by Jill Winters
"Well, let's see what you've been working on," he said jovially.
"Okay, keep in mind it's only two-thirds done," Billy said.
"All right, I know; now let's see it."
Billy went to the far left corner, picked up the rock that secured the heavy green tarp over the mural, and gingerly pulled it back.
Across the stone was a luminous water scene with a pinky-crimson sunset and translucent, phantom images that looked almost superimposed, giving the mural a touch of the surreal.
"Billy, this is beautiful," he said, smiling warmly. Giving her a one-armed hug, he added, "I am so proud of you."
Her chest swelled with pride and satisfaction at the simple words, which meant so much, especially in light of her new resolve to work full-time at her painting.
"It's beautiful," her dad said again.
"And who's this?" Greg Dappaport called from the open entrance of the gallery. Today he had on a blue-and-white, diamond-patterned neckerchief, a houndstooth jacket, and red linen pants. His shiny loafers clicked as he descended the front steps.
"Oh, hi," Billy said brightly. "Mr. Dappaport, this is my dad, David Cabot."
"Pleasure to make your acquaintance," he said, shaking David's hand. "Billy, I suppose this is a perfect occasion then to tell you some exciting news."
"What?" she asked curiously.
"Well, as you know, I've been so pleased and enthralled by your work so far that I've dropped your name to some of the gentlemen in my yacht club. In fact, I've told my polo club, wine club, and skeet club, too." He looked from her to David, letting a ripple of laughter erupt. "You'll never believe how many of them want to commission you for portraits!"
"Really?" Billy said, breaking into a laugh herself, because it was just too fabulous.
"Now, I know landscape painting is your milieu of choice, but if you can create a mural like this"—he motioned to the street where her mural was—"I'm sure you can paint a few supercilious old codgers with one hand behind your back."
Billy laughed again, excitement swirling inside her, filling her up, making her almost giddy, and she turned to her dad. "Isn't this wonderful?" she said, smiling.
David smiled back. "I'm just so proud of you."
* * *
On her way to Seth's house that afternoon, Billy's cell phone rang. It was Corryn. "Hey," Billy said.
"Hi, I was calling to make sure you're still alive."
"How sweet."
"Seriously, have you given up this whole murder investigation thing yet?" Corryn said.
"Nope."
"Great."
"How did you know I was still investigating?" Billy asked.
"Because you were asking Mom those questions in cooking class. Anyway, at least Joe's been doing drive-bys on your street. So far nothing suspicious—that's good."
Tilting her head, Billy grinned into the phone. "And you know what Joe's doing how?"
"Oh, well..." Corryn faltered for a second. "We've been talking."
"And?"
"Okay, and we kissed."
"What! Corryn, that's awesome! When did this happen? And more important, how was it?"
"The other night, after we left Uno's. And... nice." She paused, then said, "But to tell you the truth, it was over before it got going, which was my fault."
"Well, have you guys hung out since?"
"No—"
"Oh."
"What about you? What's the deal with Seth—you guys are friends now?"
"Um, yeah." Technically they were friends—now. Of course, a couple days ago they were rutting animals, humping each other like sex-starved maniacs. God, it was almost inconceivable that Billy had been so wrapped up in the investigation she hadn't had a chance to catch Corryn up to speed.
As she turned the corner onto Seth's street, Billy gave her sister the abridged version, then said, "Listen, I've gotta go, but let's have a raspberry crush night soon. It's been so long."
After Corryn agreed, they said good-bye, and Billy walked up the cobblestone sidewalk to Seth's front door. She chucked her cell into her bag and knocked. No answer. She knocked again, and then she remembered the last time she'd come knocking, and went to the back. Sure enough, there were voices coming from the deck. She saw Seth sitting across from Sally, who sat adjacent to her niece, Pam.
She wanted to do an about-face, because she had no reason to be there in the first place; she'd just wanted to see him.
When Seth saw her his face broke into a smile. "Billy. Hey, come over."
Sally and Pam turned their heads, and Sally said, "Oh, hello, I remember we all met at the Dessert Jubilee."
