Chapter Text
Julie sat and listened as her normally unflappable old college roommate, Sam, laid out the scenario facing her wedding planning business.
“So the captain of the USWNT and her supermodel fiancée are getting married in a little over two weeks, and someone is trying to sabotage the wedding. This is basically the lesbian equivalent of a royal wedding, and if anything goes wrong, I’m screwed.” Julie had never heard Sam’s voice reach that pitch before and judging by the look on her face, she was about to ascend to new heights that only dogs and dolphins might be able to hear.
“Okay. I’ll need a list of your employees, suppliers, contractors, ex-employees, the invite list for the wedding, and anyone else you think might be connected in even the slightest way. I can start interviews tomorrow if you get me through the information.”
Sam’s voice went up another octave. “You can’t go in as a detective. I need to keep this quiet. My reputation as the most prestigious lesbian wedding planner on the west coast is on the line.”
“Okay, so I go in wanting to plan a special event. Say, an anniversary dinner for a good friend?”
Sam shook her head. “I don’t do events. I do weddings. Lesbian weddings.”
“New hire? Surely there’s a job I could do that gets me in front of the right people.”
Sam shook her head. “No. I run pretty tight operation. There’s nowhere I could slip you in that would give you enough access.” She paused for a moment, before continuing, “On the other hand, I’m sure I can make room in my schedule for my very good friend Julie and her beautiful fiancée who are planning an intimate wedding at very short notice.”
Julie looked over to where Megan was taking notes. The frown creasing Megan’s brow reflected Julie’s own concern at the size of the task and the timeframe they had to complete it in. She forced herself to smile. “Okay. Let’s do it. I’ll let you know tomorrow what my story is and who my lovely fiancée is going to be.”
“You’re not seeing anyone?” Sam asked.
Julie ignored the sound of Megan snort-laughing in the corner. “No I’m not. Work keeps me very busy.”
They went through a few more details and then Julie walked Sam out. When she returned to the office Megan’s frown had turned to full-blown worry.
“Do you really think we can pull this all together in two weeks?”
“We have to. I owe her a favour. A big one.”
“I’ll get right on it.”
*****
The next morning, Megan walked in with a couple of coffees in a tray in one hand and a folio in the other. She placed both down on Julie’s desk. Julie looked for the usual paper bag that Megan would usually be juggling as well and pouted a little when she didn’t see it.
“No muffins?”
“No muffins,” Megan grimly confirmed. “Their oven is broken, so the pickings were slim. Which is equally the case for this.” Megan pointed at the folio.
Julie drank her sadly unaccompanied coffee and flicked through the folio. She grew increasingly frustrated with each page she turned. “Seriously? This one looks like a distant Kardashian cousin.” She flipped another page. “And this one’s young enough to be my daughter. Gross.”
“Like I said, boss, slim pickings.”
“What about Jax Dawson?”
Megan shook her head. “She booked a regular spot in a sitcom a few weeks ago.”
“How do you feel about pretending to marry me? I have my own business, a nice apartment, and my family’s only moderately fucked up. Some people would say I’m a catch.”
Megan rolled her eyes. “You know I don’t do undercover. Besides, no one would ever buy us as a couple.”
“Are you saying you’re out of my league?”
“I’m saying that you literally give me night terrors and that’s probably not a good foundation for a marriage, even a fake one.”
Julie contemplated her options. “Maybe at the end of this case we could talk about that raise you were asking about…”
Megan shook her head. “Not a chance. And we’re going to discuss that raise anyway.”
“Crap. I really need to make this work.” Julie racked her brain for anyone who might fit the bill and came up with a big fat blank.
Megan’s eyes brightened, suddenly bluer than their already impossible blue, and Julie was instantly suspicious. “You know, I might just have an idea… Give me a couple of hours and I’ll let you know.”
“Okay. I’ve just got to go do some location work for the Knightcliff job. I’ll be back in a bit.”
