Makeovers Can Be Murder (3 page)

″I can′t do this.″ I shook my head violently. ″I can
not
go on camera with this body. I′ll quit my job first. That′s what I′ll do—I′m gonna quit.″

A young-sounding voice trilled through the latticed door, ″How are we
doing
in there?″

″We′re doing peachy as frickin′ hell in here, thanks,″ I snapped.

A teenaged salesgirl peered past Evelyn, who was still standing in the doorway. Her eyes widened as they registered the imprinted row of dark pink hook marks on my newly unbound flesh.

″Oh, I′m so sorry—I didn′t know you just had stomach surgery,″ the girl whispered, and quickly retreated.

As I scowled and squirmed my way out of the bandeau top, Evelyn placed her fists on her hips. ″You′re not even going to
think
about quitting your job,″ she said. ″And may I point out the obvious? Jonathan loves every inch of your body. I can tell by the way he looks at you.″

″Well, get this—he′s never seen me naked with the lights on.″

Evelyn stared at me. ″Are you serious?″

Since her divorce, Evelyn had memorized every episode of
Sex and the City
. She must have assumed that was the way
all
singletons had sex.

″It′s not that unusual.″ I tried to keep a defensive note from creeping into my tone. ″I always set a romantic mood by putting on an outfit I buy online from Sexy Divas. Then, when things heat up, I turn off the lights. He thinks I do that because I was raised Irish Catholic. Oh God.″ I grabbed hold of both sides of my hair as a new thought whapped into my brain.

″What?
What?
″

″Jonathan′s squad mates are going to see this series,″ I said. ″Every cop in town is going to see more of me naked than
he
has. Oh, shit.″

I leaned my back against the mirror, then slid slowly down into a sitting position on the floor, legs splayed out in front of me. The sudden compression squeezed out my stomach below the belly button like a water balloon.

″I′ll be humiliated,″ I moaned. ″
He′ll
be humiliated. He′ll break up with me.″

″No, he won′t—stop it. Just share your feelings with him when he gets back from the UK.″ Evelyn was into sharing feelings in a major way. She touted it as a cure-all that could bring about world peace.

When I didn′t respond, she added, ″When′s Jonathan due back?″

″Next week, I think.″

″You
think
?″

″Well, he didn′t exactly tell me.″

″Oh?″ Evelyn glanced away. ″Huh.″

″What huh?″

When she didn′t answer, I glared at her until finally she shrugged. ″Well, whenever a guy doesn′t
exactly
tell me what′s going on, I kick his planet′s butt right out of my solar system,″ she said.

″Well, give him a break, Judy Jetson. His mother had pneumonia, for Pete′s sake.″

″Sorry about that, but it doesn′t make any difference, ″ she replied with a sniff. ″Guys are like dogs—you have to teach ′em how to heel.″

″Maybe with some men you do, but not with Jonathan.″

I didn′t want to tell Evelyn that there′d been some tension between Jonathan and me just before he′d left for the airport. It had been over something completely stupid, something that was sure to blow away as soon as we talked again, but still. Right then I was a little bit worried.

Evelyn snapped her wrist like someone jerking back on a leash. ″All I know is, it never hurts to give ′em a little yank every now and then,″ she said. ″Especially with a guy as hot as he is.″

I thumped my head against the mirror and squeezed my eyes shut. ″You′re right—he
is
hot,″ I said. ″So why would he want to see me naked?
I
don′t even want to see me naked. Clearly my love life is over.″

″No, it isn′t,″ Evelyn countered. ″You just have to have some faith in yourself—and in him.″

When I refused to open my eyes, she added nervously, ″I′ll go find some tanning cream. It does miracles for minimizing.″ She bolted from the dressing room.

Make him heel.
I′d never dream of playing manipulative games like that with Jonathan. But here was a harsh countertruth: Only women who have great bodies
could
play those games. I wasn′t even qualified to step onto the field.

I′d observed plenty, though. For example, I′d noticed that whenever Jonathan and I were out together, the women who entered his radius warmed to his British accent and blue-green eyes, which ignited whenever a smile cracked through his homicide cop′s reserve.

