by Shelly Ellis
“I’m not dodging her . . . and I am not a pussy!”
“My friend,” Mike said, taking another sip from his coffee mug, “you are runnin’ scared, and if you were any more of a pussy, you’d be wearing a flea collar.”
Keith sighed. Maybe Mike was right. He was avoiding her. There were several times the past few days when he saw her phone number on his cell phone screen and the alarm bells went off in his head. Only trouble came with a woman like her. But she was still a client. He had to talk to her.
“You know,” Mike said, “if you actually dated women instead of sticking to those one-night stands of yours, you’d be happily married with kids by now and not running away from a client with legs that won’t quit.”
“Whatever, Mike,” Keith said with a laugh, shaking his head.
“I’m serious! I’ve never seen you with any girl longer than two months. What was that one that worked at the hair salon?”
“Candy,” Keith murmured with a smile. She had been a total basket case, but amazing in bed.
“Candy! Yeah! She was a real piece of work. No more dim bulbs like that one, please. It’s time to meet a nice woman. Have some babies! You’re thirty-six now! I know your mother isn’t happy about you still being single either. She tells me all the time that she thinks you should settle down.”
“This from a man who’s still single at sixty-two?”
“Hey, I’m a lone wolf!” Mike shouted, making Keith throw his head back and laugh. “No woman can leash this animal, but you my friend have ‘domesticated’ written all over you.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Keith muttered. “So enough of this talk about babies and marriage. Can we get back to the case now?”
Mike nodded and returned his attention to his bear claw. “Sure,” he said between chews. “Shoot.”
“So I made a call to the woman who owned Isaac’s car.”
“Yeah? What’d she say?”
“She said she knew him . . . very well, actually.”
Mike sat forward again in his chair. “You don’t say. So did she give you any info on him? Did she tell you anything we don’t already know?”
“That’s the catch. She’s willing to talk, but she doesn’t want to do it over the phone. ‘Ladies don’t do such things, Mr. Hendricks,’ ” Keith said, imitating her Southern drawl.
Mike stared at him, confused.
“She wants us to meet in person,” Keith further explained.
“Oh, is that all?” Mike set down his coffee cup and bear claw and threw up his hands. “I thought it was something serious. I guess that means you gotta go meet her then. The clients are paying for the gas mileage. What’s the problem?”
“She’s in South Carolina, Mike.”
Mike’s face instantly fell. “Oh.”
“ ‘Oh,’ exactly.” Keith leaned back in his chair. “I’m not licensed for South Carolina. Neither of us is. Do you know of any PI’s down there that could help us?”
“Off the top of my head . . . No, not really.”
Keith closed his eyes, feeling defeated.
“But . . . that doesn’t mean you can’t keep investigating down there.”
“It’ll be tricky though with no license,” Keith admitted, opening his eyes again. “I can’t use my gun or show my badge.”
“But you can pull it off. If anyone can, I know you will.”
Keith opened his laptop computer. He clicked the ON button and watched as the boot-up screen appeared. “I guess I better start making travel plans then.”
“I guess so,” Mike said, finishing the last of his bear claw.
Chapter 12
“Steph, honey, are you sure this is a good idea?” her sister Lauren asked as she sat on the velvet stool at the end of Stephanie’s four-poster bed.
Stephanie stood in front of the gilded-edged, full-length mirror in her bedroom, gazing at her reflection. She held an ice-blue sundress in front of her. She shook her head and tossed the dress aside. It landed on her settee. She then headed back to her walk-in closet to find another ensemble. She was only wearing a bra, panties, and high heels for the occasion.
“I don’t know if it’s a good idea,” their sister Dawn answered drolly from her perch on Stephanie’s bed, “but she looks like she’s going to do it anyway.” Dawn laughed and took a sip from her wineglass. “Just give up talking her out of it, Laurie. Her mind is set. She’s going!”
Stephanie had finally gotten an update from the elusive PI Keith Hendricks. He told her that he had a possible lead on Isaac and he was heading down south this week to follow up on it. She had told her sisters the good news about the woman in South Carolina who had known Isaac. She also informed them that she would be headed to South Carolina with Keith to meet this woman. The only wrinkle in her plan was that Keith didn’t know she intended to be his traveling companion.