*****
When Julie got back from a fruitless two hours of trying to catch yet another mediocre man cheating on his much more interesting wife, Megan was hovering by the door waiting for her. She’d messaged to say she’d found the perfect candidate.
She narrowed her eyes at the way Megan was shifting from foot to foot. “You look a little bit squirrelly. What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” The smile she got alongside the response was way too bright.
She side-eyed Megan. “Okay.” She followed Megan inside to the office, where she was greeted by just about the last person she would have chosen as a fake fiancée.
“Hey Froggy.” Didi beamed at her, her nose crinkling, and Julie immediately felt off balance, like she always did with Didi. “Wanna get hitched?”
“No. Absolutely not.” She directed this at Megan, ignoring Didi’s mocking question. In fact, she did her absolute best to ignore Didi entirely, refusing to acknowledge the soft-looking button-down shirt she was wearing, or the way one of her tattoos poked out just past the sleeve, or the way Didi’s hair curled just so around her ear, begging for her to reach out and push it back.
Megan pursed her lips. “You asked me to find you someone. So I did. Age appropriate, believable, available.”
Julie turned her attention to Didi, who had not lost the mocking smile yet. She hadn’t seen Didi since Charles’ PI celebration where she’d pushed down every bit of embarrassment she’d ever felt and apologized to Didi. They’d kind of cleared the air, but Julie still didn’t know quite why Didi seemed to willingly be here. And whatever version of clearing the air they’d done, it certainly didn’t mean she was ready to have Didi in her space full time for the next couple of weeks.
“Surely you’re too busy at Pacific View. We have a really tight timeline and I’m going to be meeting with suspects at all hours of the day. I need my partner in the operation to be around most of the time to keep my cover.” She offered Didi an out and was sure she’d take the opportunity.
“Corporate is forcing me to take three weeks off. They’ve shut off my access card so I can’t even go in to work.”
“What about Hawaii? I’ve heard it’s nice this time of year. Or…” Julie racked her brain for another holiday destination and came up blank, because the last time she’d had dreams about holiday destinations she’d been around 5 years old, and she didn’t think Disneyland would have quite the same attraction to Didi, currently aged somewhere in her late 30s.
“I thought I’d save Hawaii for our fake honeymoon seeing as you love it so much.” That shit-eating grin was back, and Julie really wished she knew why Didi was so determined to torment her.
“God dammit. Fine.” And leaving aside everything Julie thought about Didi, she knew that Didi would be good at this. If she could turn Charles Nieuwendyk into a detective, then Didi Santos Cordero, who’d already beaten her once, would be a piece of cake.
Megan smirked as Julie conceded and mouthed a mocking, “You’re welcome,” to the thanks that Julie most definitely had not expressed.
So, she was doing this, and somehow she was going to have to survive two weeks in Didi’s presence.
“Okay. Can you come back tomorrow and we’ll go over your cover, once I’ve got it all figured out?” She started to move towards her desk, pausing when she noted
Didi tilted her head. “You know, I kind of want to see what you do from this side, having been the target before. And I’ve got nothing better to do right now.”
“I’m going to be working late to get this all done.”
“And I’m a workaholic who never sleeps. We’re a perfect match.”
Julie pasted on a grimace of a smile, trying to ignore the way her stomach swooped a little at that last bit. “Great. Love that. Megan, I’m going to need coffee. All of the coffee. Yesterday.”
“On it boss.” Megan scurried away, leaving Julie alone with Didi. She finally took a seat at her desk, and opened up her computer to get started.
“So, I’ve already got my cover built. Julia Sokolova, daughter of a Russian oligarch, educated over here. Disgustingly rich, never worked a day in my life.” She showed Didi the fake articles she’d created, all conveniently in Russian: pictures of her falling out of a taxi in a party dress, graduation photos, paparazzi-style photos of her on holidays at a dozen exclusive destinations. She’d sprinkled in a couple of bits and pieces in English, just enough to fill the lie out.
