Death, Taxes, and Peach Sangria (11 page)

“Alcohol isn’t the answer,” I told her.

She opened one bloodshot eye. “It is if the question is ‘how can I get shit faced
and forget about my dumb-ass boyfriend?’”

“Ah,” I said. “You’re right.” She’d always been smarter than me.

I picked up the rumpled wedding gown, held it by the shoulders, and gave it a good
shake to fluff it out. Once the dress had settled back into shape, I slid it onto
the hanger and hung it in my coat closet.

“You might as well throw that dress in the trash,” she said. “I’m never going to wear
it. I’m going to die an old maid and it’s all Daniel’s fault. He stole the best years
of my life.”

He didn’t so much steal them as take what she had willingly offered. Still, no need
to point that out, right? She felt bad enough already.

“As long as you’re in a man-hating mood, wanna do me a favor?”

“Sure.” She pushed herself up to a sitting position. “What do you need me to do?”

“I need you to derail Nick’s date tonight. Make sure things go bad.”

She nodded. “I’d be happy to help. Nobody should fall in love. It’s too painful. Love
is just an illusion, anyway. It’s like a rainbow. There for a moment, then suddenly—”
She splayed her fingers in the air. “Poof! It’s gone.”

Apparently the sangria had made her philosophical as well as shit faced.

I called Christina. I was in luck. She was available, too.

I changed into jeans and a sweatshirt and led Alicia out to my BMW, depositing her
in the backseat, where she promptly lay down again. I drove to Christina’s apartment,
texting her from the lot when I arrived. She’d thrown on a lightweight shapeless sweater
that somehow still managed to show off her perfect body. If she wasn’t such a great
person I’d really love to hate her.

We decided to take Christina’s car, since Nick would be more likely to recognize my
BMW than her Volvo. We transferred the drunken blob that was Alicia to the backseat
of the Volvo and took our seats up front.

I held out my phone and showed Christina the GPS app.

“That’s handy,” she said. “But I’m glad they didn’t have those things back when I
was in high school. My father would have tracked my every move.”

The red dot on the map was in motion, indicating that Nick’s truck had left his mother’s
house and was heading north. We hopped onto the freeway and headed after him.

I looked over at Christina, eyeing her left hand on the steering wheel. “You’re not
wearing the ring today.”

She glanced back at Alicia, who was sound asleep, her face smushed against the leather
seat. No need to worry about upsetting our friend at the moment. “The ring felt, I
don’t know,” Christina said, “like a lot of pressure?”

I nodded. At the moment, none of us seemed to be in synch with the men in our lives.
But if my mom and dad had managed to bounce back from the Candy Cummings/Randall the
chess master incident, there was hope the rest of us would work things out, too, right?

“Take the next exit,” I instructed Christina, my eyes on the GPS map on my phone.
“He’s stopped a couple of miles from here, on Greenville.”

She pulled off the freeway and continued down the surface street. As we neared the
red dot on the map, I pulled the owner’s manual from the glove box and opened it,
holding it up to cover my face. I peeked discreetly over the top.

“There he is.” Christina kept her hand low but gestured to the apartment building
to our right.

I glanced that way to see Nick in the parking lot, opening his passenger door for
a woman with wavy brown hair. She wore jeans over boots, along with a western-cut
woman’s shirt pulled tight across her sizable bust. She was tall, probably five foot
nine or so, a good match for Nick’s six-foot-two-inch frame. She looked strong and
capable, like a woman who’d know how to gut a fish and field dress a deer.

“Damn,” I muttered. “She looks like Nick’s type.” I suppose I shouldn’t have been
surprised by that. After all, the two had prescreened each other and it’s not like
Nick would’ve chosen someone who was clearly
not
his type.

Christina narrowed her eyes as she looked at the two of them. “Don’t worry your pretty
little head, Tara. Ain’t nobody fallin’ for nobody tonight. Not on my watch.”

Did I have great friends or what?

She drove past the apartment complex and pulled into the parking lot of a used-car
dealership next door where we wouldn’t be spotted. We shooed away the three salesmen
stampeding toward us, waited until the GPS indicated Nick had a five-block lead, then
turned to follow him, maintaining a good distance.

