trade jobs—she can haul baskets and you can hang out in the hotel room, goofing off on social media.”

  “I will always do what Delaney asks of me” came the surprising and emphatic reply. “And she is not ‘goofing off.’”

  “Yeah, yeah, the old ‘social networking is work’ excuse, I’ve heard it before. You should ask for a raise at least.”

  “I would never take her money.” Sofia sounded shocked, as if Rake had suggested they steal Delaney’s panties and throw them in the Trevi Fountain. Dammit! Now he was thinking about Delaney’s panties floating in the Trevi Fountain. “She has given me everything. Even when she was small and had nothing.”

  “Yeah? She must have set up a great dental plan. I mean, I’ve heard of employee loyalty, but you guys commit, you know?”

  “You are a dolt of a man,” she said, not unkindly.

  A minute later, they were back in her (their?) room and he was saying hello to Elena and Teresa, still hard at it, and Lillith, who was elbow-deep in Peeps and furtively chewing while she “helped.” He grinned at her T-shirt (BE YOUR OWN SAFE SPACE. OR BE BATMAN.).

  And while it was great to see that a third of the baskets/candy/Peeps/supplies had been cleared out, it was awful to see that two-thirds remained. Still, there’d be a lot of happy kids on Easter Sunday, though he’d rather have written a check. And speaking of checks, he was that much closer to reclaiming his life, so the morning hadn’t been an entire waste.

  He glanced over at Delaney, working at the desk, and told himself he definitely wasn’t hoping for a smile, or praise, or cash, or a kiss. (Or an antacid.)

  Whoa. Keep it in park, pal. You’ve established this is purely a slave/master relationship, and not the kinky kind.

  “Son of a bitch.”

  He started. Delaney had spoken so quietly, it was more a hiss.

  “Aw, hell, you’re not talking to me, are you?”

  “Fuck.” She looked up. “Sorry, Lillith.”

  “Fanculo,” the child put in helpfully, earning a snort of appreciation from Rake.

  “Are you okay?” Rake asked, partly out of concern, and partly to be doing something, anything, besides more baskets. “Did the hotel change the Wi-Fi password? Try today’s date.”

  Delaney appeared to notice him for the first time. “C’mere.” When he obediently trotted to her side, she turned her laptop around to show him the screen. “D’you recognize these men?”

  He squinted, shook his head. “Never seen them before.”

  “You have, you just don’t remember.”

  “Vermouth is the real villain here.”

  Delaney didn’t smile at his (admittedly lame) joke. “They keep popping up. I don’t like that at all.”

  “Popping up?”

  Delaney was glaring at her laptop. “Lake Como. Yesterday outside the hotel. Then later outside the café, which is why I split us up. And now this morning.” She looked up at the others. “What do you think?”

  “I think it’s like Renner in Sardinia last year. And London two years ago—we simultaneously know too much and too little.” Sofia had crossed her arms in front of her chest and was shaking her head like a disappointed parent. “I think if you try to take them, we might learn something—or nothing, and it gets worse as you’ve forced their hand.”

  “Wait, ‘take them’?” Rake asked, startled. The thought of it made his nausea, which had been in reluctant remission, surge back. And why did the room feel fifteen degrees warmer? “Maybe they’re tourists with the same itinerary. Maybe they’re deeply determined census takers. Maybe we’ve won a contest and they’re waiting for the right moment to hand us that giant cardboard check. Maybe you’re paranoid?” He stifled a burp. “And how many cameras do you have around here? Or are you tapping into the hotel’s feed, you sneak?”

  Meanwhile, the kid had been decorating each of her arms with about half a dozen baskets. “I’m going to take these down to Teresa’s van,” Lillith announced.

  “Hmm? Yeah, okay, hon—give me a minute, I’ll come with.” It was almost certainly warmer, and he had a sudden longing for fresh air. Even if it meant stuffing more Peeps into more baskets and handling those same baskets. Or steering Lillith down the hall, to the elevator, and outside to breathe the sweet air of the loading dock. He turned back to the women. “What about walking up to them and asking them what they want?”

  Sofia snorted something, and he would bet his nonexistent fortune that it was “amateur.”

  “We’ve found it works better if they don’t realize we’ve tumbled to their surveillance,” Delaney said, like this was a regular Tuesday morning for her. Which it clearly was.

  “So then,” Sofia prompted, “watch them watching
us?”

