A Bad Boy is Good to Find - By Jennifer Lewis Page 0,33
and not one called me back? My mom is AWOL. My father is under house arrest in their Manhattan brownstone. I couldn’t go there.” She shuddered. Not sure if it was the memory of her last encounter with her father or the image of him in an ankle bracelet. “My old apartment is gone too. Repossessed by the co-op for fees owed, or something. I found out from the doorman who wouldn’t let me in. Like I said, reality stinks.”
“Look on the bright side. It’s a beautiful night, nice and warm, you’ve got this great pizza to eat and a friend to share it with.” His eyes glittered with the last of the sunset he squinted against.
She picked a fleck of dried grass off his collar, trying to ignore the funny feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Yeah, a guy who drives a ratty old used car. What a catch. I liked you better when you were a French aristocrat with a gold Mercedes.”
“Me too.” He smiled ruefully. “But I guess it’s time I grew up.”
“Not so fast. I’m just warming up to this illusion thing. I need to pick up some tricks of the trade.”
“Yeah? Well…” He looked at her, a half smile lifting his lips. “The first rule is to live in the moment. Don’t fret about where you’ve been or where you’re going, just love the summer breeze when it’s on your skin.”
“It does feel nice.” She closed her eyes, blocking out his smile.
“The second rule is to appreciate the people you’re with. Enjoy the good things about them and forget the bad.”
Her eyes snapped open. “So instead of focusing on the fact that you are a deceitful con-artist, I should concentrate on how you’re actually a pretty caring person and give a great massage, that kind of thing?”
“Exactly.” His eyes sparkled. “And don’t forget my well-toned physique.”
“How could I? You put it on display with such casual ease. I bet there are women all around us with binoculars trained over the hedges hoping you’ll skinny-dip again.”
“Only if you’ll come too.”
“Oh, they’d love that. Maybe a journalist will get a picture of my fat white ass for the local paper.”
“What did I say about focusing on the positive?”
“I guess it’s going to take some practice.”
“Kind of like kissing me?” A smile tugged at his lips and a shimmer of unwelcome heat stirred in her belly.
She scrambled to her feet. “I think I’ve had enough practice there, thanks. I’ll wait until I’m getting paid before I do that again.”
Chapter 9
They shared the damp-smelling mattress in the pool house because it was the only one that hadn’t been carted away. Lizzie spent the night with her face to the wall, hating that she slept so much better with Con snoring softly into her neck.
In the morning she gulped down some leftover pizza and took the train into the city to organize more details of her Dream Wedding.
Gia had found a pre-Civil War plantation house with beautifully landscaped grounds in Terrebonne Parish, not far from the apparently miniscule hamlet of Mudbug Flats. At least in the pictures the house was stunning, Greek revival columns supported deep verandas and gnarled live oaks dripped with Spanish moss. Con would love it. Why did that give her a tickle of pleasure? Wasn’t this supposed to be about punishing him?
Luckily there wasn’t too much time to think about Con. It was “accessory day” and by noon her mind boggled with taffeta trains and hand-netted demi-veils, freshwater-pearl-drop earrings, embroidered garters and hand-dyed satin sling-backs with intricate beading. The office bustled with assistants from designers all over the city bearing a train of extravagance.
She wouldn’t have batted an eye at all this stuff back when she was wealthy. Couldn’t have cared less. Now the pretty trinkets mocked her. More beautiful because they were unattainable, except on temporary loan.
She could say a lot of bad things about Maisie, but the girl worked like a galley slave. Lizzie was honestly impressed with how she juggled details and handled multiple phone calls without breaking a sweat. But one thing puzzled her.
“Maisie,” she said, between bites of Cobb salad. “Why are you and Dwight having such a long engagement? Why don’t you just tie the knot?”
“It takes time to plan the perfect wedding.” Maisie sorted through a box of Calvin Klein dinnerware samples. “Dwight knows that a society wedding is an occasion to be taken seriously. It shouldn’t be rushed. You only get married once in a lifetime.”