Cleo flushes pink, which makes me realize I’m right. It’s oddly reassuring that she’s such a shitty liar. I’ve had enough with fake people.
Fine. Scratch the third thing, she admits.
That’s not what I mean, though, I say. How do we convince Marjorie that we’re a couple? Because that feels like a big challenge. And I’m not comfortable lying.
Barb said we didn’t have to pretend anything. We can act exactly like we did last week.
Maybe we could be a bit nicer to each other? You could stop insulting me all the time, I suggest.
Why? It’s not like Marjorie can hear me. Oh, wait, am I getting to you? Cleo’s evil smile tells me I’m in for even more insults.
If we work together, maybe we can secure the donation more quickly. Then we wouldn’t have to do this for the rest of the year, I suggest.
Cleo shakes her head. If I have to do this, I’m doing it my way. Insulting you is the most fun I get to have all evening.
Her stories would actually be funny, if every other remark wasn’t an arrow aimed at me. I park in the circular driveway and walk around to open the passenger door, but she jumps out before I get there.
I’m not fucking helpless, she snarls, slamming the door shut.
It’s called manners, I mutter as I activate the locks. Lana would sit in the car for hours if I didn’t open her door. However, Cleo is certainly not Lana.
We both plaster on pleasant expressions and ring the doorbell.
Geraldine greets us, and once again we are escorted into the sitting room. This time, Marjorie is wide awake.
Cleo and Roy. It’s so lovely to see you again, she says loudly. I hope you’ll forgive an old woman her machinations in getting you to return.
Of course. Visiting your lovely home is not a hardship, I say.
Cleo audibly snorts beside me. As she goes to sit down in a wingback chair, I grab her by the arm. Her eyes widen and her tricep flexes. For a moment, I fear getting punched in the face.
What the fuck, Mats? Rule number one, she hisses, shaking off my grip.
It’s taken. I point to the chair, where an ancient orange cat is snoozing, camouflaged by the floral upholstery.
Oh, shit. Cleo moves to sit on the sofa and raises her voice to apologize. Almost took out your cat there, Marjorie.
I’m sure Mr. Fluffer would let you know, she replies.
I sit on the other end of the sofa and ponder whether Marjorie has any idea of the slang meaning of the verb to fluff. Cleo is trying hard not to laugh, so I assume she’s thinking the same thing.
After hearing his name, the skinny cat stretches and jumps down. He comes over to investigate the visitors. When Cleo reaches down to pet him, Marjorie warns, He’s a bit of a grumpy-pants around strangers.
Too late. Mr. Fluffer has already scratched Cleo’s hand. She grabs a tissue from her pocket and tries to discreetly wipe away the blood while talking about the weather. At least Cleo’s penchant for talking too much comes in handy around here.
I let my own hand dangle beside my leg. The cat comes over to sniff it and the rest of me. When he seems to approve, I give him a top-of-the-head scritch. This goes on for a couple of minutes, then he jumps up on my lap.
Well, would you look at that, Marjorie says. You’re a regular Francis of Assisi.
I like animals. Mr. Fluffer settles his bony frame on my lap and goes right to sleep.
They say you can always trust a man who animals like. Right, Cleo? Marjorie says.
Right you are, Cleo booms, then adds quietly, Of course, there’s an exception to every rule.
Obviously, the universe knows that we’re trying to scam a nice old lady, because Marjorie decrees that tonight’s entertainment will be Cleo and I re-enacting the dances of her youth. The only saving grace is that nobody films us making fools of ourselves. And the exercise turns out to be a good thing, since tonight’s meal is even less nutritional than last week’s. The ham with canned pineapple slices is tolerable, even if I avoid processed meats as a rule. But the side dishes are pretty questionable.
Um, what’s this? I ask, as Geraldine plunks down a large casserole of something brown and white, then starts serving it up. There’s a lot of thick, creamy goo, and something brown and crunchy on top.
