Amber Kwan, her downstairs neighbor, entered the apartment tentatively. “Is it okay? I wasn’t invited, but…”
“Neither were they,” Piper pointed out. Amber was a slightly overweight twenty-seven-year-old with porcelain skin, shiny black hair, and an insecurity that vanished only when she took the stage as a permanent member of Chicago’s Lyric Opera chorus. Most of Piper’s childhood friends had moved out of the city, and she was grateful to have these three in her life.
“Hello, Mrs. Berkovitz. How are you feeling?”
Berni gave her a tight-lipped nod. Berni didn’t like Amber because she was Korean, but since Amber believed Berni’s age gave her a pass for racial prejudice, she wouldn’t let Piper or Jen confront Berni about it.
“I’m out of vodka,” Piper said. “Beer?”
Amber settled on the edge of the ottoman. “Nothing, thanks. I’ll only stay for a minute.” Amber had moved into the building more than a year ago, but she continued to behave as though she were an interloper in their group, even though Piper and Jen had welcomed her. “I stopped by to see if you’re still thinking about subletting,” she said apologetically.
“No!” Berni declared. “Piper, you’re not going anywhere, and Amber, you shouldn’t have brought this up.”
“I don’t want you to sublet,” Amber said hastily. “But you said you were going to have to, and I have friend who’s a visiting professor at DePaul. He’s looking for a rental.”
Leaving her cozy condo would be like stabbing herself in the heart. But unlike Berni, who wanted to bring her dead husband back to life, Piper was a realist. “Let me sleep on it. I’ll give you an answer tomorrow.”
There wasn’t much to sleep on. She could no longer afford to pay the mortgage on the condo she’d scrimped for years to purchase, and she wouldn’t impose on her friends, despite their offers to let her stay with them. By renting out her condo and moving into the basement of her awful cousin Diane’s two-flat in Skokie, she’d be able to avoid selling this place for a while, and she’d also preserve her friendships.
“The last thing we need is a strange man living here,” Berni said. “I won’t have it.”
Jen didn’t voice an objection. She understood that this was a last resort for Piper. “He’s a friend of Amber’s,” she said, “so he won’t be a stranger.”
“He was one of my professors at Eastman,” Amber said. “A very nice man.”
“I don’t care,” Berni said. “We don’t need a man here.”
Apparently, the gay newlyweds in the downstairs unit didn’t count.
“Having Piper subletting is better than forcing her to sell,” Jen said. “And you know she won’t move in with any of us. It’ll only be until she gets her business on its feet.” She uncrossed her long legs. “Unfortunately, I’ll be unemployed by then. It’s me we should all be worried about, not Piper. She’s tougher than I am. And younger.”
This pronouncement wasn’t as self-centered as it seemed. Jen was taking the heat off Piper. “I know broadcasting too well,” Jen said. “The younger and the blonder, the more the powers that be want to hire them. And Dumb Ass is a sucker for twenty-one-year-olds.” Jen had referred to the new station manager as Dumb Ass for so long that Piper had forgotten his real name.
Jen took a swig of vodka. “Studying meteorology is the new go-to major for every pretty girl who has even a passing interest in science. The colleges are turning them out in macrobursts.”
“Talent is more important than looks,” Amber said loyally, and then quickly added, “not that you aren’t still beautiful.”
Amber was used to being judged only by her agile coloratura-soprano voice, and that made her naive about the television industry. Piper tried to encourage Jen, but growing up as the daughter of Duke Dove had let her see every facet of male sexism. Jen was being held to a different standard than the men at the station were, and she had reason to worry.
Berni shot up from the couch. “I know what I’m going to do!”
“Put out a contract on Dumb Ass for me?” Jen said glumly.
“I’m going to hire Piper to find Howard!”
Piper regarded her with dismay. “Berni, that’s not-”
“I’ll pay you. I’ve been looking for something special to spend my income tax refund on. Nothing could be more special than this.”
“Berni, I couldn’t take your money. Howard had a-”
Another knock sounded on the door, this one more forceful than the others. No one had buzzed her condo, and her usual visitors were already here. She set down her beer, made her way across the carpet, and turned the knob.
He filled the doorway-all long muscles, big shoulders, and powerful chest.
“Hello, Esmerelda.”
3
The barbarian was at her gate. Piper’s stomach plummeted. “How did you get in the building?”
He regarded her with the golden-brown eyes of a wolf ready to devour his prey, not because the wolf was hungry, but just for the hell of it. “Your downstairs neighbors are Stars fans.”
They weren’t the only ones. Berni squawked as though she’d laid an egg. “Cooper Graham!” She jumped up from the couch, agile as a teenager. “Oh, I wish Howard was here! Oh, my goodness.”
Cooper tipped his head to her. “Ma’am.”
“Howard was a Bears fan like Piper,” Berni told him, “but I was born in the western ’burbs in the days when hardly anybody lived out there. I’m Berni Berkovitz. Bernadette, really. I’ve been a Stars fan from the beginning. And Howard always rooted for the Stars. Unless they were playing the Bears,” she amended.
“Understandable.” He was all celebrity graciousness, waiting patiently as she rambled on. Jen, in the meantime, crossed her very shapely legs, dangled her pump from one toe, and swished her dark hair away from her face, waiting to be noticed. Amber, however, was mystified. She could name every obscure composer from the past four centuries, but she barely knew Chicago even had professional sports teams.
Berni was still gushing. “Oh, my, Piper. You said you had an important client, but I had no idea…”
“I’m not a client of Ms. Dove’s.” Cooper stomped on her name as if it were a cockroach. “I’m the person she was hired to investigate.”
Thank you, Officer Hottie, for your big mouth.
Berni sputtered, then turned accusing eyes on Piper. “Really, Piper? Why were you investigating Cooper?”
While Piper tried to unlock her jaw, Jen rose gracefully from the couch. “Jennifer MacLeish. Channel Eight weather. We met at the Children’s Charities Holly Ball last year, but I’m sure you don’t remember.”
“Of course, I do.” His hand engulfed hers. “It’s good to see you again, Ms. MacLeish. Although I can’t say much for the company you keep.”
Amber dashed toward the door. “I’ll leave.”
“Not you, Amber,” Jen said. “He’s talking about Piper.”
Graham nodded. “That’s true.”
Piper took a slug of beer, wishing it were the Stoli.
Berni couldn’t stand Amber’s ignorance. “Amber, this is Cooper Graham. He’s one of the most famous football players in the world. Even you have to have heard of him.”
“Oh, I’m sure I have,” Amber said, sure of no such thing.
“Amber sings with the Lyric,” Jen explained. “She’s both clueless and amazing.”
“I’ll bet I’ve heard you,” Graham said.
Fat chance, Piper thought. Graham would no more darken the halls of the Lyric Opera than he would throw a deliberate interception.
“Ladies, as much as I’ve enjoyed meeting you, I need to talk to Ms. Dove”-another cockroach stomped into oblivion-“about a business matter.”
Amber began to turn to the door, then stopped and moved next to Piper. Jen did the same thing. “Maybe we can help,” she said firmly.