I
throw my head back and laugh at the wicked idea Lishelle has just shared with me. “Lishelle, that’s
perfect.
”
“You don’t think it’s a little…unorthodox?”
“And stiffing you for nearly a million-dollar loan
is
orthodox? I say hit Glenn where it hurts. And the harder the better.”
Lishelle and I are at my place, this time sipping apple martinis and watching season one of
Sex and the City.
It’s just me and her, because Annelise is apparently in Costa Rica. I came home yesterday to find a note from her saying she was catching a red-eye there with her sister. Which means she’s missing my thirtieth-birthday celebration and the new recipe for Cosmos I decided to try.
I have to say, I’m really getting good at mixing drinks. I guess that’s what you do when your love life falls apart—find another passion.
My passion, right now, is getting revenge. One month ago, I didn’t think I’d be capable of doing anything to destroy Adam’s life, let alone anyone else’s. But I’m a different person now. My pure and endless love for him has been tainted. It’s a different beast now, one I can’t control.
Adam has stolen a part of me. A part I won’t get back by just walking away and hopefully finding love again.
Fuck love. I don’t want love. I want revenge.
“You think it will work?” Lishelle asks.
“Glenn will fall for that as easily as he falls for pussy.”
“That’s what I think. But how do we do it?”
“How do you get Glenn to dirty his hands with charity money? Oh, Lishelle. That’s so fucking perfect, really. And maybe easier than you think.”
“How so?”
“You don’t need to get someone to meet Glenn and dangle a carrot in front of his face. We can take care of the dirty details with a little creative bookkeeping.”
Lishelle gasps as her eyes light up with excitement. “Oh, you might be right. Make it
look
like he took charity money.”
“Exactly. When Annelise comes back from Costa Rica, hopefully she’ll have the charity’s books. Maybe you could say the line of credit was a donation for the charity? That’d get
lots
of attention.”
Lishelle slowly shakes her head. “Everyone will wonder why a newscaster took out that kind of loan to give to a charitable cause. Yeah, I inherited some money when my father died, but not enough that I’d be that generous.”
I sip my apple martini. Damn, it’s good. This might be my new drink of choice.
“Okay, so we don’t even mention the money he took from you. We stick to saying that Glenn’s taken charity money. Whether or not Annie finds the books, that’s the story we can leak.”
“Without proof?” I ask. “What if my station manager wants proper documentation?”
“You’re right,” I say after a moment. “That could be a little suspect. Can you get his signature on some papers?”
“He’s hiding from me, remember.”
My head spins a little. I’ve had too much to drink. I’m not even sure what I’m saying anymore.
“I don’t think we need his signature, and I don’t even think we need the books. Glenn had his picture taken at that fund-raiser, remember?”
Lishelle eyes me skeptically. “Yeah.”
“Bear with me. This will all make sense in a second.” I drink the last of my martini, and have to pause a moment to collect my wits. “Photo op. Okay. We get the pictures from the event, leak those to the media, point out that Adam was my man, Charles is Annie’s husband, and Glenn was your fiancé. Not only did they screw us over, they screwed over the charity. They were all in cahoots. Get it?”
“Maybe,” Lishelle says, but doesn’t sound convinced.
“In reality, it’s not
if
you’re guilty—it’s if you
look
guilty. I say we fix the books, roll with the story and give Glenn the chance to come clean by returning his share before he’s brought up on charges. This isn’t the time to worry about being ethical. Glenn sure as hell didn’t give ethics a second thought.”
“You’re right about that.”
“The moment the scandal breaks, just mention Glenn’s name. Then call him up privately with the chance to save his ass by returning your money. If not, tell him he’ll face jail time. Two can play his bullshit game. But you’ll be better at it.”
Lishelle laughs and stomps her feet, she’s so excited with the idea. “I
love
that. Blackmail his ass. That’s fucking amazing. Remind me never to cross you.”
My laughter dies as I get wistful. “Girl, I love you with all my heart and soul. There’s no way in hell I’d ever do anything to hurt you. Just as I know you’d never do anything to hurt me.”
“You can say that again.”
“I just don’t get men. You give them the best of you. Give them your very essence, and they abuse that. Screw you over like they didn’t care one bit how much you loved them. Honestly, I don’t get it.”
“Fuck them. I for one am through looking for love. I’m successful. I have a life. I don’t need a man.”
“Don’t need one, but it’d be nice to have one.”
Lishelle nods. “That’s true. But what if we never have the kind of love we want—deserve? Are we supposed to settle? I’d rather grow old and gray sipping Cosmos with my girlfriends than settle for some lame-ass man who’s going to put me through the ringer again. Aren’t we having a great time here, me and you, sipping these fabulous apple martinis for your birthday?”