"Yeah, hi," Billy said brightly, even though jealousy crept inside her heart. She couldn't help it; she had the distinct impression that she'd interrupted some serious matchmaking. That the tall, skinny girl with the pageboy haircut was available and interested, which didn't mean Seth was interested back, but still... just the thought of him kissing or touching anyone else made Billy's heart ache.
"I didn't mean to interrupt," Billy said as she climbed onto the deck.
"You're not," Sally said. "Pam and I just brought over a gourmet lunch for Seth. Pam is responsible, actually, not me. I'm helpless in the kitchen, but Pam is a genius. Of course, there's only enough for three. Had I thought ahead, I would've brought more, but we just stopped over to talk about Pam's trip out west."
Billy swallowed uncomfortably, holding back irrational tears. So Pam was welcomed with open arms out west, but it never crossed Seth's mind to invite Billy. He pulled out the chair next to him for her, but Billy waved him off with her hand. "Oh, no, I can't stay. I was just working at the gallery, and I... Well, Seth, could I talk to you privately for just a second? I wanted to tell you something."
"Oh, sure," he said, and led her through the sliding glass door into the kitchen. "What's up?" he asked as soon as they were alone.
"Sorry to interrupt," she said again, now with annoyance clipping her tone.
"You're not. Sally just showed up."
"Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that everything's all set. Georgette's gonna come to Atlas after work tonight. You're still coming, aren't you?"
"Of course I'm coming. By the way, how did you convince Georgette to come?"
"Well, it wasn't that tough, because she loves to go dancing, but I had to ask Des, too, so it wouldn't look suspicious. So while you're probing Georgette for information, I'll keep Des busy."
"Okay," Seth said with a nod. "Now, you're sure you feel safe being with Georgette? I mean, in light of the fact that she is probably the one stalking you?"
"Yeah, because she has no idea I'm on to her. Anyway, there's a good chance that she doesn't really want to hurt me, just to scare me off the case."
Last night Billy had come up with their plan of attack and Seth had grudgingly agreed: It was no secret that Georgette found Seth attractive, so she was more likely to spill something incriminating to him, especially if she had a few drinks in her. Not that they expected her to confess to Ted's murder, but maybe she'd reveal a detail or two about her past that would at least give them something to take to the police.
"Seth!" Sally called from the deck. They could hear her through the glass and see her waving him back to the table. "Your lunch is getting cold!"
With a nod he held up his hand, then turned back to Billy. "What time do you want me to meet you at Atlas?"
She could barely make eye contact with him, because she was so filled with moodiness right now. Her chest tightened with jealousy and longing, and she hated that this girl was moving in on her man (who wasn't her man). Obviously Billy's possessiveness wasn't justified, but tell that to her churning gut and her thudding heart.
No, she had to get a grip here. Pam had every right to pursue Seth. Billy needed to grow up, to be the bigger person, and she didn't just mean her dress size. "Meet me at seven," she said as she turned on her heel. "I'll just leave you three to... you know... whatever," she added, and slid open the glas
s door.
Seth caught her arm before she could go. "Hey—is anything wrong?"
"No," Billy replied, her blood boiling, albeit unreasonably. "Nothing at all."
Chapter 27
"So, Seth, you married?"
Georgette leaned in closer and let her big breasts fall flat on the tabletop. She and Des were seated across from Billy and Seth in a dark booth at Atlas.
"No, I'm not married," he replied. Unfortunately he didn't elaborate (something along the lines of, "After Billy, I became celibate," would've been nice). "My company keeps me pretty busy."
"Ooh, you own your own company?" Georgette asked. "Pretty fancy."
"Not really. It's a consulting firm in Seattle. Basically we help start up small businesses." Shrugging, he added humbly, "It's a living."
"Ya know, I've always wanted to see Seattle," Georgette said. "Hey, if I ever come to town, could I stay at your place?"
Billy almost choked on her Diet Coke, while Seth floundered for an answer. "Uh... well, to tell you the truth, I travel a lot... so—"
Luckily, the waitress interrupted at that moment to bring Des a beer and Georgette a refill of tequila. Georgette threw her head back as she took the shot, while Billy struggled to understand her unreadable coworker. They'd been at Atlas for half an hour already, and so far Billy hadn't picked up any signs that Georgette had any other agenda besides getting into Seth's pants. She'd thought now that she was looking for signs, they'd be easier to find.
