Strange Bedpersons

Nick sat on the edge of Tess’s bed. “Why can’t we just get along?”

Tess shut her eyes so she wouldn’t be tempted to kiss him. “Because if we get along, I’ll end up sleeping with you.”

Nick shot her an outraged look. “You start fights so we won’t have sex?”

“Not always,” Tess said, her voice rising. “Sometimes you’re such a yuppie I
have
to fight with you. But a lot of the time, yes—because you really turn me on and God knows I want you, but I know it’s no good, because all you think about is that damn law firm, so I just keep telling myself what a throwback you are even if you are being a darling at the moment, and how if I give in to you I’ll end up barefoot and pregnant while you work late at the office! You’re like Jekyll and Hyde.” She sat up and glared at him, crazed with lust and anger. “And I’ve got to tell you, I really
hate
Jekyll.”

“Jekyll was the
good
guy,” Nick said through his teeth.

“No, Jekyll was the
conservative
guy,” Tess spat. “He never had any emotions and all he cared about was public opinion.” She leaned back. “Why didn’t you make love to me at the Music Hall?”

“I thought we settled this already. It was a parking lot,” Nick said. “Public indecency is a misdemeanor.”

“Thank you, Dr. Jekyll,” Tess said. “I rest my case.”

Then he threw his arms wide to hug her.

“Tess!” he said, beaming at her. “You look great!”

Tess looked down at her sagging, bleach-splotched sweats. So much for relief, happiness and lust. She rolled her eyes at him, all her suspicions confirmed. “Right.” She slammed the door in his face and shot home both dead bolts.

“Aw, come on, Tess,” Nick called through the door. “It’s been a month. Actually it’s been a month, a week and two days, but who’s counting? All right, I’m counting. I miss you. I keep calling but you won’t call me back. Is that fair? I think we should talk about this.”

“I don’t,” Tess said firmly to the door, but she ran her fingers through her short red curls. If Nick hadn’t had such a large streak of calculating rat running through him, he would have been just what she needed at the moment, instead of the last thing she needed. But there was that streak of rat, and if he was at her door being charming it was because he wanted something. And the something probably wasn’t her. It was something to do with money, promotion, status or all of the above. She shook her head and turned back to cross the threadbare gray carpet to her chair and her conversation.

“Who’s the wise guy? Your landlord?” Gina DeCosta sprawled on Tess’s lumpy couch, her unruly black hair falling into her eyes, her small body lost in a huge black T-shirt, and her legs wrapped in black leggings as tight as Ace bandages. She stretched out tentatively and winced.

“Worse.” Tess flopped down into her decrepit armchair, which groaned under her weight, and slung her long legs over the side. “You know, every time I think my life has hit bottom, somebody lowers the bottom.”

Nick pounded on the door. “Come on, Tess. Open up.”

“Who
is
that guy?” Gina said.

“Nick, but I don’t want to talk about it. Between him and my landlord, I may never open that door again.” Tess patted her lap, and a huge black cat jumped into her arms, reclaiming the territory she’d lost when Tess had gone to answer the door. “Sorry, Angela,” Tess murmured to the cat.

“Tess?” Nick called. “Come on. Let’s be adult about this. Or you can be adult and I’ll fake it. Tess?”

Gina frowned at the door. “Why are you ducking Nick?”

“Well.” Tess thought for a minute. “It’s like this.” She stood up, dumping the cat off her lap again.

“I answered the door and he said—” she flung her arms wide and beamed a toothpaste smile at Gina “— Tess, you look
great!”

Gina looked at Tess’s sweats. “Uh-oh.”

“Exactly.” Tess flopped back into her chair. “You know, every time I see Nick, my mind looks at him and says, ‘Yes, he’s fun, but he’s also a power-hungry rat, so stay away from him,’ and then my body looks at him and says, ‘Hello, gorgeous, come to Mama.’” She shook her head. “I have to have a long talk with my body.”

Gina looked at the sweats again. “I don’t think it’s gonna listen to you. If you dressed me like that,
I
wouldn’t listen to you.”

“Forget the clothes,” Tess said. “You’re starting to sound like Nick.”

“Okay. New topic. Why are you waiting for your landlord?”

“I reported him to the housing commission.” Tess smiled, cheered up by the thought.

“Well, that was unfriendly,” Gina said. “What did he do?”

“It’s what he didn’t do.” Tess shifted in her chair as she warmed to the story of her landlord’s crimes. “Three apartments in this building have been vandalized in the past two months, and Ray won’t even fix the lock on the hall door. Anybody can walk in here. Somebody had to do something.” She grinned at Gina. “And, I thought, who better than me?”

“Tess?” Nick called again. “It’s not safe out here. If I get mugged because you’re playing hard to get, you’ll never forgive yourself.”

Both women turned to look at the door, and then Gina looked at Tess. Tess shrugged.