Didi leaned a hand on the back of Julie’s chair, looking over her shoulder, and Julie tried her best not to try and analyze Didi’s perfume that suddenly tickled at her nose.
“It’s that easy? You just slip into heiress mode like it’s nothing. How long did it take you to pull this together?”
“I wouldn’t say it’s easy, but I’ve done this more than once and she’s an adaptation of a cover I’ve used before. Do you have any preferences around who you want to be?”
Didi shrugged. “Can’t I be your boring, anonymous fiancée who you met doing something completely normal? Like, maybe we met when I helped you with your taxes or something.”
Julie shook her head. “Nope. Julia Sokolova wouldn’t go for that. You need to be superficially interesting enough to get her attention. And you need an excuse to have been in her circle. There’s no way she’s marrying the help. Screwing her maybe, but definitely not marrying.” She looked at Didi for a moment, trying to create a character. She usually tried to keep things as simple as possible – less mistakes that way – but sometimes the nature of a job called for something a little more elaborate.
Didi rolled her eyes. “Wow, you’re such a catch. Marrying you is all I’ve ever dreamed of.” Didi thought for a moment then eventually volunteered, “Fine. I’m going to be an artist. Sculptor.”
Julie nodded. “Okay. Are we thinking Damien Hirst, or Rodin or somewhere in between? I can work with this.”
“Definitely not Damien Hirst.”
She opened Didi’s file, switching to the photo tab in her contact management software and shook her head. None of these would do. She could always try to photoshop Didi into something a little more convincing for the role she was supposed to be playing, but the base material she had to work with was definitely lacking.
“You have a file on me?”
Julie shrugged. “I have a file on everyone.”
“What does mine say?”
“Apart from you thinking I’m a remorseless bottom-feeding two-faced rat?” She gestured at the mouse. “Go ahead. Read it if you want.”
She watched Didi hesitate then shake her head. “No. I don’t want to know.”
“Suit yourself.” She stood up. “Come on, we need to get some photos of you dressed in something that wasn’t already out of fashion by the time George Bush Senior was in the White House.”
Didi glared at her. “My clothes are comfortable and practical and they make the residents at Pacific View feel safe.”
“Safe isn’t going to sell this. I need you in something that’s going to get the residents of Pacific View asking for a few extra doses of their heart medication.”
She walked over and pressed the lever by the bookshelf to open up her character closet. She could feel Didi behind her, peering in over her shoulder. She grabbed a few pieces, lingering for a moment, then finally picking up a buttery soft black leather jacket that she instantly knew she wanted to see Didi in.
She threw the pile at Didi. “Here. Get changed.”
She stepped out of the small room and went back to her desk, trying to focus without thinking about what Didi might look like when she stepped out. The reality when Didi finally emerged was far more than she’d even imagined. Tight, dark jeans hugged curves that had only ever been hinted at under the oversized clothes Didi normally wore. A tank top showed off all of the tattoos Julie had caught a glimpse of and revealed several more that Julie traced with her eyes in detail, committing them to memory. Then, Didi was shrugging on the leather jacket, and Julie had to stop herself from walking over and grabbing her by its lapels.
She frowned, looking at Didi and the outfit she’d compiled, trying to figure out what else it needed. She finally let herself walk over to Didi, trusting herself to do no more than what she needed to do to create the perfect cover. She ruffled Didi’s hair a little, then stood back, satisfied with her work.
She picked up her camera, gesturing for Didi to follow her.
“Lean against the wall, look brooding for me. This is your shot for your biography on your website.” Julie flicked through the shots and shook her head at Didi’s first attempts.
“You can do better. Think about every time you’ve ever wanted to kill me.” That had Didi pulling comical faces and holding a fake knife above her head making stabbing motions at the camera. She snapped a shot of Didi collapsed against the wall sobbing with laughter. It wasn’t what she was going for, but it was a good photo, Didi looking soft and raw and open, and she felt a warmth in her chest looking at it.
