had kept his on his person or in his briefcase 24-7. I doubted Jonathan would be that paranoid. He was a mind doctor, therefore he would assume he could outsmart anyone who entered his domain.
The picture of him fishing on Lavon Lake... no. A hollowed-out book... no. Too clichй. My gaze continued to search, considering and discarding items as I came to them. Then I noticed a small, seemingly innocent blue-and-yellow parakeet. I lifted the item in question and turned it in every direction, wondering why my I'm-so-sophisticated stepdad owned an ugly, plastic figurine.
The answer hit me, and I smiled slowly.
"Of course you'd hide the key in plain sight," I whispered, pressing the bird's beak. A key instantly snapped out. My hands shaking with excitement and nervousness, I quickly unlocked and searched the desk drawers.
My teeth bared when I spotted photos of a plain, conservatively dressed woman in multiple stages of movement. In some, she was holding a cute, dark-headed toddler. My jawbone almost snapped with the force I used to bite down. Did Jonathan have a love child? Of course he did. Why else would he hide the picture? That sugar daddy dickwad!
I found his cell-phone bill, too. There were too many numbers to write down, so I folded the papers and stuffed them in my pocket. Hopefully, he'd just think he lost them.
Smoldering with anger, yet giddy with my triumph, I locked the desk and replaced the key, then strolled into the den. I breathed a sigh of relief when no one took notice of my arrival. Mel and Jonathan were facing off, arguing over the prevalence of divorce. Kera, Jennifer and my mom were seated demurely on the couch, discussing the merits of good skin cleanser.
Watching them proved to be a surreal experience. I'd gone from snooping to finding incriminating photos to happy domesticity in less than seven minutes. I almost wished I was dreaming.
"Time to go," I said, my voice tense.
Everyone's attention snapped to me.
"Are you feeling better, sweetie?" My mom pushed to her feet, her expression concerned. At her sides, her hands twisted the material of her slacks. "Mel said you were sick."
"No, uh, I'm not feeling better. I'm very sick." I coughed for good measure.
"I thought it was your stomach," Jonathan said.
"Throwing up probably scratched her throat," Mel said helpfully.
"Yes, that's right." I rubbed my stomach and gave another cough. "I hate to leave so early, but I need to get home."
A look of relief washed over Mel and Kera's faces, and they raced to my side, wrapping their arms around me and pretending to hold me up. "Let's get you home and put you to bed," Mel said. "You look awful. Just awful."
Gee, thanks. I allowed them to lead me toward the front door.
"Did you find anything?" Kera whispered.
"Phone records."
"I'll ring you tomorrow and see how you're feeling," my mom called after us, a wealth of meaning in her words.
Chapter Ten
Just as a Tiger searches for and uses your weaknesses against you, you must find and use his against him. Exploiting a weakness can make the difference between victory and defeat.
I spent the next day, Friday, on the phone.
Royce called me. Richard did, too.
I told Richard to die and go to everlasting hell. I hung up on Royce without a word. He called me back, and I said, "Nice photo of you with Gwendolyn. Your non-girlfriend. Did you ask her to marry you, too?"
He laughed. Actually laughed. "She's a friend, nothing more. We do the charity circuit together. I'd love for you to be my date from now on. Are you interested?"
He sounded so sincere, but then, Richard had always sounded sincere as well.
I told Royce, "No thanks," and ended the call, not knowing what to think. Should I believe him? And why the hell was I so concerned? We weren't in a relationship-I'd made sure of that.
I avoided my mom's "did you find anything" call. I avoided Jonathan's "how do you feel" call. I did answer Jennifer's "would you like to go on a date" call and explained the kiss I'd planted on her. She took it well.
Through it all, my BlueJay never shut up. It continued to beep and beep and beep.
Finally I drop-kicked the little bastard out the window, taking immense satisfaction when I heard it shatter. Feeling better, I dialed every number on Jonathan's cell-phone bill, giving everyone the same story. "Your number was on my caller ID. Who are you and why did you call this number?"