Page 46 of Sweet Animosity

“Var looks like a Bond villain,” I offered.

They both leaned forward. “Really? And his name is Var? How intriguing.”

“It’s short for Varlaam.”

Millie wagged her finger at me. “I like that. It’s a strong, sexy name with just a hint of arrogance. You want that in a man. David is a good name. And he was great in bed.” She swished her flat hand back and forth. “Morty, eh. That’s the name of an accountant or the guy who cleans your gutters, but he wasn’t so great at cleaning out the pipes, if you know what I mean.”

So help me God, I did.

“Ladies, we need to focus. Even if I found the paintings, how am I supposed to sneak them out of the Four Monks? I can’t just roll them up, they’re not canvas. They’re painted on poplar wood planks.”

Barb frowned. “Why would you do that? Sounds very inconvenient.”

“And expensive to frame,” added Millie.

“It wasn’t exactly by choice. That’s what da Vinci painted on.”

Barb and Millie were aware of what we called my “lucrative hobby.” They thought it was great fun to be living next door to a secret art forger. It made them feel very, as they put it, bohemian.

Barb scoffed as the ice in the cocktail shaker rattled in her hand. “Leave it to a man, even one who’s been dead for hundreds of years, to make things inconvenient for a woman.”

I groaned and buried my head in my arms again. “What am I going to do?”

Millie patted my shoulder. “Like I told Barb when we were brought in for that 1992 production of Bertolt Brecht’s The Caucasian Chalk Circle.”

Barb grimaced as she took a sip of her second martini. “Oh, hate that play. Over twenty actors to deal with, all wearing shades of beige. It was an absolute Moose Murder.”

I’d since learned that was theatre talk for a terrible play based on a notorious Broadway flop.

“Anyway,” continued Millie. “I told Barb we can only deal with one train wreck at a time. Find the paintings first. Then we’ll figure out how to get them out of the club.”

I raised my head. “That’s actually good advice.”

“Of course it’s good advice. Don’t act so surprised.”

Okay, this was a solid plan.

I would simply return to Var’s office and play the part until I found the paintings. It would probably only take me an hour or two, and then I’d ghost.

And I’d never have to see Var again.

He would go back to doing his mafia thing, and I’d go back to doing my thing.

Problem solved.

We’d both just be a kinky little memory to one another.

Yup. This was a good plan.

CHAPTER 19

VAR

“So I heard you got bitch slapped by ceiling girl today.” Vaska entered the Red Star sauna and took a seat in the wooden bleachers near the top where the heat would be the most intense.

Swiping the terrycloth from my face, I glared at Anton. “Really?”

Anton adjusted his wool felt hat before leaning back. “Don’t blame me. I only told Brynn.”

---