Jonathan had never given me any cause to suspect that he paid attention to come-hither signals from other women. But then why had he stopped calling me daily from the UK? Something bad was obviously going on. Maybe his mom had gotten worse.

Or maybe the problem was with me. Jonathan had looked baffled—and a little pissed—right before he left for the UK, when I′d refused for the umpteenth time to let him join me in my morning shower. As always I′d been too embarrassed to explain that it wasn′t because I didn′t want him with me; I′d simply wanted to spare him the vision of my soft surplusage. He hadn′t spoken to me again before leaving for the airport. Not even to say good-bye.

″Smart move, Bloberella,″ I said. A hot, slow-moving tear slid down my nose and splashed onto my upper lip. I swiped it away with the back of my hand.

It wasn′t only Jonathan′s sudden bout of incommunicado that was bothering me. My reflection in the mirror forced me to admit that I was a failure on several fronts. Two years earlier, I′d made the move south to Durham from my original hometown of Boston with two goals in mind—to lose weight and to get hired as a TV reporter. I′d won the job, but now it seemed like I might be losing my edge. And I was heavier than ever.

My cell alarm beeped from deep inside my purse, interrupting my reverie of gloom and doom; it was 11:40. I′d have to scramble to make it on time for my lunch with Jana. No more time to gnaw at my paw with self-destructive thoughts.

I squeezed myself back into my waist cincher, then got dressed and tracked down Evelyn to say good-bye.

Minutes later I was threading my way through the mall parking lot toward my car. Tiny, dark crows of worry had started to gather at the edges of my thoughts about my relationship with Jonathan. Surely he′d banish all those shadows as soon as we had a chance to actually speak over the phone. Evelyn was probably right—I just had to have a little faith. And patience.

Unfortunately, patience has never been my strong suit. It′s a character flaw that gets me into trouble all the time.

Chapter 3

Deep-six the Face Creams

Take all those mondo-expensive face creams you have in your cabinet, and toss them in the trash. I mean
all
of them (yeah, even that hundred-dollar thimble of sea cream).The beauty product marketeers will never cop to this, but none of those lotions and potions are worth a bucket of spit.

—From
The Little Book of Beauty Secrets
by Mimi Morgan

 

 

An hour later I was huddled deep in the recesses of a corner booth at Becca′s Bistro, still waiting for Jana to show. She′d called to say she was running late because her appointment with the plastic surgeon had run into overtime.

I was hiding my face behind an oversized leather menu, trying to avoid landing on the radar of reporter Lainey Lanston. I′d spotted my newsroom rival on my way into the main dining room. Her perfectly tailored back was turned to me, and she was engaged in a schmoozefest with a city councilman named Floyd McElroy.

Floyd was beloved by local reporters for his habit of leaking city hall gossip like a cracked gin bottle the moment he started his daily drinking ritual. And from the glow of the red moons waxing in his cheeks, I could tell that Floyd was already two fizzy gimlets to the wind.

The sight of them dining together filled me with dread. I wondered what kind of information Lainey was pumping from the councilman. I′d been planning to track down Floyd myself this morning, to discuss a lead I′d developed about the head of the city′s animal control department who′d gotten caught up in a sex scandal. I′d held off calling him in order to shop for the goddamn bikini story and make my lunch with Jana.

Maybe Lainey had already gotten wind of the animal house allegations. Recently it felt as if she was shadowing my news sources—she′d even snatched a couple of major stories out from under me. If I was losing my edge, I might soon find myself replaced by Beatty′s newest newsroom pet. What exactly would I
do
if I got canned? There wasn′t another TV station in town—I′d have to move. What would that mean for my relationship with Jonathan? We′d never had a conversation about where we were going as a couple. Maybe that had been a mistake.

Jana appeared at the entrance to the dining room. ″Hi, Kate!″ she called out in a voice loud enough to soar above the din of the dining room.

She made a clacking trek across the stone floor in a pair of white slides and matching Bermudas. Behind her coppery bangs, her hair was sleeked back into in a low, short ponytail.

