The Divorce Club (26 page)

"No. I was thinking more along the line of
something to make you seem like you actually have boobs."

Why, someone's a little bitchy today. After
ten years of being friends with Mel, I should be used to snarky
remarks, so I bite my tongue to hold back a response even though
keeping my mouth shut isn't my style. It's all for business, I
remind myself.

Mindy grabs her purse and we head out in
separate cars because, client or not, there's no way I'll be
returning home with her.

Half an hour later, we arrive at a shopping
center and head for the shops, the lingerie boutiques first because
that's where the trashy stuff is, or so Mindy assures me. A sales
assistant greets us as we step in. I keep my head low, barely
acknowledging the young woman, but my eyes scan the floor. To the
right, there's a sex toy area badly concealed by a mannequin
dressed in a fishnet bodysuit. Opposite from it are racks with bras
and knickers in all colors and shapes. Mindy picks up a black lace
bustier to inspect it, then tosses it my way. "Try this on."

"Why? He's not going to see my underwear," I
protest.

"If you want to be a stripper you've got to
play the part." Mindy picks a sheer camisole with peek-a-boos where
there should be padded cups. I've no idea why she thinks this will
boost my cleavage. More likely, it'll make me look deflated.

Glaring, I put back one piece after another.
"I didn't sign up to play stripper." My voice sounds a tad too
loud, which earns me an amused look from the sales assistant
standing a few feet away. To my embarrassment, she pops over and
opens her mouth to speak, but I cut her off. "No, we don't need
help. Thank you."

"Actually, we do." Mindy points at a red
sequined bra that would give Las Vegas' sparkling skylight a run
for its money. "Do you have this in a 34B?"

"Let me have a look in our stockroom." The
assistant smiles and disappears.

I grimace, almost blinded by the shimmering
material. "I'm a 34A."

"Shush. Don't ever say that in front of a
man," Mindy whispers, rolling her eyes. "I obviously know that, but
it's nothing a pair of chicken filets can't solve."

"A pair of what?" Surely, she isn't talking
about poultry.

"These." She holds up a box. Dumbfounded, I
stare at a pair of silicone breast enhancers.

The sales assistant appears again holding the
ugly red bra. "It's the last one in this size," she says. "They're
very popular."

"Gee, there's got to be plenty of strippers
out there." I laugh, waiting for the ladies to join in, but they
just stare. I shake my head. "Sorry."

"Actually, they're quite popular with our
male customers," the assistant says.

"I would've thought men might need a bigger
size." I laugh, unable to contain the hysteria at the prospect of
flashing my undies to some old, leering guy. I hope one day Sam
will be thankful for all I did to pay for the roof over her
head.

Glaring, Mindy pushes me toward the fitting
room and pulls the curtain. I'm left staring at my bruised face in
the oversized mirror. My hair's in disarray, sticking out in all
possible directions. Trying on skimpy underwear is the last thing I
want to do.

"Hurry up," Mindy hisses as though she can
read my mind. She's getting scarier by the minute, so I peel off my
clothes and slip on the little nothing. The cups sit loose around
my breasts; instead of taunt and rosy skin, I see pale, silver
lines—faded signs no stretchmark cream could ever remove.

"Don't forget these." Mindy reaches around
the curtain to pass me the breast enhancers. I open the box and
squeeze them inside the bra. Actually, it isn't really squeezing,
more like dropping them in there like dead fish into a pond in the
hope they might fill all the extra space. My breasts seem lifted,
peering out of the material in a way I haven't seen in years. Come
to think of it, they've never been this plump.

"Are you finished? Let me see," Mindy
says.

"It's so tight. I can't breathe." I'm not
even bluffing.

"Don't worry, Sarah. I know CPR. Now suck it
up."

In a bold moment of confidence induced by
fake breasts, I pull the curtain aside, grinning, and take a step
out. "What do you think?"

"It's—" She tilts her head and nods a few
times. My gaze wanders away from her to the guy standing behind a
rack with chocolate body paint and massage oils and I feel my smile
freeze, all color draining from my face. There's Jamie, staring
straight back at me.

