The Pretend Girlfriend (41 page)

Beatrice sighed a long-suffering sigh. "This had better be oh so good. You have no idea what you just pulled me away from."

Managing to right herself without falling over, Gwen gripped the envelope tightly with both hands. This was her last chance to keep the secret for good.

You're being childish
, she thought.
Just give B the envelope! Isn't her friendship worth more to you than what's written inside?

Put that way, Gwen knew that the chastising voice was right. Still, the pressure needle for her anxiety swung deep into the red when she held out her offering.

"What is this? A check? It better be a check," Beatrice said, one corner of her mouth curving up as she lost control of her signature sense of humor.

Cold anxiety pooled at the bottom of Gwen's stomach while she watched her friend open the envelope and pull out the piece of paper within. Beatrice unfolded that piece of paper, her eyes fixing on the single word written within.

Five seconds went by. Ten. That anxiety in Gwen's gut felt like one of those awful aliens from those movies. You know, the ones that burst out from inside you.

"Is this what I think it is?" Beatrice said.

Gwen nodded. When she saw that Beatrice hadn't looked at her and thus didn't see the nod, she followed that with a, "Yes."

There followed another terrible silence while Gwen watched her friend digest this new and terrible fact. What was it going to be: friendship restored, or eternal ridicule?

"I knew it!" Beatrice said. She grabbed Gwen so fast that Gwen thought at first that she was being attacked.

But it was just a hug. A long, diaphragm-crushing hug that simultaneously forced all the air from her lungs and prevented her from breathing any more in. Tears began forming in the corners of Gwen's eyes.

Just as she began seeing dark spots pirouetting across her vision, Beatrice released her. B kept looking at the letter and chuckling.

"What? What does it say?" Aiden said, having assessed the situation and discerned and acceptable outcome. He tried looking over B's shoulder at the paper.

B folded it back up and rammed it into her purse. "That's for me to know and you to find out, mister!"

Gwen loved her friend dearly at that moment, especially since she was still trying to catch her breath from that hug, and therefore couldn't do anything herself to stop Aiden from seeing the letter's contents. She didn't know if her relationship with Aiden could take such a revelation yet.

Stop being so melodramatic, that criticizing voice interjected. Gwen told that voice to shut up.

"So, you guys need help taking down the big man, do you?" Beatrice said. She sat down in the wingback chair and helped herself to a few morsels left on the plates from supper.

"If by the big man you mean my father, yes," Aiden said, apparently not particularly fond of that nickname.

"Yeah," Gwen said, sitting on the corner of the bed closest to her friend, "It's just that you seem to know everyone. Or know someone who knows everyone. I'm not sure if you've been watching the news lately..."

"Hey, at least you're a high class, high cost hooker... escort I mean," Beatrice said, "Could have been worse. They could have called you a crack whore."

"...I see that you have. Moving on," Gwen said. Beatrice's particular brand of humor was an acquired taste, and it seemed that Gwen had lost that particular palate and needed time to get it back. "We need to find something, anything we can use against Henry to get him to call all this off and leave us alone. Aiden doesn't have anything, and we couldn't think of anything together..."

Beatrice broke in again, "Yeah, yeah. I get it. I'll be your Obi-Wan." The joke fell flat. Beatrice huffed a sigh. "You know? Because I'm your only hope? Don't you watch movies?"

"So that's a yes, for the record?" Aiden asked.

"Yes, yes, yes," B replied, "I think I know someone who could help. Thing is, help's not cheap."

"I thought we were friends?" Gwen said, shocked that Beatrice would use this situation as leverage for money.

"Not for me," Beatrice replied, "The guy I know. I guess we're just lucky you're dating Scrooge McDuck's son." She gave Aiden a pointed look.

He shrugged, that reference also flying over his head. "If that means I'll pay, I will."

"Good. Let's get going," Beatrice said, standing up and jerking her skirt back down to a somewhat more modest level. When neither of them followed her when she opened the door, she turned back. "If I know this guy, he'll want you two to be there with me. He likes a good laugh. So come on, rich boy, get that butt in gear!" She waved Aiden out the door.