“And plotting revenge.”
“And plotting revenge. We’re having a great time.”
“We are…but to never be with a man again? What about sex? Let’s face it, a vibrator will only go so far.”
“Women can get sex anywhere, anytime they want it.”
“Meaningful sex?”
“Did you really have meaningful sex with Adam? Did I have it with Glenn? They lied to us. Nothing was real about what we shared with them.”
That’s a hard pill to swallow, but I know she’s right.
“And I know women want kids, but single moms exist, and they survive, and they probably have a hell of a lot less headache because they don’t have men in their lives.”
“That’s a scary thought. But God, I think you might be right.”
Lishelle downs the last of her apple martini and reaches for the pitcher to pour another one. Her eyes are a little red and her speech is slurred. She’s clearly tipsy. She always has these philosophical conversations when she’s tipsy.
“Wanna watch
How Stella Got Her Groove Back?
” she asks.
“After this whole anti-men talk?”
A mischievous smile plays on her lips. “What can I say? If Taye Diggs were to walk through that door right now, you’d have to fight me for that pretty ass of his.”
“So you still do believe in love,” I say.
“Hell yeah, I believe in love. Glenn may have stolen my heart and my money, but I’m not gonna let him steal that from me, as well.”
“I couldn’t have said it better myself.” I force my butt off the sofa and to the pitcher of apple martini. I refill my glass, then clink it against Lishelle’s. “Here’s to imagining that both of us—and Annelise, too—find a man as hot and sweet as Taye Diggs in this movie.”
“Screw that.” Lishelle clinks her glass against mine. “Here’s to getting your birthday wish. Revenge. Sweet revenge.”
I smile. “I’ll definitely drink to that.”
M
y life feels like a whirlwind of action right now, and I suppose it is. Last night, only hours after finding the Costa Rica brochure in Charles’s belongings, Samera and I took a red-eye flight directly from Atlanta to the San José airport. God bless her, she charged the outrageous last-minute fee to her credit card and said I don’t have to pay her back. She said she was looking for adventure. I will, of course, pay her back. As soon as I get my share of the house in our divorce settlement.
Provided all the proceeds don’t have to go toward repaying the money Charles stole from the Wishes Come True Foundation.
The early-morning sun has fully risen now. I glance at my watch. Two minutes after eight. Our plane landed at quarter to six, an ungodly hour. I should be sleeping but I’m not. I guess adrenaline and caffeine are keeping me going.
Samera and I are in the back seat of a taxi. We’ve been driving through winding, mountainous roads that will take us from the center of the country to the Pacific shore. We have a room booked at the Marriott resort in Los Sueños, which we learned is right beside the real-estate property featured in the brochure I found.
Beside me in the back seat, Samera’s eyes are closed and she’s snoring lightly. I’ve been too wired to sleep, though I did snooze a bit on the plane.
It’s amazing what five and a half hours on a plane can do for a relationship, because mine and Samera’s has improved dramatically. I can’t believe how much we laughed! I can’t believe how much
I
laughed at her scandalous stripper stories! Before, we used to spend so much time disagreeing over each other’s lifestyles that we didn’t spend much time being friends. But all of that is so unimportant in the grand scheme of life. If stripping makes Samera happy, so be it. I just don’t want her hurt.
Just as she doesn’t want me hurt.
Which is why she’s here with me on this trip. And I love her for that.
I gaze out at the landscape. Lush is the only way to describe it. The mountainside is a sea of green leafy trees. It’s stunningly beautiful. And terrifying. The sudden need to swerve on this narrow road could send us careening down the mountainous slope. A slope that, from where I sit, is very steep.
And lethal.
Don’t think about that. Think about your mission. Think about finding the charity’s books, exposing Charles and getting on with your life.
God, I’m so tired.
Despite all the excitement of the day, my eyes flutter shut, and sleep finally claims me.
“Okay, now
this
is a piece of paradise,” Samera exclaims an hour and a half later when our taxi pulls up in front of a stunning and posh-looking hotel. It’s painted a vibrant orange and has lots of archways. It’s like a grand Mediterranean villa. Already, I wish I were here on vacation and staying a while. With a man who is so hot for me, he can hardly keep his hands off me.
“I’ll check in,” Samera announces. “You get the luggage.” A bellhop heads toward us, smiling widely, and Samera lets out a low whistle. “On the other hand, why don’t you check in, and I’ll stay right here.”
I open my wallet and peel out some bills. “You have to ask the taxi driver how much we owe. You’re the one who speaks some Spanish, remember?”
“Oh. Right.”
“Help with your luggage, ma’am?”
“I’m no ma’am,” Samera replies, smiling coyly at him.
I shove a hundred dollars into her palm. “The driver.”
