Duping Cupid (A Valentine's Day Short Story) (6 page)

On
Christmas Eve, she gave Sarah the day off. Cupid To Go dates were all set and in play, so there was nothing to do. Nothing to do, nowhere to go. Story of her life these days.

At three
in the afternoon, just as she packed up to return to Beowulf and their happy holiday festivities—she’d bought and stuffed a stocking full of doggie toys for the pooch’s first Christmas—her cellphone rang. Bass’s name flashed on her screen, and she forced herself to let it ring three times before, after a deep inhale and exhale, she answered. “Hey. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,
Vivi.” His voice was hushed, strained. Was he calling her out of obligation? Was Ava with him? In another room? “How are you?”

“Busy,” she replied with forced cheerfulness.
“I...um...I have a gift for you. Should I just mail it to your office?”

Silence met her offer, and she held her breath
.

Finally, he said,
“You better not. I can’t even trust my own staff anymore. Anyone’s willing to speak to the press for the right price.”

“Oh.”

Disappointment crushed her. She’d lost him. The Bass she knew always became an overgrown boy at Christmas—especially when presents were on the line. In years past, she’d had to hide the gifts she bought him at Sarah’s place to keep him from snooping before the big day. Every Christmas Eve, he could barely wait until midnight to hit the stocking she’d stuffed with small treats for him.

She understood that part of him, realized his childhood with an alcoholic mother and no father had stolen the magic of Christmas from him. He had
grown up with no traditions: no Christmas tree—though, one year, his mother had decorated their kitchen cabinets with garland—an event he still recalled as one of his favorite childhood holidays. There’d never been a grand meal, a boatload of presents, or anything frivolous. More than twenty years after he’d left the trailer park in rural Pennsylvania and headed west to try his luck on the stage, Christmas, for Bass, was still a childlike wonder. And she traditionally spent weeks planning dozens of special surprises for him. Until this year. Until Ava stole him from her.

“What are your plans tonight?”
His question shook her out of her thoughts and back into their conversation.

“The usual.
Hanging out at home,” she replied. “I’m supposed to go to Mom’s tomorrow, but I might bow out.”

“And spend the holiday by yourself?”

“No, I have a...friend staying with me these days.” A four-legged friend, but Bass didn’t need to know that. She wouldn’t allow him to feel sorry for her.

“Really?
Anyone I know?”

She feigned a laugh.
“Definitely not. He and I only met two weeks ago.”

“
He
? And he’s already living with you?” Outrage increased his volume. “Who is this guy?”

Did she detect a
tinge of jealousy in his rapid-fire questions? Yes! At last, she might have the upper hand with him. “What can I say? It was love at first sight.”

“That’s crazy,
Vivi. How much do you know about him? Where’d you meet him? What does he do for a living? And why is he living with you?”

“
He’s a...” She thought fast. “...a personal trainer.” True. Beowulf made her exercise at least four times a day. “He’s very motivating. And very sweet. Trust me, he’s not dangerous.”

“
You know this after a week or two? How? Did you have him checked out? Or did you just Google him?”

“Relax. I checked him out thoroughly and have a full file on him.”
Immunization record, neutering certificate, AKC papers.

“Yeah, I’ll bet.”
He sighed, a loud whoosh of frustrated air. “You worry me, Vivi. You’ve got too big a heart, and people tend to take advantage of that quality in you.”

You mean, people like you?
The thought popped into her mind, but she didn’t say it aloud. “I don’t know if I should be touched or insulted.”

“
I don’t care how you take it.” He didn’t elaborate on that comment, and for a minute, Vivi wondered if he expected her to argue. She remained mute, and at last, he added, “I think I should meet this guy.”

“
Oh, I’m sure you will. Someday. He’s around for the long haul.” Yes, she definitely sensed some underlying jealousy in his demand. “Who knows? Maybe we can double date one night. You and Ava, and me and...Wulf.”

“
Wulf? His name is Wulf?”

For
heaven’s sake, someone should staple her mouth shut. She couldn’t quit while she was ahead. Oh, no. She had to plow on into the ridiculous. “Mmm-hmm.” Fine. Let him call her bluff.
His name is Wulf. Run with it.
“He’s not originally from here.”

“I bet.
If he’s so fabulous, though, why don’t you want to bring him to your mother’s house? I would think, after Russ’s bombshell at Thanksgiving, your Wulf character would get you back into your mother’s good graces.”

Yeah, right. Good point.
Quick. Come up with an excuse.
“I guess I’m just not ready to share him with anyone else yet,” she replied with a flippant air.
Now back out of this conversation before you screw up again.
“Listen, Bass, I have to go. I’ve got some last minute shopping to do.”

“
Hey, Vivi?” he called out before she could hang up.

“Hmmm?”

“Does Wulf have a stocking?”

The question touched her heart. Somewhere, deep inside that
happy-go-lucky armor he’d donned for Ava and the press, the little boy
she
loved remained.

“Yeah,” she murmured. “He does. Merry Christmas, Bass.” Before her heart could crack, she punched the disconnect button.

****

Bass set his phone on the dresser and glared at the keypad.

Wulf. He’d lost Vivi to some clown named Wulf. A personal trainer, no less. A musclehead. All he could picture was that old
Saturday Night Live
skit with Hans and Franz. Just what she didn’t need: a Neanderthal with more brawn than brains.

His fingers tore at his tie as he tried to knot it into submission beneath the collar of his dress shirt.
Wulf. Of all the stupid names. What on earth possessed Vivi to get involved with some guy she’d known less than a month?

