by Nicki Elson
Not real. It was a video game, idiot. He should’ve stuck with the plan and only romanced the fully programmed non-player characters. He never should’ve gotten attached to an avatar with a real woman on the other side of it.
As he drew parallel to the pool, he considered following up the whisky shot with an espresso chaser. But he groaned at the thought of the coffeehouse. Trish. “Fuck,” he muttered aloud. JoJo would skip back home and tell Trish all about how she’d just—literally—screwed with Cliff. They ought to have a good cackle over that one.
He wondered if Trish might’ve known about the plot all along. He paused his steps, staring across the eerie water. He knew exactly when Jo had figured out who he was—the night he’d told her about his fight with Trish. She’d known by then he was a lawyer, one clue to his identity, and when Trish had shared her side of the story with Jo, it wouldn’t have been difficult to connect the dots.
Cliff felt taut, like he’d been tied into a tight knot. But as he rolled around the idea that JoAnne might not have realized his identity until partway through the friendship, the knot loosened, and his insides sank. If the beginning of the relationship had been genuine, he’d lost something tonight. JoJo despised Cliff, but maybe Claire had genuinely like Loinderd for a while. He’d certainly liked her. But that was all over now.
He returned to his hotel room less angry than he had been, but still irritated—not sure if it was at her for having tricked him or at himself for having let her. As he went about the room, taking off his clothes and throwing on his pajama bottoms, he spotted a fluff of red on the floor. Claire’s wig. He smiled, thinking of her face right after he’d pulled it off.
Just as he’d remembered from college, she was a lot of fun in bed. Despite his horror in the moment, his orgasm had been stupendous. He combed his fingers through the long, crimson tresses, straightening them before he folded the wig in half and set it on a chair.
“Too bad you weren’t real, my darling.”
Cliff left the hotel late the next morning. Zach picked him up and drove to a lookout point along the coast. They stood on a stony ledge, looking down at sea lions sunning themselves on a jutting rock.
“Figured you’d feel right at home here,” Zach said, his blue eyes sparking with a hint of mischief.
“Why’s that?”
“Because of all the cliffs.”
Cliff groaned. “You’re still punny.”
“Always. So how’d your business in town go?”
“As good as can be expected.”
“I noticed lots of cuties in short skirts and fishnets buzzing about the hotel. Get in on any of the cosplay action?”
Cliff let out a bitter grunt. “I’d rather not talk about it.”
“Whoa, what happened? Did she turn out to be a dude?”
This time Cliff barked out a genuine laugh. “Nothing that bad. But enough about my pathetic tales of amour. How’s married life?”
“As good as can be expected.” Zach grinned. He wasn’t a classically handsome man, but the stocky, balding guy had always had an air of confidence about him that women were drawn to. “Shay’s going to meet us for lunch.”
They left the seals and drove to La Jolla’s trendy shopping district. Strolling past Spanish-influenced architecture and palm trees, they arrived at a Mexican restaurant with views of the sea.
A tall, wispy woman with long, straight, dark blond hair waved from one of the tables on the patio. Cliff recognized her from the wedding as Zach’s wife. She wore the same white-rimmed sunglasses she’d had in Saint Lucia. “Mind eating outside?” she asked.
“Not at all, Shay,” Cliff answered, coming over and giving her a hug as she stood to greet him. “I need to soak up all the California sun I can before heading back to Chicago. Thanks for letting me crash at your place tonight.”
“No problem. It’s all part of my evil plan to get you drunk and learn Zach’s most embarrassing stories from college.”
“You don’t even need to get me drunk for that.” Cliff winked.
“Oh, but it’ll be more fun that way,” Shay said. “They have a killer gin rickey here. I already ordered one for both of you. I’ll drink vicariously.”
Zach grinned as he pulled out the chair next to Shay. As he sat, he took her hand in his. “I was waiting until we were together to tell him.” Turning to Cliff, he said, “Shay’s thirteen weeks pregnant.”
“Congratulations! How’re you feeling?” Cliff asked.