But he’ll get used to the idea, she thought as she eyed a silk tiger-print maxi dress on its padded hanger. She then took it out of her closet.
“I bet the weather is going to be warmer down there. I wanted to pack clothes that are light. So what do you think?” she asked as she turned around to face her sisters. She held the dress in front of her and tilted her head. “I want to look good, but it has to be comfortable enough for a road trip.”
Dawn nodded thoughtfully. “It looks cute.”
“Then I’ll put it with the rest of the selections,” Stephanie said, beaming.
“Seriously, Steph?” Lauren exclaimed. “More clothes?”
“My thoughts exactly. I mean . . . how long are you planning this trip to be?” Dawn asked as she reached for the chilled bottle of pinot grigio sitting on Stephanie’s night table. She then poured a little more into her glass and lowered the bottle back to the table. “You’re only going to South Carolina, right? Isn’t that just a trip that’ll take a couple of days at the most?” She eyed the growing pile of dresses, shorts, shoes, and purses on Stephanie’s bed. “You’ve got enough clothes here to last you for a tour through Europe!”
Stephanie smirked. “A woman has to come prepared.”
“A woman also should think things through,” Lauren argued. “Steph, why are you going to South Carolina? I’m sure the detectives have this covered. They don’t need you there to find Isaac.”
“I’m going to South Carolina to protect my interests, Laurie, and your husband’s money,” Stephanie said as she sat down on the bench facing her mahogany vanity table. She then began to try on a pair of black stilettos. “Cris is paying a pretty penny for this. It only seems right that I make sure Keith is doing his job. You know what Mama always says. If you want something important done, don’t leave it to a man to do it. You have to do it yourself.”
Dawn nodded in agreement while Lauren fumed.
“But you don’t think the private investigator is going to be annoyed having you hanging over his shoulder like this?” Lauren asked.
“Maybe. But frankly, I don’t care!”
Stephanie examined her feet. I should probably get a pedicure before heading to South Carolina, she thought. Her toes were starting to look a little shoddy.
“But what about your work, Steph? Don’t you have showings scheduled? Are you trying to tell me that none of your clients are buying houses?” Lauren asked. “Are they going to be OK with you just disappearing like this?”
“Even a real estate agent is allowed to take a break every now and then, sweetheart.” Stephanie rose to her feet. “I’ll only be gone for a few days. My assistant, Carrie, can handle everything. She’s totally competent. If anything big comes up, she knows how to reach me.”
“But, Steph—”
“No buts!” Stephanie shouted, stomping her foot on the carpeted floor. She was getting tired of Lauren’s constant questioning. “Why are you trying so hard to talk me out of this? I know what I’m doing!”
“Because I don’t think you’ve considered everything before deciding to go on this trip,” Lauren insisted.
“Yes, I have!”
“Oh, is that so?” Lauren tilted her head and gazed up at her older sister. “Have you considered, for instance, what’s it going to be like to be in close quarters for days with a man you’re attracted to?”
Dawn’s brown eyes widened. She set down her wineglass. “Well, this is the first I’m hearing about this one! Stephanie’s attracted to the detective? Ooooo, spicy!”
Stephanie glared at Lauren. “Thanks a lot, big mouth!”
“Well, I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone!”
Stephanie returned to her closet, muttering to herself.
“Why keep something like this secret?” Dawn called after her. “You don’t want anyone to know you like him?”
“She doesn’t just like him. She’s extremely attracted to him,” Lauren continued, undeterred. “In fact, she’s so attracted to him that it makes her uncomfortable to be around him—and she thinks he’s attracted to her too.”
“You don’t say. Well, if the spark is there then the spark is there. Why deny it?” Dawn paused. “Wait, how much do detectives make anyway?”
“Not enough for any one of you,” Lauren mumbled petulantly.
“Does he have a side job?” Dawn asked Stephanie. “A trust fund, maybe?”