And then she looked over her shoulder and gave Gwen the most evil look she'd ever seen. "You too, Gladys." She winked.

A chill went down Gwen's spine, and she hoped Aiden hadn't heard.

She hoped this was worth the price.

T
he man they went to see liked to style himself an "Information Broker." His name was Samuel Schullman and, as far as Gwen could tell, he basically collected dirt on rich, famous, and powerful people that he either used himself as leverage or sold onto someone else who wanted it badly enough.

According to Beatrice, if Sammy-boy (Beatrice's words, not Gwen's) didn't have something they could use to metaphorically pin Henry's arm behind his back, no one did.

And the information brokerage business apparently paid quite well, judging by the man's penthouse suite overlooking the park. Looking out the big window that ran the length of the exterior wall, Gwen thought she could see Aiden's building somewhere on the other side.

Beatrice had met him at some party or other, and their senses of humor meshed so well that they saw each other on the regular. They seemed like they'd be perfect for each other, but, to Gwen's shock, neither noticed the compatibility vibes going between them.

Although that might have been because Samuel resembled a young Jack Nicholson with more hair. Beatrice could be rather shallow about who she found attractive.

As soon as he heard B's voice through the intercom, he buzzed them up. Even Aiden was impressed by that condo. He greeted them at the door holding a dry martini with a single olive bobbing around within.

Both Aiden and Gwen were less impressed about Samuel's knowledge of their relationship. Gwen felt quite glad that this guy was B's friend, and not someone who would come knocking a few months down the line with some blackmail in mind.

"I didn't know that these were your friends, Beeb," he said, "How fascinating!"

Beatrice hooked her arm through his when he offered it, and Gwen and Aiden followed the two of them into the condo.

"There's all sorts you don't know about me," Beatrice said, "But I think we need to save that for another time."

Samuel led them into an expansive living room. They sat at a sectional couch set into a sunken part of the floor.

"A business call, is it? Even more fascinating!" Samuel said, lazing back on the couch like some decadent Roman Emperor. "So what is it you need?"

Beatrice explained the situation without going into too much detail, leaving it at they wanted something to use against Henry so that the happy young couple could get back to enjoying their relationship. She didn't mention anything about the girlfriend contract.

Samuel sipped at his martini, then licked his lips while he watched them. Gwen could practically see the gears turning over in his head, the balances tipping one way or the other.

This guy definitely gave her the creeps. The plush, expensive sofa they sat on felt somehow dirty. Skeezy. And she wished they'd come up with some other way to go about this whole thing.

"Henry Manning, eh? Now there's a clever silver fox. He thinks he's so smart, covering himself the way he does."

"So you're saying you have nothing?" Aiden broke in.

That earned him another measuring look while Samuel sipped at his drink. "No, that is not what I said at all. I said that your father thinks he has his tracks covered very well. And I'm going to let you in on a little secret here..." Samuel leaned closer, "The ones who think they have all their dirty laundry locked up tight? They're the easiest ones to find something on."

"So you do have something," Gwen said, leaning back. She'd leaned in when Samuel had, eager to hear what he had to say.

From the large square mahogany coffee table, Samuel pulled an iPad. He unlocked it and they watched him for a few moments while he found whatever it was he sought. "I do."

Immediately, Aiden reached into his jacket and produced a checkbook. The same one from which he'd given Gwen that first check for her signing the contract. He also pulled out a pen, poising it in his fingers to begin scrawling on the paper. "How much?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Samuel said, "Let's not talk price yet. First, I have to make sure you really want to know this. Because once you do, you can't un-know it."

"So?" Aiden said.

Samuel sighed like he'd given this same bit of advice time and again. The sigh also said that no one ever heeded it.

That just made Gwen want to know this big secret all the more. Beatrice leaned in so far that her butt almost slipped off the couch, and she had to hastily scoot backwards. She never could resist a good morsel of gossip. Of course, the way Samuel couched it, this sounded more like a five-course meal of gossip.

Gwen figured it might be some sale tactic, designed to draw the mark into a guaranteed deal. But some feeling within told her it was a genuine warning.

