Welcome to Temptation/Bet Me

by Jennifer Crusie

  Even so she asked Rachel to get her some green paint for Saturday, something that matched the leaves in the wallpaper. “I just want to see one room done before I go,” she said, and on Saturday they papered halfway up on the other walls and added two apple green stripes for a border, and then painted all the woodwork and cabinets apple green, too.

  “It’s pretty,” Rachel said, when they were done. “I didn’t think it would be, but it is.” She began to pack the empty cans and used brushes into a garbage bag.

  “Yeah, it is,” Sophie said, and then pulled herself together. “Have you heard from Leo?”

  “Oh, yeah, he calls every day, but it’s always about business, and what’s going on here. I mean, he never says he misses me.”

  “Rachel, if he calls every day to talk about business, he misses you. There is no business in Temptation.”

  “Well, he’s not saying, ‘Rachel, honey, come out to L.A., I need you.’ ”

  “You may be asking for too much,” Sophie said.

  “Just a job. I’d be a great personal assistant.”

  “Oh, just a job,” Sophie said, feeling sorry for Leo.

  “It’d be a great job and I’d get out of here.” Rachel dropped into a kitchen chair and surveyed her green-stained manicure. “My mother is driving me nuts because of all the rumors about you and Phin. That’s why she keeps dropping by here. That and to see Zane.” Rachel rolled her eyes.

  “Rumors,” Sophie said, feeling the chill again.

  “The town knows you’re doing it,” Rachel said, and then added hastily, “Phin hasn’t been bragging or anything or taking you to dinner to show you off. It’s not his fault, he’s kept you real quiet.”

  Yes, he has, Sophie thought, and then kicked herself for feeling wounded. She hadn’t wanted to go to dinner anyway.

  “But my mom is hipped on me marrying him so she hates you,” Rachel finished. “That’s why she keeps showing up here.”

  “Oh. Well, tell her she can stay home. Phin’s lost interest. Doesn’t call, doesn’t write, what the hell.”

  “That can’t be right,” Rachel said frowning. “Phin’s not like that. He’s a gentleman. He wouldn’t just walk off. And he really wants you. The last time I saw you guys together, he looked like he was going down for the third time.”

  “Well, his mother threw him a rope,” Sophie said, getting mad just thinking about Liz and the rest of the insiders.

  “You should talk to him,” Rachel said. “He’ll probably be at the Tavern tonight. You should go.”

  “Maybe,” Sophie said, wanting to see him again, which was too pathetic for words.

  “Definitely you should go,” Rachel said.

  Outside, thunder rumbled in the distance.

  “Okay,” Sophie said.

  Back in town, Phin flipped over the closed sign and thought about Sophie. Davy had made it acidly clear when Phin had called that Sophie never wanted to see him again, and when he remembered the things he’d said to her on the dock, Phin could understand that. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t seduce her back to him if he could just get her alone. Maybe he could drug Davy—

  Somebody knocked on the glass door, and Phin turned to see Zane. Since it was unlikely that Zane had felt a sudden need to read, Phin opened the door with fair assurance that he was about to be the focus of Zane’s next dumbass move to get Clea back.

  “Heard you had a pool table,” Zane said. “That’s my game.”

  This should be good, Phin thought, and said, “Table’s in the back.”

  Zane went past the table, picked up a cue and sighted down the length of it, scowling, then put it back and picked up another, settling on one wrapped with red tape.

  “They’re all good,” Phin said. “But that’s the break cue.”

  Zane nodded. “Good.” He racked the balls, scrubbing the rack up and down on the felt until Phin thought he’d have to take it away and smack him with it. When he lifted the rack, the front ball was a sliver of an inch from the rest, but either Zane didn’t notice or he didn’t care. Then Zane went to the head of the table, put the cue ball a good six inches behind the head string, and bent to shoot, gripping his cue until his knuckles went white.

  I’m playing with an idiot who doesn’t even know you don’t rack your own balls, Phin thought, and sat down, nodding when Zane’s break bounced the head ball and left most of the balls barely scattered. Nothing went in, and he cushioned only three balls, two of them stripes that ended up near pockets. And now I have to open that mess, Phin thought, and picked up his cue again, but Zane said, “Stripes,” and bent to shoot.

