Fast Track (The Sisterhood: Rules of the Game, Book 3)

by Fern Michaels

  “No,” Annie said.

  “Yes, dear,” Myra said. “Please don’t get into any trouble.”

  “We’ll do our best,” Kathryn said, peering at herself in the long mirror that Alexis had brought down from the upper floor and propped against the dishwasher.

  “Tell me you have a plan at least,” Annie said.

  “Oh, we will, we just don’t know exactly what it is yet. We’re going to work on it on the way into town,” Alexis said breezily.

  “Things always come together somehow when you work on the fly,” Kathryn said just as nonchalantly.

  Myra sent an appealing look in Jack’s direction.

  “We got their back, Myra. I’m going to call Bert as soon as we get out to the highway. You sure that disaster of a truck in the barn works?”

  “Like a charm. Nellie said she put a new engine in it a few months ago. She said it purrs like a kitten.”

  “Then I guess we’re good to go. Showtime, girls!” Kathryn said as she strutted toward the kitchen door, where Myra’s Mercedes was waiting outside by the huge electronic security gates.

  When the door slammed shut, Annie reached up into the cabinet for a bottle of Kentucky Bourbon. She poured generously. “This is no time to be shy, Myra. Bottoms up! I’m thinking we might need this false courage. At least for now.”

  “I think you might be right, Annie,” Myra said, upending her glass. Her eyes watering, she held the glass out for a refill. Annie obliged. Twenty minutes later they both forgot about the glasses and took turns swigging from the bottle.

  “This is fun, isn’t it, Myra?”

  “Oh, it’s fun all right, dear. I love it when I can’t stand up straight, and I see three of everything. It’s just no end of fun when your head spins one way and your stomach goes the other way.”

  “You always were a poop, Myra. You need to get with the party here.”

  “Guess what, Annie. I am leaving this party. Right now.”

  “Go ahead. See if I care,” Annie said, peering into the empty bottle. “Okay, okay, now that you rained on our parade, I guess we should settle down and watch television.”

  “What makes you think we can see the television set…you…you…lush.”

  “Oh, Myra, that was such a low blow. Say you’re sorry.”

  “I’m sorry, Annie.”

  “I know, dear, I know. Let’s just sit on the sofa and hold hands and worry together.”

  Chapter 13

  Rena Gold liked it when women looked at her with envy in their eyes. She liked it even more when men looked at her with hungry eyes.

  The workout routine she worked at religiously kept her surgically enhanced body in good shape. She hated flabby skin, be it on her knees or her elbows. At the first sign of a wrinkle, she sprinted to a plastic surgeon. Now, if there was just something she could do about her aches and pains, she’d be a hundred percent. Her years of dancing in Las Vegas had taken their toll on her back and hips. Her knees weren’t that good, either. On the days when she wore pantsuits, she wore elastic braces on her knees. When she wore short skirts, she suffered and took eight Advil a day.

  What she hated more than anything were the bedroom gymnastics Maxwell insisted on. Slug that he was, he made her do all the work. Secretly, she thought of him as a rutting pig in a barnyard. And to think tonight was what she referred to as her duty night. But not until she was ready. Damn good and ready. In order to be damn good and ready, she had to make a pit stop to fortify herself for what was to come. If she was lucky, she could be out by midnight and home in her own bed with her thousand-thread-count custom sheets, sheets that wouldn’t smell like Maxwell Zenowicz.

  Rena pulled on her elastic knee braces, slipped back into her pantsuit, fluffed her wild mane of hair, then checked to be sure her makeup was perfect. It was. She took one last look in the mirror and was more than satisfied. When her cell phone rang, she pulled it out of her Chanel bag and looked at the name of the caller. She grimaced but didn’t answer. “Screw you, Max,” she mumbled as she shoved the cell into the bottom of the bag. Then she yanked it back out and turned it off.

  Tonight she was going to stop off at a new establishment, one that had opened recently. She hadn’t even mentioned it to Max. She knew he kept tabs on her, but she’d become an expert at outwitting and evading the various tails he’d put on her. Tonight she was going to Eazzy Breezy.

