Esme and the Money Grab: (A Very Dark Romantic Comedy) (10 page)

  “We’ll meet you at the coffee house around the corner,” Serge whispered in Faye’s ear, “This shouldn’t take more than half an hour. Oh, and good work Faye, the suit looks very nice on you, very attractive.”

  “Thank you,” Faye purred with relief that her silly romantic feelings for him had faded, “Do you really think this will work?”

  Serge had instructed Faye and Laura to wear matching outfits and their hair loosely around their faces. The resemblance between the two women wasn’t strong and Faye was a decade older than Laura, but their height and general look of fit California blondes was more than enough to get the job done.

  “You’ve already filled out the paperwork, the picture is just a song and dance for public relations. They won’t be double-checking your ID from the register’s office to the photo room. Worst-case scenario, we feign confusion at you having wandered off and call you in. Keep your cell phone on. Go now Faye.” Serge walked purposefully away from Faye, Laura by his side.

  Faye stared after them for a moment, a little nervous about their deception but overall trusting in Serge’s outlandish plan of having the big check picture taken of Laura instead of her. She knew his confidence and easy charm would smooth over any troubles should they be found out. The idea of her newfound fortune worried her far more.

…

   “Black coffee please,” Faye said as she reached the front of the line at the coffeehouse, “No… A cappuccino,” She laughed to herself, coffeehouses had always seemed the biggest waste of money to her. Spending five dollars for something you could make at home was not something she was capable of doing, but now she was rich, even if it was only a temporary condition to her. “And a croissant, no I would like…” She gazed into the glass display of muffins, scones and assorted pastries and ordered one of each as a mad laugh escaped her.

  She paid, leaving a generous tip of more than her actual order and walked outside to a communal picnic bench-style table. The bench was empty other than a young man who sat playing on his phone. She sat away from him and took a sip of her expensive caffeinated beverage.

  “Traffic tickets, you know?” The young man said.

  “Hmmm?” Faye looked up from her cup and into the eyes of the boyish man and sighed deeply as if she had been punched. His hair was a golden red, tousled, framing his angular face, accentuating his masculine bone structure, the square set of his jaw. His green eyes bore into her and she felt faint.

  “They booted my car,” He smiled and Faye put down her coffee cup and looked away. She considered whether or not to consult a psychologist for the heightened moods she had been experiencing for the previous two months. “Hollywood, the street signs, who can read them? I don’t even know why I paid the tickets. The car’s in impound and won’t even start.”

  “Oh…” Faye wished he would stop talking to her, “Maybe you should find a parking lot, pay a monthly fee. I’m sure it would be cheaper than the parking tickets.” She wondered why she had responded to him, encouraging conversation. The boyish man appeared to be only a few years older than her daughters.

  “I don’t have money for that,” He laughed again. The sweet trill of the high notes sent shivers of happiness through her.

  “You found the money to pay the tickets.” She gave up on wishing him away. Laura and Serge would be coming for her soon. She would never see him again, why not have a moment of fun. “Plan better,” she shrugged and a smile larger than his filled her face.

  “Yeah, that’s easy to say when you can afford half the bakery,” He gestured towards Faye’s tray filled high with every imaginable pastry. “You going to eat all those? Carb loading, I didn’t know L.A women did that. You’re too tiny to eat all of them. Your stomach will explode. Here, I’ll help you out.” He scooted down the bench close to Faye, his hip against hers and took a croissant from the tower of baked goods.

  “You’re a cheeky one,” She thought of scooting away from him, not too far, the electricity running through her was pleasing, but far enough that their bodies weren’t touching. She decided against it.

  “There’s no way you can eat all of them,” He ravenously tore off the edge of the croissant with his teeth.

  “I was going to take a bite of each…”

  “That’s wasteful,” he said through a mouthful of food.

  “I’m planning on having a very wasteful day.”

  “Wasteful, huh?” He laughed, “Well then lady… You take your bites, and I’ll take the leftovers back home with me. I live in a shithole-converted garage… No refrigerator, bad plumbing, no heat in the winter. Your leftovers will last me a couple of days.”

  “You can’t live on pastries. That’s not a balanced diet,” She turned to him and their eyes met again. A mistake. She felt the breath leave her body as he jerked backwards, a surprised expression on his face. She was sure whatever silliness she was feeling, he felt too. She looked down at her hands and wished Laura and Serge would come get her already. “Why don’t you move?”

  “I’m broke,” he replied.

  “You’re young, all young people are broke,” she shrugged, “What do you do for a living?”

  “I’m not that young. I do as little as possible.”

  “But what is it you do, when you do as little possible?” She tilted her head up but avoided looking directly at him. She didn’t want to risk another rush of the crushing joy.

  “You ask a lot of questions, but I’ll answer them because I’m taking these muffins home with me. Mostly film production, a set runner, get the coffee. If I’m broke, like I was this morning, I’ll answer a Craigslist ad, deliver a package. Big money in that, got my tickets taken care of…”

  “Have you considered what’s in the packages?” Faye scooted away, not much at all but she did successfully make her displeasure with his choices known, “Drugs, what else could it be? You could go to jail for that, and you shouldn’t be telling strangers. I could be a police officer on lunch break.” She pointed down the road towards the municipal building they had both just come from.

