Diva (The Flappers) - By Jillian Larkin Page 0,61

my career in crime is over.” Lorraine took off her hat and plopped it right onto Melvin’s head. “Though I’m not sure you should end yours. You’d look pretty spiffy in a fedora.”

Melvin chuckled and scooted back into the booth. He slid Lorraine’s chocolate milk shake away from her and sipped it. It was the rudest thing Lorraine had ever seen him do, and also the most attractive. Was Melvin finally growing some backbone?

“All right, so tell me what this is all about,” he said with the hat still on. The way it flopped over his forehead, Lorraine couldn’t see his face—it was a good look for him.

“Well,” Lorraine said, “we’re trying to stop Marcus from marrying that gold digger. Clara here—she’s a reporter for the Manhattanite—found out all sorts of dirt about her. The woman’s changed her name about a thousand times, and she’s wanted for robbery and assault. And those are just the things the cops know about! Once Clara digs a little deeper—”

“I’m not going to pursue this any further,” Clara cut in.

She was looking wistfully out the window. The coppers were finally leaving, and Deirdre was back in her normal clothes: a peach crocheted day dress with little black bows down the front where buttons would usually be. It was still hard to believe such a delicate flower of a woman had committed all those crimes.

Which was probably exactly how she’d gotten away with them.

“What?” Lorraine exclaimed. “Why? Now we know it’s her—she confessed!”

“If Marcus wants to marry that Deirdre woman, it’s his business.” Clara reached over to take a French fry from the basket they’d been sharing (“These are more French than that lying harlot,” Lorraine had commented when the waiter brought them) and nibbled it. Lorraine noticed sadness in Clara’s eyes. “I need to stop pretending it’s mine.”

“Applesauce, it’s not,” Lorraine said. The cheerful bell over the door jingled as an elderly couple left. “Don’t be an idiot like me! Haven’t you learned anything from my example?” She looked at Melvin. “Marcus is only with this Deirdre girl because he misses Clara, who lied to him and broke his heart.”

“Thanks for that,” Clara said.

“But I thought you liked Marcus,” Melvin said.

“Oh, that was so three weeks ago,” Lorraine replied, waving him off. “Nope, Clara’s the only girl for Marcus—anyone but the two of them could see that in a second.”

It was only when Lorraine said it that she truly believed it. Clara and Marcus really did belong together. With their runway-ready looks, neither of them had any business being as smart and sensitive as they were. They needed to get back together, get married, and have beautiful blond children. Who would probably also be charming and clever enough to take over the world.

Clara raised her eyebrows at Lorraine and opened her mouth, surely to object, but Lorraine wouldn’t let her.

She met Clara’s eyes. “The only reason that girl’s spell works on him is because he can’t see straight. He got hit so hard by you. Like he was hit by a brick. Yep, that’s it exactly—he was smashed in the head by a brick full of love.” Lorraine let out a tiny cough. “For you. Not me at all. Definitely for you, Clara.”

For a second, Clara looked as though she might start crying. Lorraine dug into her purse, readying a tissue, but then Clara blinked, took a deep breath, and composed herself.

“Do you really think so, Raine—that he, you know … the love brick? For me? He was so cold when I went to see him … not that I didn’t deserve it.”

Clara was asking Lorraine’s opinion as if it actually mattered to her. The way Gloria used to, back before everything had gone so wrong between them.

It felt really nice.

“Probably because you told him you were only there as a friend,” Lorraine said. “He wanted you to tell him that you’re lost without him, that you want a happily-ever-after with him, so that he could sweep you into his arms, and—”

“It’s true,” Melvin chimed in. He took off the hat now, and swept his hair back with his hands. Actually, it was a good head of hair, Lorraine thought. “Men don’t really want to be friends with women.”

Lorraine elbowed him in the ribs. “What’s that supposed to mean? You’re friends with me, right?”

Melvin glanced away sheepishly. “Yeah, but—”

“No buts about it!” Lorraine said. “Clara, you need to snap out of it. We have to stop this devil woman together.”

What she didn’t say out