On the other hand, the night was still young, and Georgette was very preoccupied with Seth at the moment. Of course, Billy was counting on that, hoping Georgette would be distracted enough by her hormones to slip up and reveal something.
"So," Seth began, "how do you guys like your job at Bella Donna?"
Des shrugged and avoided eye contact. "It's great if you like bureaucratic bullshit," he replied flatly.
"It's fine," Georgette drawled. "Same shit, different day."
"I hear you," Seth said, smiling at her, and Billy could tell he was about to start fishing. "So, Georgette... what does your husband do?"
"Besides bone his new wife?" she said drunkenly. "How should I know?"
"Oh," Seth said, acting surprised, "you're divorced, then?"
"No—never married the guy. Just lived with him. Basically was his slave."
"Oh, I'm sorry," Seth said diplomatically.
"I sure know how to pick 'em," Georgette said with a hint of a sneer, then tilted her head and winked through her big pink glasses. "Present company excepted."
Seth smiled again, and Billy twisted her napkin in her lap. She knew she should make small talk with Des so that Georgette would feel more comfortable spilling something to Seth—so Billy would look oblivious to their conversation—but she couldn't seem to tear herself away, and anyway, Des was being unusually withdrawn tonight.
"Well, at least you didn't have to go through an upsetting divorce," Seth said casually.
"Yeah, tried that once already, didn't care for it," Georgette remarked, then crept her hand further into the center of the table. With each moment that ticked by, Billy noticed pudgy, acrylic-tipped fingers walking slowly but greedily toward Seth.
"Really? So then you were married once?" Seth asked—probed, really, but he was so damn charming while he was doing it.
"Yeah, but that was a long, long time ago. The bastard left me—no note, nothing. Just dropped off the face of the earth; strangest thing." She took a swig from her beer chaser, then set the glass down hard on the table. "Come on; let's dance."
A mix of surprise and apprehension crossed Seth's face, and Billy could tell he was hoping Georgette hadn't been talking to him. Of course, when she tugged on his arm, all pretense was lost. "Uh—I'm really not a very good dancer," he protested as Georgette urged him out of the booth.
"Don't worry; I'll lead," she said, pulling him with her toward the dance floor. On the way Seth looked back at Billy searchingly—desperately—and Billy couldn't help grinning.
"I don't know where our waitress went," she said to Des now, who was hunched in the booth looking sulky. "I'm just gonna go to the bar and get another Diet Coke."
After ordering another soda, Billy leaned her elbows on the bar and glanced over at the dance floor. Even though tonight's business was serious, she just had to laugh. Georgette jiggled her hips and raised the roof, while Seth moved tentatively, obviously trying to keep out of the fray. She must've lost her glasses somewhere, because they weren't on her face... or maybe that would be her convenient excuse to grope Seth on the dance floor.
As Billy turned back to the bar, she felt a hand on her waist and almost jumped at the contact. "Oh, Des!" she said, finding him at her side. "You startled me." Just then she realized his hand was still lingering on her waist; subtly she shifted over until it fell back to his side. "What's up?" she asked brightly. "You don't seem like you're having fun tonight."
"Yeah, well vapid dens of cultural bankruptcy aren't exactly my scene," he said with acid sarcasm. Gee, he didn't have to come.
Yesterday, when Billy had invited him, he'd seemed thrilled with the idea, but tonight he had inexplicable attitude.
"Is something wrong?" she asked.
"No. By the way, what's up with you and that guy Seth?" he asked, flicking his chin in the direction of the dance floor.
"Oh... he's, you know, a good friend of mine."
Squinting, Des asked, "What about that guy Mark Warner? Our old distribution rep—you still dating him?"
"Um, yeah. Well, we had some problems, but we're working things out."
"What problems?" he pressed, which put Billy's back up a little, because this felt more like an interrogation than a casual conversation.