Alicia sat up in the backseat, eyed herself in the rearview mirror, and said, “No
wonder Daniel doesn’t want to marry me. I look like crap.”

I knew Alicia. There was no sense arguing with her when she was in this kind of mood.

She picked up her purse from the floorboard and retrieved a comb, running it through
her hair to smooth it into place. She put on a coat of lipstick and patted her nose
with pressed powder.

After a few miles, the GPS indicated Nick had turned into the parking lot of Del Frisco’s.

I shrieked. “He’s taking her to a pricey steak house on their first date?” Their porterhouse
cost over fifty bucks. “He must be trying to impress her.”
Damn!
All he’d bought me today was a cup of coffee.

We made the block, stopping at an ATM so I could withdraw a couple of hundred dollars
to cover Alicia and Christina’s dinner. There went my manicure budget for the next
two months. But the least I could do was pay for their meals since they’d be spying
for me.

We returned to the restaurant. Christina parked around the side, where I’d be out
of sight of Nick’s truck. I handed Christina the stack of twenties and she and Alicia
headed inside, Alicia wobbling slightly on her heels.

I sat in the car with the windows rolled down a few inches, waiting. After a few minutes,
I received a brief text from Christina.

2 tables over.

Good. They’d been seated close to Nick and his date.

She texted me again.
Ordered a bottle of cabernet.

I wasn’t sure if Christina was referring to herself and Alicia or to Nick and his
date. Alicia definitely didn’t need any more to drink.

My phone sat silent and still for an agonizing hour, but it might look suspicious
if Christina was texting me a play-by-play. What was happening inside? Was Nick meeting
the woman of his dreams? Laughing and bonding over red wine and red meat? Or were
my friends successfully interfering with his date?

Finally, I received another text from Christina.
Mission accomplished.

I pulled up the map on my phone. According to the GPS app, Nick and his date had left
the parking lot and were on their way back to the woman’s apartment. No sign of Christina
and Alicia yet. I supposed I couldn’t expect them to pass up dessert, though I’d hoped
to follow Nick back to the woman’s apartment to make sure he didn’t go inside.

I debated sending Christina and Alicia a text and instructing them to bring their
wine bottle in case I needed to lob a Molotov cocktail through the woman’s window.
Of course I didn’t actually know how to make a Molotov cocktail, but I Googled it
while I waited.
Hmm.
It sounded fairly simple. All you needed was a bottle, some flammable liquid, and
a small swatch of fabric. I could siphon gas from Christina’s tank and tuck my panties
into the top of the bottle. I’m nothing if not resourceful. Besides, the pair of underwear
I was wearing had definitely seen better days. It was an old pair from a days-of-the-week
set my mother had bought me for college years ago. Despite the fact that it was currently
Wednesday, my panties read: “FRIDAY.” Yep, I definitely needed to get on that laundry.

Ten minutes later, Christina and Alicia returned to the car, doggie bags in hand.

“So?” I asked as they climbed into the Volvo. “What happened?”

Christina grinned. “Alicia pulled a chair up to their table and turned on the waterworks.
She told Nick that she and Daniel had split up because Daniel wouldn’t make a commitment.
She asked Nick for advice.”

“As if I’d take advice from a man,” Alicia said, waving a hand dismissively. “Those
idiots don’t know what they want. Other than sex, of course.”

“Of course,” Christina said.

“But women want sex, too, don’t we?” I knew I did. I’d been without it for several
days now and was feeling the strain. I guess I hadn’t realized how much I relied on
the act to relieve the tension accumulated on my job. “I mean, we don’t have to pretend
that it’s just for men anymore, right?” The sexual revolution of the 1970s had moved
us beyond that.

“Please,” Alicia said. “Don’t even mention sex. As busy as Daniel’s been, I’m lucky
to get a little something-something once a month.”

“Brett and I have had a bit of a dry spell, too,” I said, though I only had myself
to blame for that. Admittedly, I’d been avoiding intimacy. Given my feelings for Nick,
I couldn’t enjoy sex with Brett like I used to. I felt too guilty afterward. Too bad
I wasn’t a slut who could do the deed without any emotional connection.

“You know what you two need?” Christina slid us a sly grin. “A B.O.B.”