“Great! A little hungry, I guess.” Zach reached into the bowl in the middle of the table, grabbing a handful of spiced nuts.
Shay leaned forward. “And I’m fine, too. But I won’t let him distract you with baby talk. Humiliating stories—now.”
“She just can’t get enough of me,” Zach said between crunching. “Always digging for more info when I’ve told her she already knows everything.” He gave his wife a kiss on the cheek.
Even sitting, it was obvious Shay was a good couple of inches taller than her husband. She had an earthy, peaceful quality about her, while Zach exuded an energetic, cosmopolitan vibe. They weren’t a couple Cliff would’ve ever put together, but they worked, balanced each other out.
“Really? She knows everything?” Cliff asked, cocking a skeptical eyebrow from across the table. “She knows who let the dogs out, then?” He was referring to an absurd performance Zach used to give whenever that particular Baha Men song played.
“She’s seen it, my friend.”
“On multiple occasions,” Shay drawled, shaking her head and smiling.
“Does she know what you never wore under your warrior man-dress during Greek Week—and that dresses were not a requirement?”
“Yup.” Zach was the epitome of nonchalant as he opened his menu. Cliff tossed out a few more ludicrous memories without causing so much as a slight reddening of his friend’s face. Shay nodded along with each one, indicating she knew all about it.
Accepting a short cocktail glass from the waiter, Cliff took a long sip. “Maybe a few more of these will unearth a good story you don’t know.”
“I dunno, bud. She’s done a pretty good job of scouring Chuck’s brain for all he knows.”
“Chuck?” Cliff asked.
“The Big Chuckowski, from Iowa. He’s been in San Diego for the last couple of years.”
Cliff shook his head. “I didn’t know him.”
“No? Well, you will after tonight. He’s having some guys over for poker. You said you play, right?”
“Yeah, I play. Not a shark or anything.”
“You’ve got nothing to worry about with this group,” Shay chimed in. “The only reason I’m not playing is because I feel too guilty about taking all their money last time. Don’t you even try to deny it.” She pointed a teasing finger at her husband, who pretended to nip at it.
The sweet exchange stoked a flame deep inside Cliff. He wanted to find something like what they had. Earlier, he hadn’t let himself acknowledge it, but despite Claire’s declarations of “just once,” he’d harbored a hope that their fling would turn into something more. It sucked to have another potential relationship shattered into oblivion.
Turning her attention to Cliff, Shay said, “You guys can drink as much as you want tonight. I’ll be your designated driver. While you fellas play cards, us girls will hang out in the Gaslamp Quarter.”
“Isn’t she a peach?” Zach asked, nuzzling his short beard against her cheek.
“The peachiest.” Cliff said.
After lunch, the three of them hung out at Zach’s and Shay’s apartment, then drove together to Chuck’s. They pulled up to a tiny ranch-style home with rocks and succulents as landscaping. Inside, they were greeted by a tall, dark-haired guy.
“Chuck, this is Cliff. Cliff, Chuck. Cliff-o also went to Iowa and he’s in Chicago now.”
“Oh, no kidding,” Chuck said, gesturing them inside. “Were you at the Saint Lucia blowout?”
“I was, actually,” Cliff said.
> “So was my wife. She’s out on the screened porch, Shay. And so is the beer. We’ll be playing out there once the ladies clear out.”
Shay headed to the back of the house, and Zach followed. “I’ll grab us a couple, Cliff-o.”
While Cliff wondered where the new nickname had come from and how he could best fend it off, Chuck broke into his thoughts. “I got stuck here on business, so I couldn’t make it to the wedding, but it sounds like you guys had a lot of fun.”
California…husband stuck at home on business…Cliff’s brain hunted for the significance of these two things. Before he could put it all together, Zach returned alone, holding two bottles. His spacious forehead was blanched at least two shades paler than it’d been before he’d gone outside.
“Ya could’ve given me some warning that she was here.” Zach shot an accusing glare at Chuck.
“What’s the problem?” Chuck asked.
“I banged her at Iowa,” Zach hissed in a low voice. “And now she’s going out for a night of girl talk with my wife.”