I'm mortified and don't want to leave this
fitting room ever again. Outside, Mindy and Jamie are still
talking, but my heart's drumming in my ears, making understanding a
word impossible. From all the gazillion shopping centers in London,
how could he possibly have chosen this one, on this particular day,
at this time? What's he even doing in a lingerie shop anyway? I
thought he was getting a divorce.

Taking a deep breath, I slip back into my
clothes and peer out the curtain whispering, "Is he gone?"

"Who?" Mindy asks, wide-eyed. "Oh, Jamie.
Yes, he is. He asked the saleslady if that sexy angel was included
with the bra."

I gasp. "No way."

"I'm kidding. Chill out, Sarah."

I breathe out, relieved, and join the outside
world even though I swear everyone within a five-mile radius is
staring at me. I'm supposed to be Jamie's confidante and rock. How
could he ever take me seriously again after seeing my
underwear?

Mindy rips the bra out of my hands and puts
it on top of a heap on the counter. "We're taking this."

"All of it? Somebody's a very lucky guy," the
sales assistant says. Without waiting for an answer, she starts
ringing the till, her hands move expertly over the tags as though
she's in some sort of competition. She's probably just hurrying up
in case Mindy changes her mind.

I don't even pretend to take out my credit
card because I could never afford all this stuff. Not when it costs
almost as much as two weeks worth of grocery shopping. Knowing this
doesn't make me feel less bad when Mindy hands me the shopping bag
outside.

"Thanks," I mutter.

"Just do your job." She beams at me when I
realize she's actually looking over my shoulder. I turn slowly,
dread creeping up on me. He's there, I know it. Mindy grabs my arm
and pulls me through the crowd of mid-day shoppers to a small café
where Jamie's standing near a table.

"Hey." His eyes sparkle, the corners of his
lips twitch. The guy's laughing at me. I clench my hands, digging
my nails into the flesh until it helps numb the anger inside
me.

"Thanks for finding a table," Mindy says.

I turn sharply. "It was your idea?"

She shrugs and drops onto a chair. "A girl's
got to eat."

Jamie holds the chair next to his, but I walk
past and choose the farthest. If he decides to talk to me I can
pretend not to hear him.

"Nice rack," he whispers.

"Did you just say 'rack'?" Mindy laughs.

He winks at me. "I said 'bag'."

I sit and grab the menu, avoiding his gaze.
There's no need to raise his hopes and then shatter them if we ever
get intimate—not that I plan to after the stunt he pulled with that
lawyer. "If you're talking about my breasts, they weren't
real."

"You think I'm referring to the fitting room?
I swear I didn't look." He sounds so innocent that I peer up at
him, almost believing his bluff until I see a sparkle in his eyes.
His grin widens. "Actually, I was talking about the bag. I hope you
won't show it to Sam."

What's with the bag? I lift it and gasp.
There's the picture of a woman dressed in skimpy lingerie with a
naked guy standing behind her, his private parts covered by her
hand. I've seen soft porn movies that were less explicit.

"You're such a cool guy, Jamie. Every other
man I know would've hit on her in a heartbeat," Mindy says. "I had
my doubts about you when we first met, but now I realize all that
emotional baggage from the divorce has turned you into less of a
jerk."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Jamie says,
still staring at me.

The way he's sitting there, all composed and
sure of himself, pisses me off. I'm not like him. If I can't have
my confrontation now, I'll explode before the barista brings our
coffee. "What were you doing in a lingerie shop?"

"I could ask you the exact same thing. Are
you planning something special for some guy I don't know about?"
Jamie asks.

"It's not what you think," I say. "It's for
Mindy."

His gaze darts from me to Mindy, then back to
me. "Mindy? Is that why you've been so cold to me? Are you
two—"

Mindy laughs. "Sorry, Jamie, but I don't
swing that way."

I glare. "Neither do I, even though I wish I
did. It'd make my life so much easier. Let's get back to the
question at hand, shall we?"

He doesn't even blink as though he saw the
question coming. "I had to get something for a friend's bachelor
party."

"Are you sure the chocolate body butter
wasn't for you?" I cock a brow. I've no idea why I'm so
confrontational. After the weekend in France, Jamie and I are no
further than when we met.

"Unfortunately, no, but I'm more than willing
to try."