He never should have left her to her own devices over the last few weeks. In hindsight, Ava’s advice to dupe Cupid by making her jealous had backfired big time.
He’d bluffed, she’d called, and they’d both lost in this poker game. Only Ava, the crooked dealer, seemed to get what she wanted. Would continue to get what she wanted for the next two months. And that was his fault for stepping in on that fateful Monday afternoon for a lark.

Yanking off the tie and tossing it on his bed, he left his apartment for Ava’s Christmas Eve get-together. As the “host” for the event, he had to be there before the first guest.

He hailed a cab, gave the driver Ava’s address, and settled back against the car seat, gaze staring blankly out the window. Snowflakes swirled—not enough to bring a white Christmas to New York City, but enough to put everyone in a holiday mood. Everyone but him.

Vivi’s
hesitant voice echoed in his conscience.
I...um...have a gift for you.

He had one for her, too.
A perfect emerald-cut diamond ring in a platinum setting.

Fat lot of good it did, sitting in his bureau drawer.
The timing was all wrong for an engagement ring, but the purchase soothed him, made him feel he was actually making progress in romancing her. Not that he could risk meeting her or sending anything to her. Hell, he couldn’t be seen
talking
to her.

Even now, a reporter sat in a car
three or four lengths back, waiting to see where he’d go, what he’d do. He hadn’t experienced this kind of media coverage since the heyday of
Our Small Town
. He hated it then and detested it now.

Yet, then and now, he’d always found a way to make the paparazzi work to his advantage. Yesterday, he’d strolled into Tiffany’s to shop for
Vivi’s gift. He’d chosen the perfect ring and, after paying the clerk, he stepped out onto the Fifth Avenue sidewalk. Within seconds, two uncharacteristic characters shuffled past him into the store. He knew they weren’t really customers and he had a pretty good idea why they’d shoved inside. They thought the gift was for Ava. Let them. He didn’t care. The staff inside wouldn’t confirm or deny the purchase, no matter how much they pestered or what amount of money they offered.

Now, if only he could give the ring to
Vivi. But no, he had to wait until March—and risk the possibility that she’d turn him down for some clown named Wulf. While he wasted time with It’s-All-About-Me-Ava and her round of society parties, fundraisers, and opportunities to be “seen.”

What
he really wanted was a quiet holiday, the kind he and Vivi always shared. The kind she’d now share with some other guy...right down to the Christmas stocking, his favorite part.

Vivi
had a talent for finding gifts that were uniquely personal and well thought out. Last year, she’d scored un-gettable tickets to a sold-out show and tucked them into the toe of his stocking, then filled the rest with loose popcorn and Sno-Caps, his favorite snacks. He wondered what she’d put in Wulf’s stocking this year. If she were smart, she’d give the guy an eviction notice.

Wulf
. Jeez. He could just picture this loser. Even eight years later, he remembered his first glimpse of Julian Bruno. Easy enough to paste Julian’s head on a bulky body and come up with a reasonable facsimile of Wulf.

The cab pulled up outside Ava’s apartment building, and he peeled off a few bills to pay the fare before stepping out onto the sidewalk.

The uniformed doorman greeted him with a tip of his hat. “Good afternoon, Mr. Lawrence. Merry Christmas.”

His mind still focused on
Vivi, he muttered a quick, “Merry Christmas, Reggie,” and strode inside the building. He took the elevator up to Ava’s floor and waited for her to open the door.

When she did, her formal smile of greeting flipped to a frown. “What’s wrong?
And where’s your tie?”

“
Screw the tie. She’s got a guy living with her.”

“Who?”
He strode inside, peeling off his coat and tossing it on the rack in the corner. Ravel and Debussy, wearing red bowties and candy cane sweaters, came running for their traditional pat on the head, but he ignored them. “Who else? Vivi!”

“How do you know?”

“I just spoke to her.”

With a look of censure, she removed his coat and tossed it back to him, her meaning clear.
Hang this in the closet, mannerless buffoon
. “You called her?”

“Yeah.”
He opened the closet door, removed a hanger and took proper care of his coat. “To wish her Merry Christmas. That’s allowed, isn’t it?”

“You haven’t seen her, have you?”
He turned, slamming the door with his back. “With the press following me everywhere I go? Do I look like an idiot?”

“Just checking.”

“Don’t worry, Ava. Your secret’s still safe.” He sank onto the couch near the windows overlooking the Manhattan skyline. The view, while impressive, held no interest for him. All he could see was Vivi in the arms of some strange man, kissing some strange man, opening Christmas presents with some strange man.
He
should be there! Not some guy named Wulf. He scrubbed his hands over his face. Ava’s shadow fell across him, and he looked up. “I screwed up.”

She planted her hands on her
bony, red velvet clad hips. “You did not. This is exactly what I expected to happen.”

“
You did?”

“Of course.
” Ava’s barracuda smile glittered in the dimly lit room. “She’s on the rebound. This is perfect.”

“Perfect for whom?”

“For you. Don’t you get it? She’s trying to make you jealous. She’s playing the game.”

He shook his head. “Not
Vivi. She wouldn’t lie to me. She’s not like that.”

Ava’s
mocking laughter abraded his spine. “No, of course not. Not your perfect Vivi. There’s just one problem. The woman’s entire business revolves around lies and deception. In particular, lies and deception for the lovelorn. Look at what she’s accomplished. She transformed the romance game into a profit machine. How do you think I wound up hiring you?”

True.
But...false. He waved a dismissive hand. “That’s different. She’s never lied to me.”

“She’s never had competition for you
before.”

His brain digested that statement.
Competition? Did Ava mean herself? He snorted. As if Ava could ever be in the same league as Vivi.

And yet, wasn’t that what he wanted? For
Vivi to miss him enough to realize how much he meant to her? As much as she meant to him? Hadn’t he lied to her about Ava for that very reason?