  As she walked along, Rena wished, the way she’d wished many times, that she had a close friend, a confidante here in the Nation’s Capital. But she didn’t. Max had warned her not to get involved with what he called jealous, catty women. It wasn’t that he was worried about her reputation but rather his own. So, she’d done what any red-blooded woman would do. She’d gotten herself several prepaid disposable cell phones that she kept hidden in the Tampax box in her bathroom. Hidden just in case Max sent someone to check out her apartment. He did that from time to time, and she knew each time her space had been invaded because she set little traps for any intruders. Not that anything was ever taken, not even when she left money on her dresser.

  What galled Rena more than anything was that Max thought that because she’d been a showgirl in Vegas, she was stupid. He didn’t give her credit for having any brains at all. Ha! He should only know how bright she really was. Having friends in Vegas who knew the right people had proved beyond beneficial. Her best friend, Esther, had told her she needed insurance in case old Max decided to kick her to the curb at some point. “You need a nest egg, a big nest egg for when that happens.” She had listened, and on occasion she’d administered a doctored-up drink so Max would sleep the sleep of the dead and she could make copies of the contents of his briefcase. She’d also made videos of their sexual escapades. Everything was locked away in the safe in her penthouse, a safe Maxwell knew nothing about. “Stupid, my ass,” she muttered under her breath. Her eyes narrowed in anger when she remembered her lover’s net worth and how he doled out money to her. Well, that was all going to come to an end fairly soon. She had had enough. All those finance seminars she’d been taking on the sly while she was supposed to be working were finally going to pay off.

  Rena looked down at the diamond-studded Rolex watch she’d insisted on before agreeing to a particular evening event. She knew that Max was calling every five minutes, wanting to know where she was and what she was doing. When she finally got around to turning her cell on, there would be at least a dozen calls, each more angry than the previous one.

  She sighed as she approached the Eazzy Breezy. A doorman, no less. She smiled, showing a fortune in exquisite veneers. She’d had to do a lot of whining to get them.

  The inside of the Eazzy Breezy was no surprise. Miami sleaze, just as she’d suspected. Oh, well, she didn’t have to come back if she didn’t want to. She shouldered her way through the crowd of people to the end of the bar, where a young guy with a crew cut and a dark tan offered her his stool. She waited for him to hit on her with the offer to buy her a drink, but it didn’t happen. Instead, he moved off through the crowd. For a full minute she panicked. He wanted young blood. Did she have a new wrinkle? Were her hands a giveaway? Damn. She could see her reflection in the mirror behind all the liquor bottles. She looked damn good. If she looked so damn good, then why wasn’t anyone hitting on her?

  Rena heard a voice to her left say, “It’s a young crowd, don’t you think?”

  Rena looked at the woman sitting next to her, who was every bit as beautiful as she herself was. No one was fawning over her, either. “I think you might be right. I wanted to check it out. My secretary said this was the place to go for a nice meet and greet, and she said the drinks were super. Of course she is all of twenty-two, so that might account for her taste. I think I’m disappointed.”

  Kathryn, using an alias, crossed her long legs and smiled ruefully. “Well, I’m a far cry from twenty-two, that’s for sure. I don’t see one man here that looks to be over thirty. Now why did I know there was going to be a pink umbrella in this drin
k? Delia McDermott,” she said, holding out her hand.

  “Rena Gold.”

  Kathryn looked around the crowded room again and shrugged. “So, what do you do, Rena Gold?” Kathryn tried to look interested as she continued to survey the room for a possible hookup. At least that was the impression she tried to convey while at the same time being polite.

  “I work for the World Bank. How about you?”

  Kathryn allowed herself to be suitably impressed. “Nothing that important or glamorous. I’m a lawyer with one of the big firms in town. I’m hoping to make partner this month. If not, then I’m going to hang out my own shingle. I’m not getting any younger.” She looked around again and pasted on a look of anxiety. “Damn, are there just no available men in this town?”