Cliff smiled. “Aha, so we’ve hit upon a story Shay doesn’t know.”
“What’s the big deal?” Chuck asked. “Weren’t you all in Saint Lucia together?”
“Yeah. And the fact that I didn’t clue her in then will only make Shay all suspicious if anything comes up tonight.”
“Why don’t you just tell her right now, then?” Chuck suggested, wearing a cheeky grin.
“Shut it,” Zach said out the side of his mouth as feminine voices approached the sliding glass door.
Three women stepped into the house: Shay, Amy—whom Cliff recognized as the cute blonde from Sammie’s wedding—and…
Oh, shit.
JoJo.
Chapter 13
CLIFF ONCE AGAIN LOOKED into JoAnne’s widened eyes. This time, she covered her shock quickly, pressing a mild smile onto her lips and shifting her gaze to Chuck, the only guy in the room she hadn’t gotten naked with—as far as Cliff knew.
Amy wasn’t as suave. She half coughed upon seeing Cliff and shot a glance at Jo before looking back at him. “Well, guess we all know each other. I mean…because of Saint Lucia. That’s all I meant. Did you meet Chuck?”
Chuck hitched a cheek in confusion as he watched his wife babble. Her discomfort told Cliff she knew all about the stunt Jo’d pulled the night before. This was a disaster. He’d wanted to tell her off the night before, but now that they were surrounded by friends, he felt paralyzed. But he had to do something to stop her from informing the world of what a fool she’d made of him.
“Yeah, we met,” Cliff said, then forced his gaze back onto Jo. “I’m glad we ran into each other again. Can we talk for a sec?”
She tensed her eyes in apprehension but nodded, keeping her lips pressed into a straight line. In a short, flowered sundress under a cropped denim jacket, she was dressed for a fun night out, not a confrontation with a conquest. Cliff gestured toward the front door and followed her as she moved out of the house.
He shut the door, giving privacy as they stood amid the rocky front garden. They stared at each other in silence. Wearing a pair of high, chunky wedges, she was still inches shorter than him. He’d expected her to give off a sense of triumph, but she looked anxious, almost afraid.
“I’m not looking to start a fight,” he said at last, “and I congratulate you on your success in duping me. I’m sure I had part of that coming, but you took the joke too far.”
“The joke?” Her eyes tightened.
“I apologized in Saint Lucia for not remembering you. If you still had a problem with me, you should’ve taken it up with me then instead of coming up with this elaborate ruse.”
“What the hell are you talking about? What ruse?”
“Pretending to be PlanetClaire. Getting me to the hotel room. I’m not an idiot.”
She closed her eyes for a long moment, her mouth dropping open while her eyebrows lifted, her head slightly shaking as if she were sorting her thoughts. Slowly, she lifted her lids. The gray of her irises raged like a stormy sea.
Cliff’s indignation flamed. She had no right to still be pissed off. “At what point did you figure out it was me?” he demanded.
“The same point when you figured out it was me, asshole.” She crossed her arms in front of her, her breasts pushing together and up in the process.
Cliff fought to keep his eyes off her bulging cleavage. “I didn’t know it was you until we pulled off the masks.”
She widened her eyes and gave her head a small shake in a “no shit” gesture. “And when do you think I figured it out?”
“I don’t know—that’s what I’m asking.”
“I told you. I figured it out when you did. You thought I knew it was you before we got there?”
“You didn’t?” Cliff felt unsteady, as if he was precariously balancing on the point of one of the cactus spikes next to him.
“Why would I have gone through with it if I knew it was you?”
“To get back at me? For not remembering you from college?” His loss of conviction made his statements come out more like questions.
“Oh, my God! Really?” Her arms flew out to her sides, her fingers stretched to their limits as her hands flailed. “You think I plotted a revenge fuck?”
Just then, another car pulled up to the curb in front of the house. Jo repositioned her arms under her chest. Three guys got out of the car. As they walked toward the front door, Jo and Cliff exchanged awkward hellos with them.
