The Love Scam - MaryJanice Davidson Page 0,50

to be part of. “Hey, it’s fine.”

“No.”

He decided it was good that Sofia had interrupted them. If she hadn’t, he would have made a bigger fool of himself than usual. Nothing like putting the moves on a woman you knew (a) you weren’t worthy of, (b) had no interest in you, and (c) might be skittish about sex in general through no fault of her own. And since the blood had left his dick and gone back to his brain, he could think (pretty) clearly.

“What, no? Listen, my phone hasn’t fixed all my problems yet.” In response to their stares, he elaborated. “I mean, it will, give it time, but I’ve only had the thing for an hour and Blake’s gone crazy, my money’s still missing, we still can’t call the cops, I still have to crash with Delaney at least one more night”—Yaaaaay!—“and pay for breakfast in the morning. I’d be glad for the chance to earn some more money.”

Wow. What was happening to him and yet another charitable impulse? It definitely wasn’t a niggling fear that Blake had been telling the truth about everything. It definitely wasn’t a way to postpone finding that out one way or the other. And it wasn’t a way to keep hanging out with Delaney and Lillith without making it look like he wanted to keep hanging out with Delaney and Lillith. It was all altruism, all the time: his new motto. He made a mental note to have shirts made. And maybe bumper stickers.

For some reason, Delaney was shaking her head even as Sofia nodded so hard, she probably made herself dizzy. “Grazie, Rake! We need you.”

“We don’t,” came the sharp reply. “Sofia, we can’t let him—”

“Whoa, ‘let me’? Delaney, how’d you like it if some man came along and tried to tell you what to do? Exactly,” he added before she could reply, “you’d drown him in milk or set cows on him or push him into traffic or tickle him until he barfed. I want to help.” (Somewhere, Blake was laughing his ass off.) “I demand you let me help.” (Laughing so hard he choked. Rake hoped he did choke.) “And we still don’t know what those two hoseheads are up to. We haven’t seen them lately, but they did follow us, and one of them tried to grab Lillith. We should all be sticking together.”

“Abbiamo bisogno di lui,” Sofia said quietly.

“That’s right,” he added. “You do need me.”

Delaney was rubbing her temples in that “Rake is giving me a migraine” way he often observed in others trapped in close quarters with him. “Aw, man. Bad idea. Really terrible. But you’re both right.” She looked right at him with her narrow gray gaze. He pretended it didn’t make his knees weak. “Okay. You can help and we’ll stick together. Let’s hope you don’t regret it. That we don’t.”

“That’s the spirit!”

“Yay!” From Lillith, now reemerged and clutching her toothbrush in a small fist. Then: “What are we doing, exactly? I missed that part.”

“It will be as Rake suggested,” Sofia added, pointing to him. “I will tell the others.”

“We’ll need supplies,” Delaney replied. “Um, furniture? Supplies? Right?”

Sofia and Rake both laughed. “Forniture,” Sofia corrected. “How many years have we worked together? Your Italian is shit.”

“Hey, that’s my girl you’re impugning,” Rake protested. He’d finally judged it safe to stand—nothing worse than an erection tenting your shorts to prove you’re a hound with one thing on your mind—and did so just in time to sling an arm around Delaney’s shoulders. “Sorry, woman you’re impugning. She’s doing the best she can with her shitty Italian. Don’t judge.” He held his breath; he had no idea if she’d let him keep his arm there or would drive an elbow (and then maybe a fist, followed by a foot) into his solar plexus.

“Non avrei mai giudicare il mio amico. È molto più difficile su se stessa di quanto potessi mai.”*

And even though Delaney raised her eyebrows in a clear question, Sofia didn’t translate, and seemed satisfied when Rake didn’t, either. Lillith, meanwhile, just watched like it was a riveting tennis match. She probably knew more about what was going on than Rake did. Scratch probably, now that he thought about it. The kiddo didn’t miss much.

“So what are we doing? More baskets? Deliveries? Meals on Wheels?”

“We won’t be doing any of that.” Sofia had left the room as rapidly as she’d burst into it, probably in search of a good hairdresser, with Lillith on her heels.