  Phin sat back down again, wondering whether Zane knew he was cheating or if he just didn’t know eight-ball. Both, he decided as he watched Zane flounder around the table, pumping his stroke from his shoulder and hitting the two stripes into their pockets at warp speed. On his third ball, the cue ball brushed Phin’s two before it smacked into the thirteen, but Zane didn’t seem to notice. That was a foul and I have ball-in-hand, Phin thought about saying, but it was more instructive to watch Zane bash the balls and the game around.

  On his fourth shot, Zane jawed the twelve in the corner pocket and it bounced out. “Tight pockets,” he said to Phin.

  You’re a moron. “They can be,” Phin said, and picked up his cue. “Solids, huh?” He scanned the table, which Zane had broken up for him with his blundering, chalked his cue, and began to pocket balls on plain vanilla draw-and-follow shots.

  “I think there are some things about that video you should know,” Zane said as Phin played. “Especially since you put in that film permit.”

  Phin ignored him and pocketed the six.

  “It’s pornography, Phin,” Zane said. “I know you don’t know that because I know Sophie lied to you. Her whole family is crooked. Davy’s a con man out in L.A. Amy’s got a juvie record that would turn your hair white. The cops want her dad on a fraud charge right now. Sophie’s playing you—”

  Phin straightened and met his eyes, not amused.

  “I’m just saying,” Zane said, stepping back, “that it would be smart of you to stay away from the Dempseys because people tend to lose things around them. Like money. And elections.”

  Phin shut him out, chalked his cue, and bent back to the table to work his way to the eight, concentrating so he wouldn’t grab Zane by the throat.

  “You don’t believe me? Look up Leo Kingsley, that producer they’ve got out there. You know what his production company is? Leo Films. He only makes porn. You check it out. You’ll see. She’s lying to you if she told you that movie isn’t porn.”

  Phin ignored him and put the one ball in the side pocket with a draw shot that brought the cue ball into position for the eight in the corner pocket. It was a lovely, simple shot, but then, the simple shots were always the prettiest, restoring his faith in physics and the world in general, something he needed right now since what Zane was saying was probably true. Anything that could be checked as easily as that had to be true. Except for Sophie playing him. She wasn’t like that.

  Of course, that’s what every guy who’d ever been played had probably thought.

  Phin chalked his cue and bent to put the eight ball in, and Zane said, “So you’ll stop the movie?”

  Phin pocketed the eight. “No,” he said as he straightened. “That’s game. You can go now.”

  “I’m thinking about your family,” Zane said. “I can understand family, I’m trying to save my own here. My wife—”

  “My family is fine,” Phin said, putting his cue back. “Good-bye.”

  “Your wife isn’t. She’s dead.” Zane leaned closer. “You know, the police reports from her death are pretty interesting. A little more digging there, and I could have a real news story. And you could have a real scandal.”

  “And you could have a real lawsuit,” Phin said. “My wife’s death was an accident.”

  “The police chief was your father’s cousin, and the coroner is a relative of your mother
’s.” Zane put the break cue down on the table. “I start digging and you’ll have no place to hide. You confiscate that video and send Clea home, or the Dempseys won’t be the only family with a jail record.”

  “Don’t fuck with my family,” Phin said. “I will cut you off at the knees.”

  Zane stepped back and said, “Women can sure make fools out of smart men,” and left, a lot faster than he’d come in.

  Half an hour later when Wes showed up, Phin was sitting on the porch, sorting out the mess as lightning played in the sky and thunder growled in the distance.

  “Looks like we’re finally going to get that rain,” Wes said as he dropped into his chair.

  “Zane Black just tried to blackmail me into closing down the movie. Accused me of killing Diane.”

  Wes frowned. “He’s not too smart.”

  “He also told me Sophie is lying to me and making porn.”

  “Hell. Is she?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve been warned to stay away from her.”

  “Her brother?”