“Okay,” Gina said, abandoning the subject of Nick. “So you did something. That’s no big surprise. I’m just amazed you did something as calm as reporting him.”

“Well, I thought about organizing a candlelight-vigil protest march,” Tess said, starting to grin again. “I thought all the tenants could light candles and march on Ray’s condominium, but this place is such a firetrap I knew we’d never make it to the front door alive, so then I thought about using Bic lighters, instead, but that made me think of Stanley across the hall.”

“Stanley?”

“You’ve never seen Stanley?” Tess’s grin widened. “Stanley always wears the same T-shirt and it doesn’t cover his tummy, and Stanley’s tummy is not attractive. In fact, Stanley’s stomach is the only one I’ve ever seen with a five-o’clock shadow.” She frowned at Gina. “Do you suppose he shaves it?”

Gina made a face. “That’s gross.”

“I think so, too, which is why I couldn’t picture Stanley with a Bic. A torch, yes. A Bic, no.” Tess smiled again. “But then I thought, why not give Stanley a pitchfork and put him at the head of the march?” She stopped to visualize it. “You know, there’s a lot of Quasimodo in Stanley.”

“Come on, Tess, cut me a break here,” Nick called. “I came back to apologize. Doesn’t that count for something?”

Gina raised an eyebrow at Tess, but Tess shook her head, so Gina returned to Stanley. “I don’t think Quasimodo had a pitchfork,” she said. “He didn’t in the movie.”

“Anyway, I finally had to get serious before somebody around here got hurt,” Tess said. “So I acted like an adult and filed the report.”

“Good choice,” Gina said. “Getting arrested for pitchforking Ray the landlord would probably have been bad for your career.”

“Well, actually my career is sort of dead right now.” Tess slumped down in her chair. “I wasn’t going to tell you since this is your first night back from the tour and I was looking forward to one night without trauma, but... I lost my job.”

“Oh, no.” Gina sat up, her face bleak with sympathy and concern. “What happened?”

“Don’t panic,” Tess said from the depths of her chair. “I have a plan.”

“Sure you do,” Gina said. “What happened?”

“Funding cuts. The education governor we elected decided that supporting private-tutoring foundations wasn’t educational. So now the Foundation is going to have to only use volunteers. Eventually the whole place may go.”

“Tess, I’m really sorry,” Gina said. “Really. I know how much those kids meant to you.”

“Hey.” Tess straightened and glared at Gina with mock severity. “I’m not finished yet. The kids aren’t leaving. And neither am I. I just have to find a job to pay my bills that gives me my afternoons free so I can still volunteer there.” She grinned. “I saw
Pretty Woman
the other night on TV, and Julia Roberts was having such a good time being objectified by Richard Gere that I seriously thought about taking up hooking, but then I thought, thirty-six is a little old to hit the streets.”

Nick knocked again. “Tess? You want me to grovel? I’ll grovel. I’ve got a great grovel. You’ve never seen my grovel—you left before I could show it to you. Come on, Tess, let me in.”

Gina jerked her head toward the door. “If you’re thinking about swapping your bod for money, go answer the door. He’s still loaded, right?”

Tess nodded. “I haven’t checked lately, but knowing Nick and his affinity for money, he’s still loaded.”

“Marry him,” Gina said.

“No,” Tess said.

“Why not?”

“Well, to begin with, he hasn’t asked me,” Tess answered. “And he’s a Republican lawyer, so my mother would disown me. And then—” Tess frowned “—I always thought it would be a good idea to marry somebody who wouldn’t try to pick up the maid of honor at the reception. Call me crazy but—”

“Since that would be me, you got no worries. Marry him.”

“You don’t know Nick,” Tess said. “He could seduce Mother Teresa.” She cocked her head toward the door and listened for a moment. “And it doesn’t seem to be an option anymore. I think he got tired and left.” She tried hard not to be disappointed. After all, she’d had no intention of opening the door anyway.

Still, it wasn’t like Nick to give up that fast, dangerous hallway or not. He must not have missed her that much, after all.

Damn.

She was upset about something.

That wasn’t good. He liked Tess, and the thought of her being unhappy bothered him. He spared a fleeting thought of concern for her and then returned to his own problem.

She wasn’t upset with him. She hadn’t slammed the door on him right away, so it was something else. Probably one of her lame ducks in trouble. And when he’d tried that dumb line about her looking great— when she actually looked like hell—she’d gotten exasperated and slammed the door. All right, so he deserved the door. Now all he had to do was get the door open again, give her a little sympathy, and he’d be in.

If he waited half an hour and then knocked again, she might open it, thinking he’d gone away.

And if he had flowers or candy or something... No. Not for Tess. Tess would not be impressed with generic peace offerings. He thought about the problem for another minute and then left, surveying the gloomy hall with contempt as he went.