Remembrance (The Mediator #7)(8)

“I’m not, actually,” he said. “I told you, it’s never a good idea to joke when the forces of evil are involved.”

“Paul. First of all, you can’t win back something you never had.”

“Suze, where is this coming from? I really thought you and I had something once. Are you honestly trying to tell me it was all in my head? Because I’ve had a lot of time to think it over, and I have to say, I don’t agree.”

“Second of all, I’m engaged. That means I’m off the market. And even if I wasn’t, threatening to tear down a multimillion-dollar house and release some kind of evil spirit that may or may not live inside my boyfriend is beneath even—”

He cut me off. “What do I care if you’re engaged? If Hector doesn’t put enough value on your relationship to bother consummating it”—Paul put an unpleasantly rolled trill on the second syllable of Jesse’s given name—“which I know he doesn’t, you’re still fair game as far as I’m concerned.”

“Wait.” I could hardly believe my ears. “That isn’t fair. Jesse’s Roman Catholic. Those are his beliefs.”

“And you and I are non-believers,” Paul pointed out. “So I don’t understand why you’d want to be with a guy who believes that—”

“I never said I was a non-believer. I believe in facts. And the fact is, I want to be with Jesse because he makes me feel like a better person than I suspect I actually am.”

There was a momentary silence from the other end of the phone. For a second or two I thought I might actually have gotten through to him, made him see that what he was doing was wrong. Paul did have some goodness in him—I knew, because I’d seen it in action once or twice. Even complete monsters can have one or two likable characteristics. Hitler liked dogs, for instance.

But unfortunately the good part of Paul was buried beneath so much narcissism and greed, it hardly ever got a chance to show itself, and now was no exception.

“Wow, Simon, that was a real Hallmark moment,” he snarked. “You know I could make you feel good—”

“Well, you’ve gotten off to an excellent start by threatening to turn my fiancé into a demon.”

“Don’t shoot the messenger, baby. I’m not the bad guy here. If I weren’t the one tearing down your house, it was going to be some other filthy-rich real-estate developer.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“What the hell, Simon? You should be grateful to me. I’m trying to do you a solid. Where is all this hostility coming from?”

“My heart.”

“This is bullshit.” Now Paul sounded pissed off. “Why should I have to respect some other guy’s beliefs? It’s called free enterprise. Since when can’t a man try to win something that’s still on the open market?”

“Did we just travel back through time again to the year 1850? Are women something you believe you can actually own?”

“Funny. I’ll give you that, you’ve always been funny, Simon. That’s the thing I’ve always liked best about you. Well, that, and your ass. You still have a great ass, don’t you? I tried to look up photos of you on social media, but you keep a surprisingly low profile. Oh, shit, wait, never mind. You’re a feminist, right? You probably think that ass remark was sexist.”

“That’s what you’re worried about? That I’m going to think you’re sexist? Not that I’m going to report you to the cops for trying to blackmail me into going out with you?”

“I’m afraid you’re going to find any wrongdoing on my part a little difficult to prove to the cops, Suze, even if you’ve been recording this phone call, which I’m guessing you only thought of doing just now. No monetary sums have been mentioned, and even if you call it coercion, I’m pretty sure you’re going to have a hard time explaining to the cops exactly how my tearing down a property I legally own is threatening you. Though if you mention the stuff about the ancient Egyptian funerary texts, it will probably give the po-po a good laugh.”

Unfortunately, he was right. That was the part that burned the most. Until he added, “Oh, and I’m going to expect a little more than you merely going out with me. Not to be crude, but virtue is hardly something I value. Unlike Hector, I’m not particularly marriage minded. But I guess being married to you might be fun . . . like being a storm chaser. You’d never know what to expect from day to day. But I’m getting ahead of myself. First, our date—it will definitely have to include physical intimacy. Otherwise, how else will I be able to show you I’ve changed?”

I was so stunned, I was temporarily unable to form a reply, even a four-letter one, which for me was unusual.

“Don’t worry,” he said soothingly. “It’s been a long time since I’ve touched Goldschl?ger. I’ve vastly improved my technique. I won’t throw you against another wall.”

“Wow,” I said, when I could finally bring myself to speak. “What happened to you? When did you become so hard up for female company that you had to resort to sextortion? Have you ever thought of trying Tinder?”

He laughed. “Good one! See, I’ve missed this. I’ve missed us.”

“There was never any us, you perv. What happened between you and Kelly, anyway?”