Tennessee “Tenn” Aston sat across from Ron Parker, an old friend and private investigator he hired to follow his wife in front of the Tatte Bakery and Cafe in Boston. “So, what did you find?”
“She’s definitely having an affair, sorry.” Ron pushed the file across the table at him. “Guy’s name is Joel Hudson. He’s a salesperson at the dealership.” Tenn flicked through the pictures, his heart sinking as he saw proof his wife was sleeping with another man.
“Well, if I didn’t think it was possible, I wouldn’t have hired you.” Tenn passed over the check for his services.
“I, uh, did some extra digging, no cost.” Ron passed over an envelope. “The guy is married. His wife is the head librarian at the Boston University Visual Arts Resource Library. She either knows and doesn’t care or is even more in the dark than you were.” Tenn opened the envelope and saw the man his wife was cheating on him with looking down at an attractive woman with long, thick fire-engine-red hair. She laughed at him as they walked, his arm around her shoulders as he kissed her cheek. Tenn was sure he knew her from somewhere. “I took that picture two days ago. I don’t think she knows.”
“You think I should tell her?” Tenn sighed. “I don’t know what I want to do about this.”
Ron leaned forward. “Tenn, how long have we been friends?”
“I don’t know. Ten, fifteen years?” Tenn shrugged. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Have I ever steered you wrong? Trust me. Tell her.”
Tenn studied her picture again. Why did she look so familiar? “Thanks Ron. I will.” He stood up to leave. “Grab a beer when you get back?”
“Absolutely.”
Tenn stood in front of the Library of Visual Arts. It was almost closing time, and he was hesitant to enter, find Joel Hudson’s wife, and tell her that her husband was cheating on her with his wife. Adjusting his glasses, he ran his hand through his black hair. He would want to know. He tightened his hand on the folder and went in to find her.
He approached the resources desk, and a woman around his age with bubblegum pink hair greeted him cheerfully. “Hi, can I help you?”
“Yeah, I’m looking for a Quinn Hudson. She’s a librarian here.”
“No librarians with the last name Hudson. You must mean Quinn Turner.”
“Uh, she has bright red hair.” Now even her name was familiar, but he still couldn’t figure out why.
“Yeah, that’ll be Quinn Turner. Just a second.” She picked up a phone and hit a button. “Hey Jake, where’s Q today?” She listened for a second. “Thank you!” She drew the “you” out, then hung up and smiled at him. “Quinn’s on the third floor. Take a right when you get off the elevator, go down the hall, and she should be in the first room on the left.”
“Thanks.” When Tenn got off the elevator, he followed the directions and came to a large room full of shelves of large books of photography and artwork prints. Quinn Turner stood by a cart of more books, sorting them into piles. She looked up and smiled at him.
“Hi, looking for something in particular?” Tenn blinked. The photograph didn’t do her justice. The red hair was definitely not natural, but it suited her perfectly; her smile was warm and welcoming, and she had a full bottom lip made for biting and a perfect cupid’s bow top lip. Her eyes were emerald green and framed by dark lashes. He swallowed. Immediate attraction. Fuck, he was going to kill Ron. He knew what he was doing by sending him there.
Realizing he was staring, he swallowed again and cleared his throat. “Yeah, we need to talk.”
Quinn raised a dark, arched eyebrow. “We do? Do we know one another?”
“No.” Tenn shook his head. “My name is Tennessee Aston -“
“From the Museum of Fine Arts?” Her eyes brightened. “You got my email?”
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“I’m sorry? You emailed me?” Tenn was thrown off and blinked in confusion. Did she already know and was trying to reach him?
“Yeah, I’m trying to put together a series of lectures by people in the Visual Arts community. You’re the foremost art historian on the East Coast! I wanted a meeting to see if I could convince you to speak.” She looked him up and down. “You look different on your book jacket.”
