“Yolanda uses her jobs at local businesses to gather information and gossip for me.”
And more.
“I do a bunch of research on my own too. Google, social media, and yes, Ancestry dot-com. And I do write off the annual subscription on my taxes.”
More.
“I’ve been running the spirit medium scam for years.”
... Nothing for that one.
“And I’m... I’m really fucking good at it. The best.”
Ahh, there we go.She clutches the afghan as she’s pushed farther up the bed.
“Being a bullshit artist is in my blood. I lied my way through my entire life until I met you— Oh.Oh. Charlie! God, yes!” That one gets a moan out of him too, and it’s a moment before she cansay anything else because now he’s moving into her without waiting, like he can’t hold back anymore. He surrounds her, blanketing her body the same way his sweater did, his lips and tongue and teeth on the back of her neck, her shoulder, and that delicious spot in between. He mutters things against her skin that she can’t quite catch in full, but she makes out a “yes” and a “so perfect” and a “such a good girl” and she clenches around him.
“I’m— I’m—”
“Yeah,” he whispers into her ear. “Yes. Come for me.”
This time she doesn’t fight it. She lets the sensations overtake her, almost not even registering when Charlie picks up the pace before stilling and letting out a long, ragged groan. And yes, she does feel a little like she derailed from her track and slammed into a brick wall at high speed. But something tells her that, if Charlie will help her sort through the wreckage, she might be able to put herself back together even stronger than before.
29
They stay like that for a moment: still connected, his weight atop her. Then Charlie pulls out and rolls to the other side of the bed. The only sound is the duet of their breaths, heavy and still racing to deliver enough oxygen to their satiated bodies. Gretchen is vaguely aware that Everett is very likely back from the Nowhere and could come barging in at any minute, but she’s too wrung out to move. Or to care.
The most she can manage is to turn her head, to rest her cheek against the pillow that muffled her screams as she came. She studies Charlie’s profile, trying to memorize it. This is, she realizes, the first time she’s had an opportunity to really look at him without pretext.
“I’ve been wanting that since the very first moment I saw you,” he says to the ceiling with a little sigh of satisfaction as he removes the condom, and that pleases Gretchen immensely. It’s possible he’s talking about the sex, but it’s equally likely, she thinks, that he’s referring to hearing her tell him the truth about herself.
“The feeling’s mutual.” This isn’t a lie at all, no matter what he meant. Something started subtly tugging at her as soon as Charlie opened the door that first afternoon, and only now does she realize it was her intuition telling her that this was a place—a person—where she might find a temporary respite. Not forever, but at least for a little while. And she needs that. The weariness crept up on her over the years, and now that she’s noticed its presence, the thought of going back to DC and pulling out her bullshit paintbrush again for a bunch of grieving rich people doesn’t hold the appeal it once did.
What if I don’t have to go back to that?It’s a fleeting thought. A ridiculous thought. What else could Gretchen evendoafter she leaves Gilded Creek? She isn’t exactly qualified for most legitimate jobs...
“When did you change your name?” he asks.
The question pulls her from her train of thought, and the lack of hesitation in her answer surprises her. For not having a lot of practice with telling the full truth, it somehow comes easily here, with Charlie.
“Six years ago, I think?” Well, she might as well explain. Save him having to ask, which she’s sure he will. “My father and I... we’re estranged now, but we were working together up until then. Our last job—I didn’t even know it was a job. Or maybe I did know, but...”
Charlie turns onto his side and slides his fingers through her hair. The sensation grounds her, encourages her to continue. More of that wordless praise. “There was this guy. Lawrence. An investment banker. It wasn’t... it wasn’t a romantic thing. I was... I showed up claiming to be his daughter from a past relationship, and he just... immediately took me in. Became my dad... Notmy actual dad—Lawrence Biller was about as far from Ned Eichorn as you can get—but Lawrence felt like the dad I would have had in an alternate universe. Or the dad I would have wanted as a child if I’d known to want something different. Anyway, we got close. Closer than I’ve ever been to... to anybody. I pretended to be his daughter, yes, but I wasn’t pretending otherwise. I was just myself. And he loved me, so easily, like there was no reason in the world not to.”
“And then?” Charlie prompts.
“And then my dad told me the mark he’d been working for the last three months wasn’t going to pan out, and we were running low on cash, so it was time to get as much as we could out of Lawrence and skip town.” Gretchen sucks in her lower lip as she remembers the night it happened, the things her father said before he kicked her out of the Hyde Park apartment they had scammed their way into that autumn.What did you think we were doing here? Biller was always meant to be our insurance policy. If you’ve started thinking of him as anything more, that’s your fault. I know I taught you better than that.“I told him I wouldn’t do it. That I cared about Lawrence and that he cared about me, and I wouldn’t betray him. He asked if I was really choosing a mark over him, and I said yes. So he told me that I was of no use to him anymore if I wasn’t willing to do what it took. That if I was going to suddenly get up on my high horse, I could ride it off into the sunset alone until I wised up. And that’s what I would be—alone. Because Lawrence would never keep me around if he knew I wasn’t who I claimed to be.” Her father had certainly been right about that. She sniffs, holding back the tears that threaten to spill over. “Anyway, my dad got caught pretty soon after, trying to blackmail a Wisconsinstate supreme court judge. Wasn’t his usual type of job. I don’t know why he did it. He must’ve gotten desperate.”
Gretchen pauses for a moment, thinking (not for the first time) how that call from jail when he was arrested felt like being contacted by a stranger. Some people say the moment you grow up is when you realize your parents aren’t perfect; for her, it was realizing that her father wasn’t as smart of a criminal as she always believed him to be. Which, given the values with which she was raised, is sort of the same thing.
“So I went to Lawrence, and I told him everything, thinking he would be... proud of me? God, I don’t even know what I thought. He just looked at me with suchdisgust. And he told me that if he ever saw me again, if I ever tried to contact him, he’d go straight to the cops.” She closes her eyes and forces out the words she’s never before admitted to herself. “I’m still glad I didn’t take his money, but sometimes I wish I’d never told him the truth. Then he could have kept loving me.”
“And that’s when you moved to DC and set up shop as a spirit medium?” Charlie asks quietly.
“Eventually. There were a few places before that while I tried to figure out what was next, scraped together some money. My father’s name started showing up in the newspapers right around when I got to town. Mine never made it in, thank god, but I couldn’t risk anyone making the connection, especially since I was starting my business and knew I would be dealing with the DC upper crust. So my last name became Acorn for all intents and purposes. And honestly? Gretchen Acorn feels more real to me than Gretchen Eichorn these days anyway.”
“Acorn suits you,” he says after a brief silence. His fingerscontinue combing through her hair, periodically tugging on a strand, making her body buzz all over again. “A little thing, tough on the outside, a world of potential within.” Charlie’s words wrap around Gretchen’s heart like the warmest hug. “You’re good at what you do,” he admits. “The fake-medium thing. Very, very good. Don’t think I don’t recognize that. I see the skill behind it. It’s what I find so interesting, so damn infuriating about you.”
This is all too much, Gretchen thinks. Someone seeing her and appreciating her skills. Someonewantingher for the actual her.Too much.