  Phin nodded. “And you and my mother and now Zane.”

  Wes sighed. “So knowing you, that means you’re going to the Tavern to see her tonight.”

  The thunder rumbled again, closer this time.

  “Oh, yeah,” Phin said. “Got to.”

  Sophie didn’t see Phin when she walked into the Tavern, but as she looked around the dim interior and recognized most of the faces there, she realized that in the past ten days, she’d become a regular without belonging there herself. It was sort of like being with Phin. She was there and interacting, but she wasn’t a part of him, not somebody he’d introduce to his daughter or take to dinner.

  She moved toward the jukebox, where Garth was singing “Baton Rouge,” a perfectly good song, but too much like Temptation was before she got there and would be after she left. She started searching the song lists for Dusty, and after a minute she felt someone come to stand beside her.

  “I’ve been looking for you,” Phin said, and before she could stop herself, she said, “Don’t stand too close. Your mother will find out.” She flipped over another jukebox card.

  “Forget my mother,” Phin said. “Could you look at me for a minute? In fact, I’m the one who should be mad here. In the future, I’d appreciate it if you’d dump me in person instead of sending your brother with the message. That was downright—”

  “What?” Sophie said, jerking her head up.

  They stared at each other for a moment.

  “Davy said you didn’t want to see me again.” Phin said. “And I was stupid enough to believe him.”

  “Oh.” Sophie turned back to the jukebox. “Well, you sure gave up easy.” She flipped over another jukebox card, and Phin took her chin and made her look at him.

  “Talk to me,” he said, looking her straight in the eye.

  Sophie swallowed. “You made things pretty clear on the dock when you didn’t want me near your kid. And then I realized that I’m not part of anything here, except now I’m part of the gossip, which is why you haven’t been taking me to dinner, because you’ve been hiding us so Dillie wouldn’t find out—”

  “I haven’t been hiding us,” Phin said. “I just haven’t been standing on Main Street shouting, ‘I’m having great sex with Sophie Dempsey.’ It didn’t seem like a gentlemanly thing to do.”

  “You’re right, you’re right.” Sophie turned back to the jukebox and flipped another card.

  “Sophie, if I’ve screwed up, I’ll pay for it, I’ll even take you to dinner, but I’m damned if I’ll pay for my mother and Davy.”

  He sounded annoyed which was cheering. Why should she be the only angry person in the bar? She flipped over another card.

  He sighed. “What are you looking for?”

  “Dusty,” Sophie said. “I can’t believe this stupid bar doesn’t have—”

  Phin took out some change and put fifty cents in the box. Then he punched in a number combination and said, “Can we go sit down now?”

  The first chord sounded from “Some of Your Lovin’,” and Sophie said, “Oh. Thank you.”

  “Don’t mention it.” Phin nudged her away from the box and toward the booths, and she moved away, swaying a little bit to the music, caught between misery and hope, but mostly glad just to be with him again, which was pathetic. One of the men by the bar caught her eye and smiled, and she stopped swaying. She was already enough of an outsider without calling attention to herself.

  Phin put his hand on her back and said, “Over there,” and she saw Wes and Amy in their usual booth, far back in the corner.

  Dusty sang behind her, soft and low, and she thought, No matter what I do, Liz and the others are going to hate me, and I’m going to be an outsider stuck in a booth in the back.

  “Sophie?” Phin said, and Sophie said, “I’m tired of this. Make your mother a happy woman. Go on without me.”

  She moved to the center of the dance floor and began to dance, losing herself in the gentle swing of the music until the guy at the bar got up. Not you, she thought, and turned away from him to see Phin shaking his head.

  “Care to dance?” he said.

  “That’ll start talk,” she said, and moved away from him.

  “No, dummy.” Phin slid his arm around her waist and pulled her back. “This is the part where you fall into my open arms and never stand a chance.”

  He smiled down at her, and Sophie relaxed into him, so glad to have his arms around her again that she didn’t care what he said next. She moved with the music, and he pulled her closer.