Samera scurries off to deal with the driver.
To the bellhop I say, “We don’t have much. Just these two small suitcases.”
“I will help you.”
“Thank you.”
“Is this your first time in Costa Rica?”
“Yes.”
“Bienvenido.”
He grins.
“Bienvenido,”
Samera replies as she stands beside me. “That means ‘welcome.’”
“That much I do know.”
We follow the bellhop through the main archway into the hotel. I glimpse the ocean through the archway on the opposite side of the building. It glitters beneath the sunlight. To the right, there’s a massive, elegantly decorated lobby with comfy sofas in different sections. I expect that the bellhop will lead us through this lobby to the front desk, but we stop at a desk between the bank of elevators and the sofas.
“Name on the reservation?” the bellhop asks.
“Peyton, Samera.
Miss.
”
A moment later, the bellhop passes us an envelope, in which there are two keys to our room. Talk about a speedy checkin. Our room is on the third floor, with an ocean view.
“I could move here,” Samera announces as we head to the elevators.
“How do you know that? You’ve hardly seen any of the place.”
“Are you kidding me? Look at the mountains. Smell that ocean air. And the brochures I picked up mention waterfalls and zip lines and all this great outdoor stuff. So much more exhilarating than the boring crap in Atlanta. And there’s surfing. I can just imagine all the hot bodies riding those waves…”
The first thing I think is that Samera has a one-track mind. But then I think, so what? Maybe I need a bit more of her spunk and spontaneity in my life.
“Well, we can come back one day,” I tell her. “After all, I’m pretty sure my husband owns property here. Maybe I’ll get it in the divorce settlement,” I add, smiling sweetly.
The elevator doors open, and we get on. Samera yawns. “I’m definitely ready to zonk out.”
“Me, too. What a long flight.”
“But we’re here now, and soon we’ll get the info you need to nail Charles.”
I look at her and smile softly. “Thank you. For being here with me. It means a lot.”
She squeezes my hand. “I know.”
I wake up to the smell of eggs and bacon.
“Rise and shine, sugar,” Samera sings.
I open my eyes. She’s wearing a white robe from the hotel and her damp hair is hanging around her shoulders.
“Am I dreaming, or is that really breakfast?”
“It’s breakfast. And it’s delicious.”
Though my head feels like I’ve got cotton balls for brains, I force myself to a sitting position. “A plate of turd would be delicious right now, that’s how hungry I am.”
I yawn, stretch, then climb off the bed. In a flash, I’m at the table where the tray of food is.
“I’ve already been downstairs,” Samera tells me while chomping on crispy bacon. “Honestly, this place is incredible. You should see the pool! There are five different sections to it, and they all connect, even though they look separate. You can swim under walkways, there’s a waterfall…”
“You’ve been swimming already?”
She shakes her head. “No, I just did a walk-around while you were sleeping.”
“You got more rest than I did, that’s for sure. How do you sleep so well on a plane?”
She doesn’t answer. She’s eating. I pick up a fork and wolf down some eggs. No taking my time. I’m starving.
“I can’t wait to check out the pool,” I tell Samera. “After I go to the condos. I’m not sure how I’ll find out which one is Charles’s.”
“More good news. Downstairs, just outside the main entrance, there’s a bunch of shops. There’s a neat little coffee shop—apparently, the coffee of choice here is Café Britt.”
“And?” I prompt.
“And, there’s also a real-estate agency beside the coffee shop. It’s specifically for the Los Sueños condo properties. I’m betting that if Charles bought something here, the people in that office will know about it.”
“Sam!” I throw my arms around her.
“It’s a small office, too. There was only one person there when I went in. I can’t imagine more than three people working there, period. So the agents will have to know who Charles is, or can at least look up his purchase.”
“I can’t believe it. We’re so close.”
“We sure are.”
We eat for a while in silence. I swear, these hash browns have got to be the best I’ve ever tasted. I wash them down with some freshly squeezed orange juice.
“Hopefully, we’ll find the file by this afternoon, then we have some time to explore. Head to Playa Jaco,” Samera says, feigning a Spanish accent.
“Where’s that?”
“Just down the road. The concierge said there are lots of great restaurants there, and great shopping. Hot men.”
“The concierge told you there are hot men there?”
“No,” Samera replies slowly. “But I figure there’s got to be. We’re in Costa Rica, baby.”
I playfully roll my eyes. “It’s always about the men with you, isn’t it?”
“Is there anything else?”
“You should ditch the wig,” Samera tells me an hour later as we’re heading to the real-estate agency.
“I like the wig.”
“It’s tacky.”
“I feel better in it.”
“In case, what—you run into Charles? If you do, he’s gonna know it’s you. No one else here knows you.”