“I don’t think so.” Stephanie stepped out of the closet, clutching another dress. “He doesn’t seem like he has a lot of money. His car is pretty old and his office was kind of blah.”
Dawn made a face like she had just smelled dog poop. “Hmmm, I don’t know, Steph. That sounds very blue collar to me.”
Stephanie nodded in agreement. “He seems very blue collar.”
Though she had to admit that since meeting Keith she had contemplated what it would be like to be with a blue-collar guy with a body and a face like his. Just closing her eyes now, she could visualize his sensual mouth, his muscular frame, and those sexy dark eyes. Oh, just thinking about him made her quiver! What would it be like to share a home and bed with a man who didn’t make six figures and didn’t drive a sports car, but could keep her in the passionate throes of sexual delight? But those thoughts came and went like the evening tide. She knew she could never be happy or have a future with a blue-collar guy like Keith Hendricks. They could share a nice roll in the sack, maybe, but that was about it.
“So are you going to do it?” Dawn asked.
“Do what?”
“Are you going to be the first Gibbons girl to hook up with a man with no money?”
“Ewww! No!” Stephanie answered with disgust. “Are you out of your mind?”
“Hey, I’m just asking! Because you know if you did, Mama would lose it,” Dawn insisted. “You already told us she wasn’t too happy to hear about what happened with Isaac. If she finds out you’re hooking up with a detective with no money too, she wouldn’t know what to do with herself. She’d probably drop dead right there.”
Dawn was right. Yolanda Gibbons considered nothing more abhorrent than a man with no money, and she was a woman who practiced what she preached. She encouraged her daughters to date and marry rich men, and she did the same. In fact, she was already well on her way to locking down her sixth husband—a rich widower she had met several months ago. The widower wasn’t the handsomest man, but he was giving Yolanda money and gifts, and helping her settle past debts. As far as she was concerned, that made him perfect for her.
“Well, Mama doesn’t have to worry because I’m not hooking up with Keith and I am taking care of the situation with Isaac!” Stephanie said. “Nothing is going to happen between me and Keith. We’re only going on a trip to South Carolina together. It’s not like we’re getting engaged!”
Lauren held up her hand. “Steph, you say that now, but trust me—when you’re really attracted to a man, all bets are off. I kept telling myself I wasn’t going to fall for Cris either, and look at what happened,” she said, pointing down to her stomach. “Now we are married and we have a baby on the way!”
“That’s different! You fell in love with Cris. I’m just attracted to this guy! Honey, I know how to control myself.” Stephanie eyed one of her night-table drawers. “And if all else fails I have . . . you know . . . toys that can take care of that. I’ll take one with me if you’re really that worried.”
Lauren narrowed her eyes. “So you aren’t going to sleep with him?”
“No, I am not going to sleep with him!”
“Are you sure about that?” a voice in Stephanie’s head asked, but she ignored it.
So what if Keith sent her pulse racing. Just because she was attracted to the man, didn’t mean she had to sleep with him.
“My relationship with Keith Hendricks is and will remain strictly professional. Don’t worry.”
Lauren still eyed her warily. “OK, Steph, but just understand that I keep talking to you about this because I don’t want you to get hurt. You just went through a very traumatic experience with Isaac. I don’t want you to fall for another guy too quickly. I mean, if you really, really like the guy then—”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Laurie,” Stephanie shouted, “for the umpteenth time, you have nothing to worry about! I’m not falling for anyone. Stephanie Gibbons doesn’t do love, honey!”
“All right, ladies, stop arguing,” Dawn intervened as she strolled toward Stephanie’s closet and pushed a line of outfits aside. “Steph said she’s going to keep her legs closed and stay out of trouble, Laurie. You’re just going to have to take her word for it. Now let’s switch to another more important topic.” Dawn eyed one of Stephanie’s cocktail dresses. “Specifically . . . what the hell am I going to wear tonight?”
“Wear to what?” Lauren asked.
Dawn removed the dress from its hanger and held it in front of her. “I have to go to a party in Brooklyn. My boss wants me to win over some artist who’s supposed to be at the party. He wants him to show his work at our gallery.”