  “What about all those nice corporate lawyers, not to mention the ones that work for the government?” Rena asked as she followed what she perceived to be Kathryn’s desperate search of the room.

  “Are you kidding! I don’t want to be someone’s mistress. Been there, done that! They never leave their wives. They want you at their beck and call, and after they reel you in, they get really stingy. I’m actually thinking of relocating to New York if this partner thing doesn’t work out. I’m a really good lawyer. The men at the firm hate me. I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I guess women are just naturally more sympathetic to one another. It’s such a damn uphill fight. I get so weary of it all. It’s really hard to meet a man once you hit forty. Don’t you agree?” Kathryn asked breathlessly, as her eyes continued to rake the room.

  “I haven’t hit forty yet, but you’re probably right. I also think both you and I have another strike against us. We’re both beautiful, and I think we intimidate men.”

  Well, damn, aren’t we confident here. Not forty, my left foot. She’ll never see forty-one or forty-two again. “Aren’t you the smart one. I think the two of us are going to get along just fine. So, do you have a significant other or someone lurking in the wings?” Kathryn asked.

  Rena made a face. “More or less. It’s pretty much run its course. Listen, if you don’t have anything to do, let’s go someplace else. It’s obvious there is nothing here for either one of us.”

  “I have all night. I got my client a big settlement today, so I don’t have to show up till noon tomorrow, at which point I will crow like a peacock. What do you have in mind?”

  “There’s a really nice piano bar in Georgetown I like. They even have decent food. We’ll have to take a cab, is that okay?”

  “Sure. I live on O Street. That’ll work. Tell you what, I’ll pick up the tab here, and you do the taxi.”

  “That’ll work,” Rena said happily. A friend. She’d finally found someone she liked and who was interesting. Screw Max and the horse he rode in on.

  Kathryn tossed down a ten and a five on the bar, and the two women left. Two young things in skimpy attire, their hair frizzed up, immediately took their bar stools. In a nanosecond, a crowd of single-breasted suits with pristine white shirts, ties askew, surrounded them. She looked at her new best friend and thought she saw Rena cringe.

  Outside in the balmy summer night, Kathryn walked toward the curb with Rena, who was already holding up her hand for a taxi. “If we can’t get a taxi, I can always call my limo,” she said.

  Kathryn hoped she looked properly impressed when she said, “You have a limo at your disposal?”

  “Yes, but I try not to abuse the privilege. The people at WB sometimes talk a little too much. Tonight was my exercise night, and I like to walk a bit afterward.” Rena wasn’t about to confess she didn’t want to use the limo because Maxwell could track her whereabouts too easily.

  “Must be nice to have perks like that. What else do you get? Go ahead, make me jealous.” Kathryn laughed again to show she was teasing.

  Rena laughed in return. Delia was just like her friend Esther in Vegas. She forgot all about Maxwell’s dire warnings about making friends and telling her business to strangers. Screw Maxwell. Suddenly she giggled. Maxwell wouldn’t be getting screwed tonight. Sometimes she was just so smart she couldn’t stand herself. A cab stopped and Rena gave the address to the driver as they climbed in.

  “Let’s see, I get to travel a lot. I have an extremely generous expense account. I get to go to all the fashion shows in Paris. I also have a penthouse apartment.”

  “I’m in the wrong business,” Kathryn said, settling herself in the cab. “I make good money and will make even more if I make partner, but the only perk I get is a free gym and day care. Since I don’t have kids, that means zip to me. Oh, and we have gourmet coffee in the kitchen at the firm. You are one lucky lady.”

  Rena’s mouth tightened. “Not really.”

  “Oh, oh, that sounds like man trouble to me,” Kathryn said, laughing.

  Rena leaned back on the seat and closed her eyes for a moment. That’s exactly what Esther would have said. She opened her eyes and stared at Kathryn. “Are you saying there’s no man in your life, even on the fringes?”

  “Yep, that’s what I’m saying. Been burned one too many times. I hate men!” she blurted.

  “I guess one broke your heart,” Rena said.