  “Tell me again why we can’t call the—damn, Lillith didn’t wait. I’ll go with her. Don’t confront anybody before I get back!” He was through the door in a couple of strides and hung a left toward the elevators just in time to see a strange man clamp Lillith’s elbow and haul her up so high that she was on her toes.

  Oh hell no. “Hey!” he said sharply, and they both looked. The man’s irritated expression was not lost on him. Neither was Lillith’s look of relief. “Hands off the kiddo.”

  The short, heavyset man with thick curly hair and a dark beard—Rake recognized him from the surveillance vids—loosened his grip but didn’t let go. Instead, he pasted on an ingratiating grin. “Excuse me. I think this young lady might have stolen something.”

  “That’s nice. Leggo my Lillith.” Was it just him, or was the hallway receding? And who was shutting the lights off? “Right now.”

  “Ich bin kein dieb,†” Lillith muttered in— Wait, was that German? She tried to plant her feet but was still on tiptoe. And was the bearded goon—he was! He was dragging her to the elevator.

  Maybe Delaney & Co. aren’t so paranoid. Damn, I hate apologizing. Rake decided it was past time to stop fucking around, and he broke into a clumsy run. “Last chance,” he warned, then grabbed the man’s shirt, yanked him close, and threw up all over him.

  “Jesus Christ!”

  “Warned you,” he managed before passing out.

  Nineteen

  Delaney was talking, but she was at the far end of a cavernous ballroom, God knew why, with her volume set to Murmur. But as she came closer, he was happy to see the room shrink and brighten as the volume came up.

  “‘Don’t confront anybody until I get back.’” She was standing over him with a wry expression. “That’s what you said.”

  “Should’ve taken my own advice,” he managed, then saw she was holding a cold can

  (condensation has never looked wetter or sexier)

  of ginger ale. “I’ll marry you if you give that to me right now.”

  “Yeah, I’m gonna pass on the proposal, but you can have a drink anyway.” She cracked it open and held it for him while he lurched up on his elbows and took greedy, slurping sips. “Easy! You’re just going to throw it up again if you don’t take it easy.”

  “If this is Hell—and I’m almost positive it is—does that make you Satan?”

  “Nope. I’m just a low-level demonic functionary,” she deadpanned.

  “Lillith! Is she okay? Ohhhhhhh,” he moaned, slumping back and slamming his eyes shut. “I sat up too fast.”

  “See? She’s fine. Sofia’s helping her make you a tray.”

  “No trays. No traaaaays. Unless there’s something on it I can use to kill myself, like a thirty-eight. Or enough dental floss to fashion a noose.”

  “No, just crackers and broth. But I have to admit, I’m impressed.”

  He cracked one eye open to look at her. This sounded promising. “Yeah?”

  “I had no idea your superpower was the ability to vomit at will on anyone you confront.”

  “Only in Venice. Where’d the asshole scamper off to?”

  “Are you kidding?” Delaney sounded equal parts amused and admiring. “He was horrified and dripping and got the hell out of there. We were too busy with you to go catch him.”

  “And can I assume calling the cops isn’t an option because of all the secret weirdness and the weird secrets?”

  Delaney stopped smiling and (wonders!) looked uncomfortable. “Yeah, pretty much. We can’t have them looking at us, just like you don’t want the local government to know you’re in town.”

  “Or the Parks and Rec guys.” He had no idea if Italian civil servants held grudges, and no wish to find out.

  “But I don’t like it. And I’m starting to think there’s gotta be a way around it.”

  “Okay, so … figure something out, and is it just me, or do you have tunnel vision, too?” he managed before sleep grabbed him and hauled him under again.

  * * *

  Some amount of time later, he swam back to soupy semiconsciousness, reached out, groped, and accidentally

  “Ow!”

  poked someone in the eye.

  So he opened his. “Oh, Lillith, thank God. If you love me, you’ll kill me. Kill Daddy, please. Right now.”

  “Oh, now you acknowledge me?” She was looking down at him and nibbling her lower lip. “I’m sorry you’re sick. I googled and I think it’s gastroenteritis. That’s why you’re throwing up and have a fever, from jumping—”

  “Falling.”

  “—into sewage and vomit and merda and other yucky stuff.”

  “There’s no need to specify,” he groaned. “You could have stuck with yucky stuff.”

  “Do you want to go to the hospital?”

  “No. I want to die in this bed. Preferably within the next ten seconds.”

