“This actually isn’t a terrible idea,” Rex said.
“Well, it makes both of us look bad,” I said.
“Sure,” Rex said.
“But it will sell tickets,” Harry said.
Rex smiled and then looked me right in the eye, put out his hand, and shook mine.
* * *
“NO ONE’S GOING to believe it,” Harry said as we drove to the tennis club later that morning. “People in town, at least.”
“What do you mean?”
“You and me. There are a lot of people who will dismiss it right out of hand.”
“Because . . .”
“Because they know what I am. I mean, I’ve considered doing something like this before, maybe one day even taking a wife. God knows it would make my mother happy. She’s still sitting there, in Champaign, Illinois, desperately wondering when I’ll find a nice girl and have a family. I would love to have a family. But too many people would see through it.” He looked at me briefly as he drove. “Just as I’m afraid too many people will see through this.”
I looked out my window at the palm trees swaying at their tops.
“So we make it undeniable,” I said.
The thing I liked about Harry was that he was never one step behind me.
“Photos,” he said. “Of the two of us.”
“Yeah. Candids, looking like we’ve been caught at something.”
“Isn’t it easier for you just to pick someone else?” he said.
“I don’t want to get to know someone else,” I said. “I’m sick of trying to pretend I’m happy. At least with you, I’ll be pretending to love someone I really do love.”
Harry was quiet for a moment. “I think you should know something,” he said finally.
“OK.”
“Something I’ve thought I should tell you for some time.”
“OK, tell me.”
“I’ve been seeing John Braverman.”
My heart started beating quickly. “Celia’s John Braverman?”
Harry nodded.
“For how long?”
“A few weeks.”
“When were you going to tell me?”
“I wasn’t sure if I should.”
“So their marriage is . . .”
“Fake,” Harry said.
“She doesn’t love him?” I asked.
“They sleep in separate beds.”
“Have you seen her?”
Harry didn’t answer at first. He looked as if he was trying to choose his words carefully. But I had no patience for perfect words.
“Harry, have you seen her?”
“Yes.”
“How does she seem?” I asked, and then thought of a better question, one more pressing. “Did she ask about me?”
While I had not found living without Celia to be easy, I did find it easier when I could pretend she was a part of another world. But this, her existing in my orbit, made everything I had been repressing come bubbling up.
“She didn’t,” Harry said. “But I suspect it’s because she didn’t want to ask, rather than not wanting to know.”
“But she doesn’t love him?”
Harry shook his head. “No, she doesn’t love him.”
I turned my head and looked back out the window. I imagined telling Harry to drive me to her house. I imagined running to her door. I imagined dropping to my knees and telling her the truth, that life without her was lonely and empty and quickly losing all meaning.
Instead, I said, “When should we do the picture?”
“What?”
“The picture of you and me. Where we make it look like we’ve been caught in an affair.”
“We can do it tomorrow night,” Harry said. “We can park the car. Maybe up in the hills, so photogs can find us but the picture will look secluded. I’ll call Rich Rice. He needs some money.”
I shook my head. “This can’t come from us. These gossips aren’t playing ball anymore. They are out for themselves. We need someone else to call it in. Someone the rags will believe wants me to get caught.”
“Who?”
I shake my head the moment the idea comes to me. I already don’t want to do it the moment I realize I have to.
* * *
I SAT DOWN at the phone in my study. I made sure the door was closed. And I dialed her number.
“Ruby, it’s Evelyn, and I need a favor,” I said as soon as she answered.
“I’m open to it,” she said, not missing a beat.
“I need you to tip off some photographers. Say you saw me necking in a car up in the Trousdale Estates.”
“What?” Ruby said, laughing. “Evelyn, what are you up to?”
“Don’t worry about what I’m up to. You have enough on your plate.”