"It's sort of complicated," she replied, ready to change the subject to much more mundane issues, like Des's band and their possible name change from the Sophists to the Nouveau Beatniks.
"You know, it's funny," Des said with a humorless laugh. "I never thought you'd be that type of person."
"What type of person?" she said, confused.
"A total sellout."
"What?" Excuse me?
"Forget it."
"No, really, what are you talking about?"
"I just can't believe the guys you date," he said, sounding annoyed. "They're totally part of the corporate-industrial complex. Don't you even care?"
"Wait, I don't think that's fair," Billy said, keeping her voice calm and even. After all, Des was normally a decent guy, but maybe he'd had too much to drink tonight.
"Whatever," he sneered, and self-righteously flipped his hair.
"Seth and Mark are both really nice guys," Billy insisted, not sure why she was bothering to convince Des of this.
"Yeah, you just keep telling yourself that."
"Huh?"
"Nice guys? Please, they're corporate sellouts! They blindly condone a system of economic opulence and capitalistic soullessness!" Whoa, this was getting insane now. "I thought you were different," Des went on angrily. "I thought you had, like, an artistic essence or whatever. But you're just like everyone else—just a perpetrator of psychosocial inequity."
"Des, stop," Billy said, cutting him off. "You're really out of line. What, are you drunk?"
"No, I'm hurt, okay?" he said, doing a fist pump to the chest on "hurt." "Yesterday I left my latest manifesto for you to read, and today I find it crumpled up and thrown in the men's-room toilet!"
"What on earth are you talking about?" Billy said, shaking her head, totally confused. "Des, I didn't know you left anything for me—I never even saw it."
"Right! I put it next to your paycheck in your employee mail slot. Then at the end of my shift today, I find it in the toilet!"
"Oh, my God, Des, I'm so sorry. I swear it wasn't me. I never even saw it," she said again. He pouted, scowled, and shuffled his feet; then Billy tapped his arm. "Really, I swear it wasn't me. C'mon, you know I'd never do something like that."
Finally Des lifte
d his head, blew his hair back, and said, "Okay, all right. I mean, if you say it wasn't you, it's cool. I believe you."
She sighed, glad that she'd calmed him down. Jeez, she'd never seen Des so angry! Of course, the question remained: Who had trashed Des's manifesto? The men's room was an odd choice, too, because Des was the only guy who worked at Bella Donna. It was as if someone deliberately intended for him to find it.
"Look, I'm sorry I went off on you," Des said.
"No, it's okay," Billy said, even though it wasn't, and she felt a little overwhelmed and creeped out by Des right now. "So... how's Melissa?" she asked, desperate to change the subject. Besides, there was nothing like venturing into the bizarre Aggerdeen family saga to deflect a conversation.
Des shrugged. "Same as always, totally blind to commercialized brainwashing and the emptiness of her own existence."
"Hmm..." Billy said, only half listening as she glanced back to check on Seth. He looked wholly uncomfortable, while Georgette housed him from behind with her white hair in wild disarray a la Albert Einstein. Suddenly she jumped in front of him. With arms spread wide, she shimmied and threw her head back with abandon.
Billy's mouth dropped open just as Georgette tried to hump Seth's pelvis.
"And now Melissa just spends all her time on the Internet," Des was saying. "Whenever I come around, she covers the screen real quick, so I can't see what she's doing. I figured it was all part of her obsession with finding her real father, but the other day she told me that she'd already found him a couple of weeks ago."
"Oh, really?" Billy said, tuning in to the conversation.
"Whatever. It's not like I can believe anything she says anyway," Des remarked with a shrug. "Like at the Dessert Jubilee—she left two hours early, said she was going home because she had a migraine. But when I got home, I found the car in the garage—still wet."
"I don't get it," Billy said, confused.
"It wasn't raining when she left," Des explained. "It only started raining on my way home. I remember, because I was sitting in the cab worrying that I might've left my guitar out on the deck." Now that he mentioned it, Billy remembered staring out a taxi window that night when rain suddenly began to pummel the glass. Des shrugged again. "Melissa's full of shit. She was out cruising with the car while we were all stuck working."