  “It’s too late to stop the gossip anyway.” Phin slid his hand down to the small of her back and moved his hips into hers. Sophie felt the heat start again and took a deep breath. “Anybody who’s seen us knows we’ve been together,” Phin whispered in her ear, making her shiver.

  “That’s how the gossip started. They just looked at us and knew.”

  “Oh.” She moved with him, letting her cheek rest against his shoulder, and he held her tighter and her breath came faster. “This is the sexiest song in the world,” she said a couple of minutes later, through so much heat she was blind with it.

  “It is now,” she heard him murmur, and when she lifted her face to smile at him, his eyes were dark and hot. “It’s been four days since I’ve touched you. You’re driving me crazy.”

  “Good,” she said, putting her face against his shirt again, and he kissed the top of her head.

  “Careful with that,” she said.

  “Hey,” he said, and when she looked up, he bent and kissed her on the mouth, a quick kiss that turned into something longer, as rich and sweet as the song they were dancing to. He stopped moving and held her close, right there in the middle of the dance floor, and she forgot everything and kissed him back, clinging to him as the heat spread and her knees went weak.

  When he broke the kiss, the music had stopped and he looked as mind-whacked as she felt. “If they didn’t know before, they do now,” he said, and then he looked past her shoulder, and his face changed. “Oh, Christ.”

  “What?” she said, still dizzy from his kiss, but he was already pulling her toward the crowd around the table where Frank and Zane were squaring off.

  “Family values,” Zane was sneering. “You and your town council brag about your family values, but you won’t do a damn thing to stop a porn film right in your own backyard.”

  “I’m not making a porn film,” Frank shouted back, and Sophie said, “Oh, no.”

  “And nobody wants to do anything about it,” Zane said, talking to the crowd now. “You all just sit home, holding on to your secrets, pretending there’s nothing wrong. Well, there’s a lot wrong, and I know it all. I’ve warned everybody and nobody listens, so I’m telling you all now: You stop that damn movie, or none of you will have a secret left. Especially you, Lutz.”

  Frank stepped closer. “I told you, I wouldn’t make porn. I support family val—”

  “Your family
values?” Zane’s laugh spurted out. “Hell, your kid is fucking my wife, and your wife is fucking me.”

  Frank went white, and Phin said, “Okay,” and pushed through the enthralled crowd to Zane.

  “Not that she’s any good,” Zane said, looking at Georgia, and when she made a little cry of protest, he added, “Hell, Georgia, even Jell-O moves when you eat it.”

  “You’re done,” Phin said to Zane as he reached him. “Go home.”

  Zane toasted him with his glass. “And here’s your mayor who is fu—”

  Phin had him by the throat before he’d finished. “I said, go home,” he said, and then Wes was there, too.

  “Let go of him,” he said, and Phin did, and Zane tried to say something through his bruised throat. “I wouldn’t,” Wes said to Zane and hustled him protesting to the door, making it look like no effort at all, and Davy followed them both out.

  Frank was staring at Georgia as if he’d never seen her before, and Sophie went to her. “Zane lies all the time,” she said to Frank, putting her arm around a still-frozen Georgia. “He—”

  “He’s not lying about you, is he, Georgia?” Frank said dully. He turned to look through the mass of fascinated faces. “Where’s Rob? Was that true?” He looked at Sophie. “Was that true about Clea and Rob?”

  “I don’t know,” Sophie said. “I really don’t. I just know I wouldn’t trust anything Zane says. He’s awful, Frank.”

  “It’s all true,” Frank said, and left without a backward glance at Georgia.

  “Frank!” she cried, and it came out like a mew.

  “We’ll take her home,” Phin said from behind Sophie, and she nodded.

  “Well, that was ugly,” Phin said, when they’d dropped Georgia off at home and made sure she was marginally all right. It had started to rain as they left the Tavern, and Georgia had cried right along with it, the mascara running in black tracks down her face while the rain ran silver down the windshield and Sophie thought vicious thoughts about Zane.

  “What is wrong with that man?” Sophie said now.

  “He’s trying to hold on to his wife,” Phin said. “Men get tense when their women leave.”