  “Because I’ll take you, if you want to go. I know I’m supposed to listen to Delaney, but I don’t care what she says on this one. Not everyone in authority is out to get her family.”

  “Her what?”

  “Shall I take you to a doctor?”

  He blinked at her. Lillith looked as earnest as she sounded as she stared down at him. “How?” He didn’t actually want to go; he was just curious about the process. “You’re little. How would you even get me to an ER?” Borrow a cell phone? Berate one of the others into obeying her command? Steal an ambulance? He felt confident she was capable of all that and more.

  “Don’t know. But I’d think of something.”

  “I believe it.”

  “Thanks for coming to get me.”

  “You should have waited,” he reminded her gently.

  “Yeah. I should have done a lot of stuff. Pulled away. Kicked. Yelled! But I just froze like a manichino.”

  “Or like someone having a perfectly normal reaction to…” He paused, stifled a belch. Waited. Apparently the ginger ale was staying put on a trial basis. “… to stress.”

  “It wasn’t that. I started thinking about Mama and wondering what she’d do. And then I thought maybe I should go with him, try to figure out what they want. Or let him get me outside and yell for help until the polizia came. But before I could make up my mind, you drove him off with your vomit.”

  “Possibly my finest moment,” he agreed with a chuckle.

  He felt her small hand curl into his. “But you didn’t know I was thinking up a plan. And you came to get me anyway.”

  “Yeah, course I did.”

  “So are we friends now?”

  He blinked at her. “Well.” He’d saved her. She was saving him. “Yeah. I suppose we are. Which is a bit of a new thing for me.”

  “How come? You’re nice. And usually rich. You prob’ly have lots of friends.”

  “Fair-weather friends,” he corrected her. “The kind who disappear if they think I’m not picking up the bill. This is gonna sound dumb, but I’d say Blake is probably my best friend.”

  “But you hate him.”

  “No.” He shook his head at her. She looked earnest and focused, like this was the most important conversation of her life; the least he could do was be honest. “No, I complain about him—”

  “A lot.”

  “—occasionally, but I love him and he loves me. If he were here, he’d be kicking ass all over the place on my behalf. And he’s the same way—I’m probably his best friend, though he’d choke before admitting it.”

  “Well, now you have two friends. Right? Rake?”

  “Yes, absolutely. It’s a tiny elite group and you’re now a member in good standing. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  He stifled a yawn. Ginger ale staying inside? Check. Roof over his head, however temporarily? Check. Delaney amused and Lillith safe? Check-check. “Think I’m gonna sleep some more. Don’t go off with any weirdos without coming to get me first.”

  “Define weirdo.”

  He was out before he could oblige.r />
  Twenty

  Later that day

  (night?)

  over a robust meal of clear vegetable broth and stale taralli, Delaney remarked that he looked slightly better than half-dead, which she termed “a remarkable improvement.”

  And it got me out of filling more Easter baskets, which made it almost worth it. Almost. That, he figured, was best kept to himself.

  “Still, I got a lot of work done for you guys before I came to Lillith’s rescue,” he pointed out. “Which also should be worth something. What do bodyguards get paid in this country?”

  “About sixty euros an hour.”

  “You— Whoa.” He was so surprised, he thought he might fall off the bed. “I thought that was rhetorical. Oh my God, so many new questions now. But getting back to me—”

  “Of course. Don’t we always?”

  “—you wanted me to help with your cover, which means I’m probably halfway to a new iPhone at least.” At her glance, he added, “What, I have to provide cover for whatever it is and work for free? I figured I’d use my wages to get a new phone. This can’t be news to you. Besides, don’t you want me off of your hands? Y’know, eventually?”

  “Well…”

  “Can you believe it? I actually can’t wait to call Blake. Blake!”

  “Rake—”

  “This, knowing I’m in for one of his nine-hour lectures on growing up and taking responsibility. Who’d have thought that Italy could make me love cherry tomatoes? And my twin?”

  “Rake, yesterday morning you earned just under a hundred bucks.”

  “Yep. And I’ll be sore tomorrow. Hell, I’m sore now. Mostly from the throwing up, though.” He let out a satisfied sigh, then stretched. “Your family—”

  “Friends. I don’t have any family.”

  “Bullshit, I’ve seen how you interact. You’ve known each other for years, defend each other when not bickering, and you get up to all sorts of criminal mischief together. Literal definition of a family.”