I sigh wearily and turn to face her. “Why do you get dressed up as a dominatrix instead of just walking onstage naked? Because you’re playing a role. That’s what I’m doing—playing a role. Okay?”
“Ah. Okay.”
I pause to get up my nerve to go inside the office, but Samera forges ahead, opening the door. She’s already greeting the man inside when I step across the threshold.
“Hello, again,” the man says. He takes Samera’s hand in his and kisses it.
“This is the woman I was talking about,” Samera tells him. “My sister.”
What? You told this man about me?
“Oh, hello.” The man smiles brightly as he offers me his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Crawford.”
“Likewise.”
Samera, what did you do?
“My name is Miguel Santos, and I’ve been expecting you.”
“You…you have?”
“Yes. Your husband called.”
I swallow. “H-he did?”
“Of course, it was when I stepped out of the office for coffee.” Miguel rolls his eyes. “When I returned, there was a message from your husband. He mentioned you would be arriving later this week, and he wanted me to give you a key in case he was off golfing. Or fishing. I have to say, he’s really enjoying the community here.”
“I’ll bet,” I mumble.
“I got the impression, from his message, that you were arriving tomorrow.”
“Ah, right. Um—”
“We decided to come a day early,” Samera interjects. “My sister and her husband are such lovebirds, they can hardly stand to be away from each other.”
“Ah, I see.”
I chuckle awkwardly.
Samera snatches my purse from my hand. I shoot her a look that screams, “What are you doing?”
“Your husband did not tell me how beautiful you are,” Miguel comments.
“Why, thank you.” I blush as Miguel holds my gaze. The flirt. “You’re too kind.”
“Here they are,” Samera coos, showing Miguel my wedding picture. “When she was a blonde,” she adds, chuckling, and I nervously finger my wig. “So in love. And this place is so romantic. I can only imagine what they’ll be doing together later.”
I clear my throat.
Miguel crosses the room to a large desk, and behind his back, Samera flashes me a victorious smile. I give her a two-thumbs up.
Miguel turns. I whip my hands behind my back.
“You are going to love the unit. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms. Whirlpool tub. A Jacuzzi on the balcony. A beautiful view of the ocean. And of course, there’s the marina where you can moor your boat.”
“I’m so excited.” I’m all bubbly and animated, sickeningly so, but I have to sell this. “So you have the key?”
He lifts a key ring off the desk from which dangles a single key. “Right here.”
“Do you know how to get there?” Miguel asks.
“Not really,” I admit, hoping he doesn’t realize I’m not who he thinks I’m supposed to be.
“I would take you there, but I have to stay in the office. Let me give you a map and show you the route.”
“Is it far?”
“It’ll take only a minute to get there if you’re driving. Maybe five if you’re walking.”
“Wonderful.”
“But your husband is not there now. His message said he was off for lunch with a friend.”
“Oh, great.” I clap my hands together. “I’ll get to surprise him! I just love when I get to surprise him.”
“What did I tell you—they’re
so
in love.”
A minute later, I have a key and directions to the condo that Charles purchased.
Easy as pie.
“You didn’t tell me you spoke to Miguel about me!” I say to Samera when we leave the office.
“I wanted to surprise you.”
“You could have at least prepared me.”
“Relax. It all turned out okay. You’ve got the key.”
I inhale sharply. “You’re right. You’re totally right.” I pause. “What’d you do when you went in there? How’d you get the info?”
“Miguel’s a man. I simply worked my charm. By the way, I have a date with him later.”
“What?”
“Don’t look at me like that. He’s totally hot.”
I shake my head. “I thought
we
were going to spend time together once I find the file.”
“We will. We’re all going dancing at a club in Jaco. He’s going to teach me how to salsa. I told him Charles will come, too, but obviously he won’t be there. I couldn’t blow your cover.”
“Great, a third wheel.”
Samera suddenly looks around. “Do you hear that? Is someone calling your name?”
“Charles!” Panic washes over me.
And then I hear it. My name. But it doesn’t sound like Charles’s voice.
Miguel?
I turn. And oh my Lord, my heart stops.
Dominic!
He’s jogging toward me from the direction of the hotel lobby.
“Dominic?” I say lamely. Of course it’s him.
“Hey.” He breathes in and out heavily, slightly winded. “I saw you from the lobby, and was pretty sure that was you.” His eyes sweep over me. “The wig’s a nice touch.”
Feeling a tad self-conscious, I run my fingers through my faux-black strands. Dominic seems slightly amused as he looks at me—or is that lust I see in his eyes? Or maybe it’s me who’s feeling lustful.
I can’t help eyeing him from head to toe. He’s dressed in khaki shorts that reveal his muscular legs, and a white polo shirt. And man, he looks sexy.