  “Yes. He promised me the moon and the stars. He also promised me to get a divorce. Of course, that never happened. I think I knew it when I agreed to that first date, but I didn’t listen to my gut. Shame on me,” Kathryn said.

  “We all make mistakes. I’ve made my share. Sometimes I miss Vegas. That’s where I’m from. I really don’t like Washington, and I detest the people here. All they do is lie and cheat and try to pull dirty tricks. Lately, I’ve been thinking the money just isn’t worth it. I don’t have enough saved to cut out yet. I was hoping for a bigger nest egg. Soon, though.”

  Kathryn digested this information but wisely kept quiet. Maybe a few stiff drinks would loosen Rena’s tongue a little more. Like what did “soon” mean?

  “So, who is your man of the hour, or is it a secret? You can tell me, I’m a lawyer and can’t divulge anything you tell me. Unless, of course, it’s a secret.”

  Rena laughed, but the laughter had a bitter sound to it. “It’s supposed to be a secret, but everyone in this damn town knows. At least I think they do. I see how they look at me. You know what, Delia, I look right back at them and don’t flinch. I try to get out of town as much as I can.”

  “What exactly do you do at the World Bank?” Kathryn asked nonchalantly.

  “I’m a liaison there. More accurately, the European Commission in Belgium. It’s a long way from being a showgirl in Vegas. But that was a fun job for the most part but hard on the body. I had a nice life there. Today is one of the days I regret leaving.”

  Kathryn reached over and patted Rena’s arm. “Like you said, we all make mistakes at one time or another.”

  Rena leaned forward when the cab pulled to the curb. Even sitting inside with the windows up, Kathryn could hear music coming from what looked like a storefront establishment.

  “This is it. I think you’ll like it here. I found it by accident one time when I came over here to shop. They have a few specialty stores I really like. It’s quaint in a homey kind of way. They have new piano players every few weeks. You know, classy, not like Vegas with all the noise and glitter. No one bothers you here and it is definitely not a pickup joint if you know what I mean. People are quiet and just come to listen to the music.”

  “Uh-huh,” was all Kathryn could think of to say as Rena paid the cab driver. They got out of the cab and Kathryn followed her new friend into the bar. She was going to have to make an excuse to use the ladies’ room so she could call the girls. Damn, she’d been lucky. First crack off the bat and voilà, here she was with the bait. Wait till Charles and the others heard about this.

  Chapter 14

  Nikki parked Myra’s Mercedes in a vast parking lot at Tyson’s Corners. The women exited the car and moved off to where other vehicles for their use were parked, thanks to Bert Navarro. One by one, th
ey drove off. Their destination: Ethel’s Piano Bar in Georgetown. Jack was to follow in a blue pickup.

  Harry ran over to a rusty-looking Ford Mustang and climbed in. His destination: Dupont Circle and the watering holes in the vicinity. He pulled alongside the blue pickup, and said, “Call me as soon as you know where you want to meet up.”

  “Be careful, Harry. Kathryn said she wasn’t sure it was Ted at the Eazzy Breezy. She only got a glimpse of him out of the corner of her eye. She said he looked her and Rena Gold over real good, but Ted likes to look at women. It doesn’t have to mean anything. I’d be real happy if you’d call for some backup just in case.”

  “Okay, Mom.” Harry put the pedal to the metal and managed to goose the Mustang to a frisky thirty miles an hour. He grimaced when Jack roared past him going at least seventy.

  Forty-five minutes later, Harry parked the decrepit car and walked to the Eazzy Breezy. It took him five minutes to discover Ted wasn’t anywhere to be seen. He left the hangout and headed for High Flyers. He walked in and headed straight for the bar. He ordered a Foster’s and looked around while he waited for his beer. The owner had to be a pilot of some kind. Every available inch of space was covered with a picture of a plane, be it a sleek jet or a crop duster. Mobiles hung from the rafters. Small planes with rotating propellers managed to circulate the air. He was surprised to see people smoking at the bar. He vaguely recalled reading something about cigar bars being exempt from the no-smoking bans.

  Before the bartender handed him the Foster’s he demanded ten dollars. “For what?” Harry asked.