"I do have something," Samuel began, "And it will definitely get daddy dearest off your backs. But this sort of thing... If it comes out, well, daddy's going into the slammer. And that family business of yours? Into the penny stocks overnight, if not outright bankruptcy."

What could possibly be so juicy?
Gwen wondered. Was it corporate espionage? Bribery of public officials? Cover-ups? Maybe... Maybe Henry has had rivals assassinated or something? Anticipation and suspense tingled up and down her spine.

Samuel and Aiden entered some sort of staring contest. The air between them crackled, and the hairs on the back of Gwen's neck stood, making the skin tickle and itch simultaneously. Just do it! She sent the thought towards Aiden, urging him to action. It was he, after all, who had the checkbook. And that made the final decision his.

The thing was, Aiden actually gave it some serious thought. Someone more rash and impulsive might have just jumped in and demanded to know right away. Someone more cowardly might have heeded the warning, tucked tail, and retreated back to the hotel.

"I want the information," he said.

His voice sounded so loud, but Gwen realized that the room had grown awfully quiet during that little contest of wills. And she also realized she'd been holding her breath, and let it out slowly.

"Sweet..." Beatrice breathed. She lived for this sort of thing.

"Name your price," Aiden said.

Samuel pulled a coaster from a dispenser hidden under the coffee table, then set his martini down on that coaster. He opened his mouth, but then his eyes darted to the two women. "Perhaps we should discuss such matters elsewhere? Please, follow me."

Aiden accompanied him to another room, Gwen and Beatrice watching over the couch as the two men disappeared around a corner.

"What do you think it is?" Gwen said.

"Murder. Has to be murder," B replied.

They didn't have much longer to speculate. Aiden and Samuel returned shortly. Aiden fidgeted with the button on his jacket, his eyes looking elsewhere, while Samuel still clutched that iPad. The information broker looked awfully pleased with himself, and Gwen wondered just how much Aiden had paid for the secret.

"Would you like to stay for a drink?" Samuel offered as he sat down and retrieved his martini, "I make the most delicious White Russian..." he leaned in, "The secret's in the cream you use."

"And how much will that secret cost?" Beatrice said, eating the act up.

Gwen grimaced. This guy was such a skeezeball. The way the man's lips curled after he said cream made her stomach turn.

Before Samuel could reply, Aiden cut him off. "No. We should be leaving."

Gwen accepted his outstretched hand while she mounted the couple steps leading up from the sunken couch. They started to leave until Gwen discovered that Beatrice still sat down with Samuel.

"B! Come on"

Her friend shrugged. "A drink does sound good about now..."

"Don't you want to know the secret?" Gwen said, nodding her head towards Aiden, who waited close to the door.

A battle played itself out across B's face. The siren call of a family secret proved irresistible in the end. "See you another time?" B said to Samuel.

"Indeed," the cryptic creep replied.

Gwen never felt so glad to leave a place. Not even when she ran out of Henry's office. She wanted another shower as soon as they got back to their room.

And Aiden stayed silent until they climbed into a cab. Silent and distant, stuffing his hands into his pockets on the elevator ride down and watching the floor counter without seeing it.

"So what is it?" Gwen said. When Aiden didn't reply, she poked him in the ribs and asked again. He jerked and looked at her like she'd just woken him from a deep sleep.

"What is what?" he asked.

"The secret, of course," B said, "What do you think she meant? The color of the sky or something?" She rolled her eyes.

Aiden pulled out his phone, opened a document, and handed the device to Gwen. Her hands shook so much she could barely hold onto it as she angled it so both she and Beatrice could see. What was written within? Murder for hire contracts? Secret correspondence with persons of interest? Confessions to some heinous crime?

"What is this?" Beatrice said.

Gwen agreed with the sentiment. The documents she scrolled through, passing her finger over the screen, meant nothing to her. There were numbers. Lots of numbers. Some of the documents looked German, and others French.

Frustration boiled inside her.
How anticlimactic
, she thought. "Aiden? What are these? What does it all mean?"