“I don’t ask what’s in the packages… And I don’t take drugs, well not too many. Club drugs when I’m out… And you’re not a cop. I get people and you’re not a narc.” He shoved the croissant in his mouth.

  Faye watched him chew with gusto. There was something so familiar to her about him. Adam had the same reckless quality when she had first met him but he had been ambitious. He had been driven, wanting to make money, grab all he could, and he did. Holding on to money was Adam’s problem.

  “You’re cheeky and amoral,” she laughed gently.

  “If it’s not me, they’ll hire someone else. The drugs are going to get where they’re going. They always have, and they always will. I don’t do it that much anyway. Only when I’m stuck like this.” He took a scone from the high pile.

  “Aren’t you worried about getting arrested?”

  “Me?” He laughed, his body rocked against Faye’s. She resisted the urge to curl up onto him, “I’m a white boy. I look like an angel. Cop’s aren’t going to stop me.”

  “You do look like an angel,” Their eyes met and for the briefest of moments Faye was sure the boyish man was going to kiss her.

  “Faye,” Laura’s voice boomed through the outdoor seating area of the coffeehouse, pulling Faye out of the dream-like moment, “There you are…”

  “Just having some coffee,” Faye held her cup up to Laura as if she needed to provide proof.

  “You could easily buy the coffeehouse,” She held a check out to Faye, “You’re a very rich woman, Ms. Petrov.” Faye took the check from her and felt the heat of the boyish man look over her shoulder.

  “Lottery? I thought you were taking care of parking tickets like me…”

  “Maybe you don’t “get” people as well as you think.” Faye stood up and didn’t look back at the boyish man.

  “Serge is going to meet us as the bank…” Laura said to Faye as they walked away.

 “Hey rich lady,” He called out, laughing, “Be my benefactor. I’m starving out here.”

  “A benefactor suggests that you as the benefactee, have a goal, usually artistic. Do you have a goal? What is it you want to be?” She turned to him, a smile stuck on her face.

  “Lady, I’ll be whatever you want me to be.” He tilted his head and stared deeply in her eyes. She wished he would stop doing that. Her insides turned to jelly.

  “I don’t know what you mean by that… But I think I can help you.” She dug into her handbag and pulled out a set of keys and the checkbook for her new identity. She tore the check, leaving only the address of her imposter apartment on the beach.

  “A one bedroom apartment overlooking the beach in Venice. It’s fully furnished, so no need to bring your, I’m sure highly questionable, furniture with you. It’s quite nice, refrigerator, a heater that works, air conditioning, secured parking for your car that won’t start. There’s ten months left on the lease, more than enough to pursue your “art”.” She dropped the keys and scrap of paper on the table and turned back to Laura.

  “Are you serious?” He asked.

  “Yes, I am.” Faye glanced back at him, “Don’t make a mess of it. Don’t make me regret this. No loud parties, blaring music and no club drugs. I’ll call the building manager and let him know my nephew will be staying there. My nephew would be you.” She felt a shiver of shock, lying was coming far to easily for her.

  “Lady,” He looked down at the deposit slip, “Faye, I was just kidding but if you’re serious—

  “I am serious about you not destroying the apartment.”

  “I’ll be good… Don’t you want to know my name?”

  “Not really. This will be our last communication.”

  “It’s Nick, Nick Andrews, and thank you.” His eyes met hers again, and she forcefully shook her head away.

“All the heartbreakers are always named Nick.” Faye said as she walked away with Laura.

  “What did you just do?” Laura asked.

  “I’ve allowed myself the privilege of making one frivolous mistake with the money. I assumed the mistake would be me buying a couture dress better suited to an evening at the Met than my quiet life of dinner parties with friends but this is fun too.”

  “I’m sure it is… That kid was gorgeous… Be careful, money does things…”

  “Believe me, I’m aware of all the dangers. I’ve been binge watching lottery horror stories… But thank you for the reminder.”

  “You have planned well… You’ll be good,” She patted Faye’s arm, “We have to rush. Serge has a meeting later in the day and we want to take you to a celebratory lunch first. The Ivy, so good… I love it there.”

  “I haven’t eaten there in years. Thank you.”

  Faye was relieved that Laura’s mention of Serge’s name didn’t send the familiar butterflies to her heart. Happily relieved. For the briefest of moments, she fiercely craved Adam’s company. But not the present-day Adam, the Adam she met as a girl. The powerful feeling overwhelmed her, and she felt faint again. A psychologist was definitely in order, she thought to herself.

  Nick, the boyish man, left her thoughts completely.

An excerpt from
Trashed by Paloma Meir

   Finished with breakfast, I told my mother I was going for a bike ride. It was not a lie. I did ride my bike four blocks down the road to Serge’s house.