“Who’s Bob?” Alicia asked.

“He’s not a
who,
” Christina said. “He’s
a what.
A Battery-Operated Boyfriend.”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” I said. I’d sooner take up jogging to relieve my tension
than use one of those things. And I hated jogging.

Christina shrugged. “We found one in a drawer on a bust the other day. It was enormous.”
She held up her hands to indicate length, like a fisherman describing the one that
got away. Her hands were at least two feet apart.

Both Alicia and I cringed and shrank back against our seats. “Ouch!”

Christina looked down at her widely splayed hands. “Okay, maybe I was a little off
there. But you get my point.”

I didn’t want to think anymore about the
point
she was trying to make. Time to get this conversation back on track. “Tell me more
about what happened in the restaurant.”

“It was
so-o-o
awkward,” Christina said. “The girl just sat there looking uncomfortable while Alicia
blubbered on Nick’s shoulder.”

Alicia chuckled. “I stayed at their table a full twenty minutes.”

Nick was too nice to tell her to buzz off. He could be sort of sweet on occasion.

I took each of their hands in mine and gave them a squeeze. “Thanks, you two. I owe
you.”

“No you don’t,” Christina said. “That dinner was delicious.”

Alicia agreed. “Besides, all you have at your place is cereal and SpaghettiOs.”

My stomach growled in response and for the first time I realized I hadn’t eaten yet.
I’d been so worried about Nick that my stomach had been in knots. I’d fix a bowl of
Fruity Pebbles at home later.

As we pulled out of the restaurant’s parking lot, I checked the GPS app again. Nick’s
truck was already on its way back to his mother’s house. He hadn’t gone into the woman’s
apartment.

I heaved a huge sigh of relief. Much better than heaving a Molotov cocktail, huh?

chapter eleven

Tricked Out

Alicia and I watched the ten o’clock news. Trish’s report on abusive tax preparers
was fair and informative. Nick made a great impression, letting the public know the
IRS was on their side.

Once the women of Dallas saw Nick on television, it wouldn’t surprise me if a dozen
or so called the office volunteering to be audited. Heck, I’d gladly let Nick get
his hands on my files.

Brett and I spoke briefly after the newscast. I asked how Trish knew about his new
gig for the Grand Prairie Parks and Recreation Department, but he claimed ignorance,
telling me that she’d probably heard it from someone else on their volunteer team.
He said the two of them hadn’t communicated directly in a while, since I’d asked him
to sever ties with her.

I supposed I didn’t have any right to accuse Brett of improper interactions with another
woman given my plans to put him on the back burner and start something up with Nick.
I also supposed I sought the information as much to figure out whether Brett had honored
my request to cease communication with Trish as to catch him doing something wrong.
It would be so much easier for me to make a definitive decision if he’d screw up in
a major way. But Brett being Brett, he played nice and did his best to try to keep
me happy.

So why was I so
un
happy?

*   *   *

At the office Thursday morning I checked my voice mails and completed some paperwork
on a smaller case involving a painting contractor who’d accepted quite a bit of unreported
cash under the table. He’d hired a smart attorney who realized the case was a sure
win for the IRS. They’d offered a plea deal to pay all taxes and interest owed. The
contractor would avoid jail time, but in return he’d pay a steep civil penalty. I
hoped he’d learned his lesson.

You don’t mess with the IRS.

Neener-neener.

At eleven thirty, Nick stepped into my doorway. “Ready for lunch?”

“Yep.” Seemed Nick and I had become the official first-date chaperones. On our walk
to Lu’s office, I figured I might as well seize the opportunity to fish for information
about Nick’s date the preceding night.

“I heard Christina and Alicia ran into you at Del Frisco’s,” I said. “Your date must’ve
been something special if you were willing to drop such a big chunk of change.”

Nick shrugged. “I was in the mood for a good steak.”

Nick had a craving for red meat? That’s all it was? I supposed I shouldn’t have been
surprised. Women were constantly reading too much into men’s actions. Men were actually
fairly straightforward creatures. If they want steak, they eat steak. I felt a surge
of relief.

We arrived at Lu’s office to find her all aflutter. “How’s my hair?” she asked, spraying
her wig with another coat of her imported extra-hold hairspray.