Sam stretched his arms across the back of the sofa and smirked. “Well, I did my best. And my best is pretty irresistible. So what do you think—should we hire a jazz band or an orchestra? See, I think jazz band. But the professor seems like the orchestra type to me—violins and French horns. Frilly-cuff music. Oh, and we could get somebody to cater.…”
Jericho dropped the newspaper in Sam’s lap. “When were you going to tell me?”
“Gee, Freddy,” Sam said quietly, pushing the newspaper aside. “I, uh, didn’t want to rub it in.”
“Seems exactly like something you’d want to do. And don’t call me Freddy.” Jericho crossed to the fireplace, poking at the embers till they blazed.
“Did you ever consider that maybe you got me figured all wrong?” Sam said.
Jericho didn’t turn away from the fire. “I’m pretty sure I’ve got you figured exactly right. You’re a thief. You steal things. And people.”
Usually Sam enjoyed the friendly competition over Evie’s affections, but just now, he felt like a real heel. He didn’t know exactly what had happened between Jericho and Evie. Maybe they’d kissed. Maybe more than that. But whatever had taken place was a romance of circumstances, he was certain. Surely Jericho had to know he was all wrong for Evie. Jericho spent his nights reading or painting Civil War models. Evie was a bearcat, the life of the party. She’d eat him alive. The more Sam thought about it, the more he came to think that it was better this way. He’d snooped in Jericho’s room, looking for clues to Project Buffalo, and he’d found the letters that Jericho had started to Evie and never sent. It bordered on what his old man would call nebbishy. This phony romance would give Jericho time to lick the last of his wounds and move on. In four weeks, he’d be a new man. It would be, “Evie who?” And Sam would help Jericho along. He owed the giant that much. In fact, he’d be doing the big lug a favor.
“Listen, pal, I feel lousy about the way you found out about Evie and me. Let me make it up to you. How’s about you and me go out on the town sometime, huh?”
Jericho narrowed his eyes. “You. And me.”
“We could go to the fights, or head to the Kentucky Club to hear Duke Ellington play. I could introduce you to some girls. It’d be swell times!” He gave Jericho his most convincing smile.
Jericho didn’t return it. “I’m not going to dignify that with a response, especially when we have more important matters to tend to. We’ve got a museum to save and an exhibit to put together, if you recall.”