You've Got Fail(7)

“My apologies again.” The cubist took Fake Scarlet’s hand. “I hope this won’t result in a bad blog entry about the gallery.”

Fake Scarlet shook her head. “Of course not. The art and the rest of the company were wonderful. I can’t wait to write a glowing piece for my readers.”

“Thank you.” Relieved, the cubist wandered into a nearby group that perused a photograph of an octopus lying across a man’s pointed member.

“You owe me one, you know th—” I turned to Fake Scarlet, but her red skirt was already disappearing through the front door and into the darkness beyond. “Shit.” I hurried out behind her, doing my best to walk normally despite the extra cargo in the seat of my pants.

She turned down the side street at the edge of the building. I rushed past the doorman and followed her around the corner into a dimly lit alley.

Leaning against the wall, she smirked. “About time. Give me the goods.” She opened her bag and stared at me.

“Seriously?” I reached behind me and scrabbled at the items she’d stuffed in my pants. A wallet came loose, then another. I snagged the money clip, but the bracelet got away and skittered down my leg, landing with a plunk on the cracked pavement.

“Hand them over.” She shook her bag.

“No way.” I knelt to pick up the bracelet.

She shifted from one heeled foot to the other, her fair legs luminous in the faint streetlight. “I could knee you right now, take the stuff, and run.”

I shot up, goods in hand. “You’d do that? After I just helped you?”

She shrugged. “It’s the name of the game. But I didn’t do that at all, did I? I warned you. One good turn deserves another.” She held the open bag out farther. “Now give me my turn.”

“These are stolen.” I shook my head and glanced at the purloined cache. “Hey, this looks like—” I jumbled the wallets into one arm and felt my back pocket. “You took my wallet!”

She flinched, then a sly smile spread across her crimson lips. “Well, you can keep that one. No hard feelings, right?”

I gritted my teeth and forced myself to take a slow breath. Fake Scarlet was pressing every button I had, and reminding me why I was an introvert to begin with. “I’m not giving these to you, so you may as well close your little bag and go on your way.”

She wrinkled her nose and huffed.

“And you have to stop pretending to be Scarlet Rocket!”

Her eyebrows lifted, interest playing across her face. “You give me the goods, I’ll stop saying I’m Scarlet Rocket.”

“We already tried that. Your word is no good here.” I stuffed my wallet into my back pocket and cradled the others in one arm.

“Then we’re at an impasse.”

“No. We’re done.” I strode back toward the gallery. “I should turn you in. Call the cops. Tell everyone you’re an imposter.”

I had no real intention of doing any of that since my future was riding on the Scarlet Rocket name, but she grabbed my arm and yanked. “Wait.”

“What?” I glared down at her.

“Untwist your manties.” She eyed the money clip. “I’ll let you give the stuff back, but promise me you won’t call the cops.”

“Afraid to face the music?”

“No, just not a fan of jail cells.” She tore her gaze from the cash and met my eyes. “Please.”

I should’ve refused her, but her deep brown eyes inspired a special sort of acquiescence—one based on my dick doing the thinking for me. “I won’t tell.” I sighed. “I’ll just drop this stuff in the mail to the gallery tomorrow.”

“Thank you.” She squeezed my forearm.

I stuffed the wallets in my coat pocket along with the cash and bracelet.

She sighed. “Can you at least give me cab fare back to my place?”

“What?” I shook my head at her. “You have absolutely no shame.” Heading back toward the gallery, I stepped out to hail a cab that was already coming to a stop.

“It’s only twenty bucks or so. Come on. Help me out.” She smiled up at me, her eyes glittering.

I wanted to tell her no, but then an idea struck me. “I’m not paying your entire fare, but let’s share.” Knowing where she lived could come in handy if I had any more problems from her.

The back door of the cab opened. “Willis!” My agent, Linda, stepped out. Her harsh, platinum blonde bob, oddly smooth skin for her age, and black cat-eye glasses were unmistakable. She slammed the cab door and grabbed me, dotting air kisses on each cheek. She smelled like a liquor cabinet, but I didn’t judge. She was one of the best agents in New York, and I wasn’t about to second-guess my luck in landing her.

Her eyes cut to the side. “And this must be Scarlet Rocket.” She winked at me and grabbed Fake Scarlet for the same air kiss treatment. “Honestly, Willis, you should have at least told me. I’m your agent after all.”

“Told you what?” I reached for the cab door, but it pulled away. Great.

“That you’d found someone to play Scarlet Rocket.” She took Fake Scarlet’s hands and held them out. “You are the perfect actress for this. The hair, the eyes, the style.”

“Thanks.” Fake Scarlet smiled and gave me a sideways glance.