I peeked over the top of the menu to give her a smile and half wave, then sank back down to stay out of Lainey′s line of sight—I could just imagine her smug expression if she spotted me having a civilian lunch with a friend while she was working a news source.

″Phew—that was totally depressing,″ Jana said, sliding into the upholstered booth opposite me. ″I just had my ′before′ pictures taken at Dr. Medina′s office for my body lift. Thank God no one else ever sees those shots.″

I stared at my slender friend in disbelief. ″Why are you even thinking about having more plastic surgery, Jana? Those Bermudas are what, a size one? Your calves are like pencils. You look absolutely perfect.″

Her mouth corkscrewed down on one side. ″These shorts don′t show it, but I have tons of loose skin on my upper thighs,″ she said. ″I lost over a hundred pounds on the Fruit Diet, remember? Everything′s hanging now, especially my breasts. Just ask Gavin—I′m sure he′ll be
delighted
to tell you how disgusting I look naked.″

″I′m sure Gavin doesn′t think you′re—″

Jana′s face froze as a busboy brought us two glasses of ice water. When he withdrew, she shook her head firmly. ″Our marriage is over, Kate,″ she said. ″When he′s not at the track, Gavin spends all his time on the computer. I found his password—I have to admit I was looking for it—and discovered a bunch of e-mails he sent to a girlfriend. Her name is Candy.
Candy
, can you believe that? How revolting. And here′s the worst—he sent her naked videos of himself.″

″Oh God.″

″I gather she′s not the first one, either. He told her how totally repulsed he is by the sight of me. He said my body looks like a Michelin tire woman that got the air let out.″ Squeezing her eyes shut, she turned her face toward the wall.

″Oh, Jana.″ Laying aside the menu, I reached across the table for her hand. ″I′m so sorry.″

Jana stared down at my hand on hers. ″I really thought Gavin loved me,″ she whispered. ″Peo ple were too polite to say it to my face, but I know everyone thought he was after my money. The only one brave enough to say it out loud was Shaina. She said she′d seen him with someone else while we were dating. That′s why she wouldn′t come to the wedding. I thought she was just jealous and trying to break us up.″

Jana buried her head in her hands, then looked up at me. ″How could I have been such an idiot? I was completely in thrall to him. Oh my God, Kate, the sex we had at the beginning was
incredible
. Actually it′s
still
pretty good. It was never like that before with anyone else. How can a man fake that?″

″Don′t put the blame on yourself. Love can make us blind.″
Ugh. Why do love-gone-wrong conversations always come off sounding like song titles?
I wondered.

After a short silence, Jana said slowly, ″You know what really bothers me? Gavin′s online ID. I found him listed on a couple of those dating sites—he calls himself Shug, for ′sugar.′ That was my pet name for him when we first met.″

″What a bastard,″ I replied. ″Of course, I′ll retract that statement immediately if the two of you get back together.″

She gave me a wan smile. ″No chance in hell of that happening,″ she said. ″Right now, I just want to strangle him.″

Before I could respond, a tall waitress dressed all in black arrived at the table to take our order. I ordered a grilled chicken salad, Jana the spinach quiche.

When we were alone again, Jana said, ″One more thing, Kate.″

″Shoot.″

″I′m pretty sure Gavin′s been stealing money from me.″

″Stealing?″
Yikes. ″How much?″

″About thirty thousand dollars is missing from one of our bank accounts. When I confronted him about it two days ago, he refused to discuss it. He knows I′m angry about it. Since then he′s gone crazy with our credit cards. He′s run up about fifty thousand dollars in cash advances. I just shut down all the credit cards a couple of hours ago.″

Taking a deep breath, I said, ″Jana, I think you need to consult a lawyer, not just me. Does your family have lawyers you can call?″

″No!″ Jana shrank back from the table. ″I can′t tell anyone in Miami about my situation yet. If I tell my family′s lawyers, it′ll get right back to my brother, Belmont. I′m afraid he′ll do something drastic.″

″Like what?″

″I don′t know. Belmont controls our family business, and he already thinks I′m immature about men. I don′t even know what he could do, frankly. I just want to handle this divorce by myself, at least the initial stages. I′ve already acted enough like a fool.″