“Sorry, Froggy, there’s just so many times I’ve wanted to kill you that I couldn’t land on just one method.”
Julie sighed. This was going to be a long night. “Fine. I want you to look at the camera like I’m someone you actually want to fuck.” Rather than you thinking I’m the most repulsive person in the world, her brain helpfully added internally.
Didi cleared her throat, suddenly awkward in a way that Julie felt all the time. “Uh, sure.”
“Pretend that I’m the last person on earth if you really have to and it’s been really, really lonely. Pretend that…” she racked her brain for an attractive male celebrity (not high on the list of her fields of interest) and then remembered one that Megan had been going on about a couple of weeks ago. “Pretend that Chris Hemsworth is standing right behind me.”
She barely heard the muttered, “Not really my type, but okay.”
She took a moment to set up the shot and yes, this was the one. Didi turned slightly to one side leaning against the wall, arms folded, jacket slipping off her right shoulder, hooded eyes staring straight down the body of the camera. Julie felt that gaze like two fingers of whiskey burning all the way down. And damn, imaginary Chris Hemsworth was one hell of a lucky man. She took a series of shots, closeups and longer range until she was satisfied she had enough to work with.
“Okay. You can relax now.” She walked over to Didi and held out the camera for her to see the photos she’d taken. “Meet Didi Martinez.”
Didi took the camera from her and peered down at the pictures on the small screen. “These don’t look anything like me.”
“That’s kind of the point.”
She watched as Didi nodded to herself and she could almost hear the internal pep talk going on.
“Okay. I’m Didi Martinez,” she finally said, and it was like she was looking at a different person. The voice was pitched an octave lower, there was a different set to her shoulders and the overall effect was unnervingly attractive. Different to Didi Santos Cordero, who was disarmingly attractive in her own way.
“You’re surprisingly good at this.”
Didi tilted her head, and the effect was gone. “Theatre geek in high school. You’re looking at the female lead of Chicago from the Clear Water High class of 2003 production.”
“Congratulations on your incredible achievement.” Julie fell back on sarcasm to distract from the overall effect that Didi was having, both with her competence, which had always been a turn-on for Julie, and just the overall effect of seeing her like this. Julie looked down at Didi’s hands, still holding the camera and frowned. “The nails need to go. No one will ever believe this if you’ve got nails like that.”
“Me being a sculptor?” Didi smiled in a way that had her questioning if she knew what Julie was talking about. She held up a hand displaying her manicure prominently. “I’ve never had complaints before.”
“Ugh. Why are you being so painful?”
Didi’s gaze hardened, and Julie wasn’t sure what it meant. “The nails stay.”
Julie shrugged. “Oh-kay then. The nails stay.”
Trying to defuse the weird energy that had just taken over the room, Julie said, “There’s a bar just down the street. We should take a few pictures out in the world – I need something for my Instagram.”
“You do Instagram?” Didi looked at her like she’d grown a second head.
“No, but Julia Sokolova does, and there’s no way she’s keeping her fiancée hidden.”
*****
One bar turned into four, and even though Julie clearly had enough photos to fill a thousand fake Instagram accounts, Didi wasn’t quite ready for the night to be over. It wasn’t difficult for Didi to slip into the role Julie needed her to play, because faking attraction to Julie was just about the easiest thing in the world considering Didi was already well and truly there. And maybe she should have confessed about her long game when she had the chance to, but she’d found herself holding back, nervous about the possibility that Julie would shoot her down. It had been a long time since anyone had gotten under her skin like this and longer still since she’d allowed herself to really acknowledge it and entertain the possibility that she might try to make something of it.
She’d been happy working a hundred hours a week, sleeping in her office at times, with her main social life being the ever-fascinating interpersonal dramas of the Pacific View residents. But Julie, who’d at first just been sweet, normal Emily, Charles’ daughter had piqued her interest, and then weird, terrifyingly smart PI Julie had kept that interest going to the point that when Megan had furnished an opportunity to find out more, she’d seized it with both hands. And every new thing she’d learned had just left her more fascinated and more determined to know Julie, so when Megan had asked her to do this, Didi had jumped at the chance.