“Is this the same boss that’s been trying to get into your pants for the past year?” Stephanie asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Pretty much.”
“And what’s the reason again that you won’t have sex with him?” Stephanie paused and curled her lip in disgust. “Is he really gross?”
“Well, he’s not my cup of tea, quite frankly, but it’s not just that. He’s my boss! You know what Mama always says, ‘Don’t eat where you sleep.’ ”
“I think that’s, ‘Don’t poop where you eat,’ ” Lauren corrected.
“Either way, what he’s asking me to do this time is actually work related and doesn’t involve me getting naked, so I figured I should try to accommodate him.”
“And you have to go all the way to New York to do it? Tonight?” Lauren asked.
“Looks like it. I’m taking the Acela to Penn Station at six-thirty.” Dawn walked out of the closet and turned toward her sisters. “So what do you think?” She cocked her hip and gazed at Stephanie and Lauren expectantly. “Is this appropriate for a studio full of New York hipsters? I wanna look a little sexy . . . stand out a bit from the rest of the crowd without looking completely desperate, but I couldn’t find anything in my closet that fit the bill. Will you let me borrow it, Steph? I promise I’ll get it dry-cleaned when I’m done.”
Stephanie nodded eagerly. “Sure, you can borrow a dress, but not that boring ol’ thing! The New York art scene deserves a dress that’s a lot more . . . adventurous.”
Dawn wrinkled her nose and lowered the cocktail dress she was holding. “What do you mean by ‘adventurous’? I’m not sure if I like the sound of that.”
Lauren giggled. “Leave it up to Steph and she’ll have you walking around New York with Band-Aids on your nipples and a G-string up your butt.”
Dawn scowled.
“Whatever!” Stephanie strutted back across her bedroom. “Don’t listen to her! She’s a boring old married lady. What does she know?”
“Old?” Lauren shouted with outrage. “Excuse me! The last time I checked, I was younger than you, honey!”<
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Stephanie ignored Lauren and wrapped her arm around Dawn’s shoulder before guiding her back into her closet. “Don’t worry, girl. I can hook you up! Just leave it up to me. You’re going to be the most sexy and fabulous chick in that room!”
Chapter 13
Dawn climbed out of the yellow taxi cab and slammed the car door closed behind her. She then tugged down the front of her incredibly short cocktail dress, cursing Stephanie under her breath as she did it. She never should have let her sister talk her into wearing this getup. The silver metallic dress was made out of some chainmail-like fabric that swayed and shimmered when she walked. She felt like a sparkling disco ball. It hit her just above mid-thigh, had a low back, and showed a great deal of boobage in the front. She couldn’t bend down or lean forward without displaying all her goodies to the world.
Dawn had asked not to blend in, but she certainly hadn’t expected to stand out this much. She’d be lucky if she didn’t get stopped by the NYPD for streetwalking when she tried to flag down a taxi later that night on her way back to her hotel.
She opened the clasp on her purse and pulled out the sheet of paper on which she had scribbled the address of Razor’s studio. Thankfully, it was only half a block away. Dawn began to walk in that direction, pulling her leather jacket tighter around her to ward off the evening chill as she trudged along. She heard music as she drew closer to the building—a renovated warehouse. A guitar riff sailed toward her, along with the heavy beat of a snare drum. A few seconds later, she spotted a crowd standing on concrete steps, gathered around an open doorway. The boisterous group snapped Polaroid pictures of each other. Dawn climbed the stairs.
“Excuse me,” she said, making her way through the throng. “Just heading inside, guys. Cutting through.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake!” one of the young women exclaimed with a groan, making Dawn pause. “Not another one of you!”
Dawn stared at her, confused. “Pardon me.”
“Pardon me?” the young woman repeated back mockingly, making Dawn frown.
The young Brooklynite eyed Dawn from behind her thick glasses. Her glare lingered on Dawn’s silver minidress, making Dawn self-consciously tug down the hem again. In contrast, the young woman was in full hipster gear, in a bleach-stained black tank top, plaid skirt, and skinny jeans.