After the guys had disappeared inside, Jo spoke in a harsh whisper. “You think the only way I could’ve gotten you back into bed was to trick you? Trust me, if I’d wanted to seduce you, I’d have had done it as myself and you’d have come crawling on your knees, begging for it.”
“So, you’re really Claire? That wasn’t all pretend?”
“I’m really JoJo.”
“And you were just as mortified as I was when we took off the masks?”
“Surprised is the word I’d have used. But thanks for letting me know you found the whole experience mortifying.” She spun on her heel and stomped toward the door.
“Jo, wait.”
She stopped, turning halfway toward him.
He had to say it before he lost his chance: “Please don’t say anything about this to Trish.”
Her face went rigid, as if he’d just slapped her. Without another word, she turned and walked into the house. Cliff waited a few beats before following.
Inside, both he and JoAnne pulled on smiles. But by the tentative glances exchanged between the others, he could tell none of them believed their false cheeriness. Cliff didn’t get a chance to process what had just happened until after the women had left and the guys were knee-deep in cards and poker chips. Conversation was minimal, mostly grunts and the few words necessary to carry out the game.
He tried to keep his mind on strategy, but his thoughts inevitably turned to Jo. He couldn’t win with that girl. Every time they talked as Cliff and JoAnne, things went wrong. Now she had a whole new reason to hate him. He’d not only accused her of playing a dirty trick, he’d told her he was disgusted by the thought of being with her. And then instead of apologizing, he’d reinforced his distaste by asking her not to tell Trish.
He tossed in his ante, taking an odd comfort in the familiar dull clinking of the plastic chips. It was crazy that they’d gotten along so well as Loinerd and PlanetClaire. Too bad they hadn’t left it at that…though he couldn’t honestly say he regretted the lusty night of lovemaking now that he knew it hadn’t been a setup.
Cliff caught an afternoon flight out of San Diego International the next day. Settling into an aisle seat several rows back, his attention was caught by a curvy figure a few rows ahead lifting on tiptoes to shove her suitcase into the overhead bin. After some struggling and shifting, she seemed satisfied. Jo kept her eyes cast downward as she turned toward her seat, giving Cliff the impression she’d spotted him, too, and purposely avoided any possibility
of eye contact.
Awesome, he thought. Now two women in Chicago can’t stand the sight of me.
The twists and turns in the legal thriller he read kept his mind occupied during the flight, but he occasionally found his eyes wandering toward Jo’s seat. He could barely see the tips of the stumpy ponytail she’d pulled to the top of her head. He knew he owed her another apology but wasn’t sure it was worth trying to give. One thing he knew about her was that she was stubborn—and could hold a grudge like nobody’s business. Anything he said would likely be met by more hostility.
He exited the plane, and as he made his way through the terminal, he noticed Jo several yards ahead of him. With his longer stride, he’d soon overtake her. As he drew closer, he watched her wrestle with her wheeled carry-on. It tipped sideways whenever the straps of her overstuffed tote slipped off her shoulder and jerked her elbow.
In three swift steps, he came up beside her and pulled the long handle of her suitcase from her hand. She jumped, causing her bag to once again slide down her arm. She scowled at him, pulling the straps up to her shoulder. When she reached for her luggage, he lowered the adjustable handle and lifted it to carry alongside him while he pulled his own suitcase. She stepped quickly to stay even with him while faster walkers veered around them on the wide walkway.
“I’d like my bag back, please.” Her voice was flat.
“You’ll get it once you hear me out. Mortified was the wrong word. I was surprised and that turned into pissed off when I thought you’d conned me. But now that I know the truth, I can see why my accusation was insulting, and I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry—I won’t tell Trish. Can I have my stuff back now?”
“I’m not saying this just so you won’t tell her. I really am sorry. And I’m sorry I made it seem like the only thing I cared about was Trish knowing—that doesn’t even matter. She and I aren’t exactly friends anymore.”
“I heard.”
They reached the end of the terminal, where they were met by overhead signs directing them to transportation. “How are you getting home?” Cliff asked.