Was that an invitation? My cheeks burn and my
heart skips a beat. I avert my gaze from his twinkling eyes, unsure
what to reply. Luckily, a waitress arrives to take our orders, then
leaves again.

"I'm sorry about the accident," Jamie
says.

"How was it your fault?" Mindy asks.

"It wasn't." I smirk. "Some idiot crashed
into us."

"Wait a second." I can almost see the light
bulb go on over Mindy's head. "I thought you had that accident on
your way back from France."

Jamie nods. The waitress arrives with our
coffees, then heads back to get our sandwiches. We keep quiet until
she's placed the plates in front of us. She's barely taken one step
when Mindy leans forward whispering, "You spent the weekend
together?"

"No, we didn't," I say.

Mindy goes on as though she didn't hear me,
"How long have you been shacking up with Dr. Divorce Lady?"

"I haven't," Jamie says.

Peering at me, Mindy shakes her head. "No
wonder you didn't want to hook up with my boss's hubby."

"Who?" Jamie peers at me, any trace of
amusement gone.

"It's a work thing." Mindy waves her hand.
"He'll totally want to hump her once she flashes that hot
stuff."

"The lingerie," I explain.

Jamie inches closer over the table and
whispers, "Look, if you need money I—" He trails off.

I've had enough of him offering me cash. It's
bad enough I'm buying trashy underwear to please my client; I'm not
going to let him think I'm being paid for some shady services. Come
to think of it, I actually am paid for pulling a guy. I groan
inwardly. Ever since opening this club, my moral compass is
spinning in the wrong direction.

Mindy slaps his arm. "I'm taking back the
compliment I gave you earlier. You
are
a jerk. Boy, I'm glad
I didn't ask you out. Sarah might do this for a living, but that
doesn't give you the right to make an offer."

"She does this for a
living
?" Jamie
asks. "I had no idea."

I wish Mindy could just keep quiet because
she's making things worse. It's obvious from the way Jamie stares
at me dating a prostitute doesn't feature on his bucket list.
Either that, or he's crossed it off already.

I try to speak when Mindy cuts me off. "She's
not a hooker. She catches cheaters. Didn't you read the Divorce
Club manual? Sarah will do stake outs and take photos of the
cheating bastards, so us women have ammo to use in court if we so
choose."

Did Mel really include all those things in
the brochure? I make a mental note to design new pamphlets as soon
as possible.

"You're helping Mindy?" Jamie asks.

"Yes." I nod. "That's all this is about, I
swear."

"Hey, why don't you join us?" I gape at
Mindy, but she just shrugs. "What? He might be of help."

I roll my eyes. "How? By playing pimp?"

"Someone will have to take the pictures from
a distance." Mindy glances at Jamie. "Can you operate a Canon 50mm
f1.8 SLR Camera with a zoom lens?"

"A what?" I ask, brows raised.

She ignores me and continues, "And once you
get to the room—"

I hold up a hand. "Wait a second, I'm not
going home with the guy."

"This is worse than the one time I was forced
to listen to the sex details between Anna Nicole Smith and her
ninety-year-old toy boy. Do you need some time alone to discuss
this?" Jamie asks.

"No!" Mindy and I shout in unison.

"Mindy." I take a deep breath to steady
myself for what I'm about to say. "I agreed to entice your boss's
husband because—" I pause "—actually, I've no idea why."

"Because it's your job?" Mindy says.

"Right. I'll keep true to my word to get the
job done, but on my own terms which means I'm not taking my clothes
off, nor will I accompany the guy to a room. I have a
thirteen-year-old daughter to think of so, you're not getting any
dirty pictures from me."

"You're not getting a grand for just having a
drink either." Mindy clicks her tongue, annoyed. I bet she'd love
to play her manipulation games on me now, but with Jamie around she
keeps quiet.

"You're doing this for a thousand bucks?"
Jamie asks.

Mindy huffs. "Need I remind you it's what I
signed up for? The money's a bonus on top of my monthly fee."

A smile crosses Jamie's lips as we winks at
me. "You know, I think I'll come along because this might actually
be fun. Are you going to wear that red number?"

"I thought you weren't looking."

"I wasn't. Directly." The corners of his
mouth twitch. He's lying. "The stuff was so blinding it kind of
took over my visual senses."