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by Michael D. Britton


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  Jean changed into one of Jamie’s outfits – a sleeveless peach-colored hoody dress – and made her way out of Six Below to the parking lot and found Jamie’s midnight blue Jaguar XJ220, opened the door and slid into the leather bucket seat.

  Nice ride.

  She was about to start it up when Jamie’s cell, in Jamie’s purse, started ringing.

  She picked it up and looked at the ID – Gavin. She sighed and answered it.

  “Hi.”

  “Hey honey. I just wanted to remind you of our date tonight.”

  “Uh, date?”

  “I knew you’d forget. We can’t miss this – it’s the annual firefighters fundraiser. We have obligations, you know?”

  Jean rolled her eyes. “Fine – I mean, sorry I forgot – I just have a lot on my mind right now. Will you pick me up at my place?”

  “Six thirty.”

  “’Kay, bye.”

  Great. A date with Jamie’s fiancée.

  Jean started up the car, its V6 twin turbo growling behind her shoulders and gently vibrating the seat. The pitch of the motor’s humming briefly made her flashback to the Switch Chamber. She shook her head to clear her mind, put it in gear, and took off with spinning tires.

  San Mateo was a short ride in mid-afternoon traffic in a car that could do ninety in second gear.

  She found the offices of Frehley, Chin, and Dexter, Cosmetic Surgery, and parked in the back.

  She entered the reception area and was greeted by the young Asian girl at the desk. “Hello, Miss Stanton.”

  Jean was surprised that she was known here, and wanted to know what it meant. For now, she’d use the familiarity to her advantage.

  “Hey there, how’s it going Lisa.” Jean had read the name tag.

  “You want to see Dr. Frehley?”

  “Of course. Sorry I don’t have an appointment.”

  Lisa laughed. “Funny. I’ll give him a call – go ahead and go on back.”

  Things were getting stranger by the minute.

  Jean walked through a door into the back offices, and before she could figure out where to go, she found herself facing a man in a white coat, in his mid-forties or younger, with thick blond hair and smooth, tan skin. He looked like a surfer dude playing a doctor in a soap opera.

  “Jamie, what brings you here?”

  “Actually, I had a question for you.”

  “Come into my office,” he said, stepping through a door marked Dr. Frehley.

  At least she had the right guy.

  “Well,” she said, sitting down when he did, “I was wondering if I could see some of your before-and-after pictures.”

  He chuckled. “Planning on getting some work done?” Then he shocked Jean by placing his hand on her bare knee. “You know you don’t need it, honey. You’re perfect just the way you are.”

  Jean faked a smile. “No, silly – I just want to check out your latest work.”

  “Oh – you mean that guy you sent me? The one who wanted no records of his visit kept?”

  “Yeah, that guy. Hey, I appreciate the favor you did, by the way,” she said, playing along.

  “Anything for you, babe. Well, I had Lisa destroy all the records, but I sure wasn’t going to delete the images – I did fantastic work on that guy, and kept the pics for my portfolio.”

  “Ooh, can I see?” asked Jean.

  “Sure.” He swiveled his chair to face his laptop and pulled up a folder full of images. “Check it out,” he said, handing the laptop over to Jean.

  David Talley. Before and after.

  “Nice work,” said Jean.

  “Hey, I gotta go suck fat, Jamie,” said Frehley. “I have someone waiting for me on the table. I’ll see you tonight?”

  Uh, no.

  “Can’t. I’m previously engaged.”

  Frehley barked out a laugh. “Ha! That’s good. Fine, call me tomorrow. Bye.”

  He leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Jean was glad it was only on the cheek.

  “Bye.”

  Frehley left her alone in his office.

  Jean copied the images of Talley to a flash drive, then found her way out of the office and got back in the car. As much as she liked the car, she was starting to gain a distinct dislike for its owner.

 

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