She picked up Julie’s phone and opened the camera again. And okay, she’d maybe had a couple too many glasses of wine, and it was making her a little loose and unfocused. She leaned into Julie’s side, her lips hovering next to Julie’s neck and god she wanted to lean just a little further forward and taste the softest-looking skin she’d ever seen. She frowned at the image on the screen, of Julie sitting painfully upright. “Relax, Froggy,” she whispered, and put her hand on Julie’s knee. “You look like you’re about to be court martialed, not sitting at a bar, enjoying the company of your fiancée.”
She felt Julie’s thigh muscle tense beneath her hand and tamped down on the urge to run her hand further up the expensive fabric of Julie’s suit pants and feel those muscles dance some more.
She regretted pushing Julie a moment later, when she felt Julie lean into her. Her voice, normally so even and controlled was barely more than a rasp in Didi’s ear. “Is this better?” Julie said, turning towards her, her hand coming up to cup Didi’s cheek.
And Didi’s hands shook more than a little as she took the selfie, because all she wanted to do was drown in the deep brown of Julie’s eyes and then lean in and close the distance between their lips.
She pulled away, under the pretense of checking out the picture she’d just taken, afraid that if she stayed that close to Julie for a moment longer, she’d give herself away. As it was, she wondered if Julie had already managed to see straight through her.
She took a sip of her drink and then turned to Julie again. “So, just checking there’s no jealous significant other I need to be aware of who might get the wrong idea about all of this?”
“Definitely not. I don’t really date.” More quietly, Julie said, “I’m not good with people. Not like that.”
“Don’t you ever get tired of being alone?”
“Don’t you?” was Julie’s immediate counter.
“I do okay for myself.” Didi couldn’t help but be indignant, even though the last date she’d been on was nearly two years ago and she hadn’t even realized it was supposed to be a date; a meeting with one of the residents’ grandsons had turned out to be a setup.
Julie fixed her with the look she tended to get when she was trying to solve a particularly difficult case. It was one that Didi was becoming increasingly familiar with, because it seemed to be directed at her on a semi-regular basis. “So why are you here with me on a Friday night? I’m led to understand that this is prime date time.”
“I owed Megan a favor. And she happened to ask me very nicely.”
That look was back again. “Must have been a pretty big favor. What did she do for you?”
Didi decided not to reveal that the favor was entirely based around her growing attraction to Julie, and that the favor, was, in fact this, and everything that had come before it. She decided to sidestep the question entirely. “It’s getting late. Do you need me for anything else tonight?”
And it was late, but under other circumstances, Didi might have considered staying. But she sensed that Julie would only reveal herself slowly and that if there was the slightest chance of her not scaring Julie off, she should move slowly too.
“No. You should get some rest. I need you tomorrow to go over the rest of the details of the case. We start interviews on Sunday.”
“And let me guess… You’re going back to your office to do some more work.”
Julie smiled lazily. “As if you wouldn’t be if Pacific View hadn’t locked you out.”
She had a point. That had been Didi’s automatic instinct, to head back to Pacific View to catch up on paperwork. She lied, unconvincing to her own ears, and she knew that Julie, trained to pick up on deceit would make her easily. “No. I was going to watch some television. There’s this great series I’ve been watching.”
“Oh yeah? What’s it called? I’m trying to find more things to watch with my mother and I’m only about 25 years behind on pop culture.”
“Okay, fine. I was going to go back to the office.” She waited for Julie to mock her, but the expected jibe didn’t come.
Instead, Julie smiled, her voice like velvet, as she said, “If you’re really good, I might send you some homework to do tonight.”
And god dammit, why was that such a turn on? Didi really needed to get out here before she did something really stupid.
Later, at home, she couldn’t help the little flicker of excitement she felt when her email pinged with a file from Julie. She poured herself a glass of wine and got to reading.