“The stylist played up the stuffy English professor-look for that.” Tenn nodded and smiled, understanding why she wouldn’t have recognized him. At six-two, with broad shoulders, he was wearing jeans, a T-shirt, and a hoodie under his black leather jacket instead of the dress shirt and tweed jacket he had been put in. He wore horn-rimmed glasses, but his black hair was longish, wavy, and messy, not combed down and professionally styled. He knew he looked more like a nerdy biker than an art historian, something the stylist said would make people not take him seriously.
“No kidding.” Quinn chuckled. “If that’s not why you’re here, why are you looking for me?”
The smile fell from his face. “Can I buy you a drink?”
“A drink?” She bit her bottom lip, and Tenn fought the urge to do the same. Where the hell was this coming from?
“Yeah.” Tenn held up the folder. “We have something important to discuss, and I need a drink.”
“Okay. Meet you at Audubon in twenty minutes?” There was evident curiosity on her face about what he wanted to discuss.
“See you there.” Tenn nodded.
Thirty minutes later, Tenn watched as Quinn walked into Audubon and looked around, spotting him in a quiet corner booth; she walked over and slid across from him. “Sorry, Rilla was curious about you, and I just got away.”
“Rilla?” Tenn raised his eyebrow.
“Girl with pink hair.” Quinn grinned at him as the bartender called out and asked if she wanted her regular; she turned around and waved at the woman. “Yes, please and thank you Denise.” She called back.
“Come here a lot?” Tenn asked when she faced him again.
“Best food on campus. So, Mr. Aston, what did we need to talk about?”
“Tenn, please. You’re married to Joel Hudson?”
“Yeah, you want to talk about Joel?” Quinn furrowed her brow as Denise put her drink in front of her, and she thanked her before taking a sip.
“No. I don’t want to talk about him; we have to talk about him and my wife.” He pushed the folder across the table. She opened it, and he watched as her face dropped, and with every picture, resignation slowly settled on her features, and she leaned back in the booth when she was done.
“Well. I want to say I’m surprised, but since I just gave him an ultimatum to either prove he wanted our marriage to work by putting in some effort or get out, I’m not.” She closed the folder and looked up at him. “When was the last time they were together?”
“According to my PI, last weekend.”
“He told me he was at a conference in New York.”
“The conference was real. They shared a hotel room.” Tenn was alarmed as a red flush rose up her neck and spread across her cheeks.
“Fucking Prick.” She spit out. “Him, not you.”
“I figured.” Tenn smiled apologetically. “I can get you copies of everything.”
“Please. Would you be interested in revenge and messing with them before we end things?” She smiled wickedly.
That gave Tenn pause. He felt frozen and numb since he saw the evidence. He and Viki had been married for eleven years; finding out she was cheating after losing her job at an upscale hotel and taking two years off to “discover” herself on his dime while he had done his best to be supportive was a kick to the guts. She started working at the Porsche dealership after he finally pushed her to return to work when he had to move money over from his savings to pay the bills. Viki had been resentful about everything initially, but after two months, she warmed up to the job and was more cheerful at home.
“What did you have in mind?”
“You and your wife should come to dinner tomorrow evening to discuss your participation in my lecture series. And we should hit it off and become fast, close friends.”
“You really think they’d care?” Tenn said doubtfully.
“Maybe, maybe not. But we can have fun and make it awkward by doing double dates.” Quinn smirked.
“What’s your address?” Tenn made a contact for her on his phone and handed it to her. He was willing to do whatever he could to get back at Viki for doing this to him. Quinn grinned at him, took his phone, added her information, and sent herself a text to add his number to hers.
“Tomorrow at six?”
“Sounds good to me. Want to tell me about your lecture series? So I know what you’re talking about tomorrow?”
Quinn nodded and explained her thought process and idea. When she was finished, Tenn found himself interested in it. “You know, if you want help with this, I’d be happy to. I know a few people who would be interested in talking and helping out.”
“Really?” A delighted smile spread across Quinn’s face.
“Yeah, I think this sounds like an excellent idea.” Tenn nodded enthusiastically. “I’ll make some phone calls, send some emails and see who I can get in touch with. How many speakers did you want?”
“Six weeks, so six speakers?”
“Not a problem.”