The Guy Next Door - By Lori Foster, S Donovan, V Dahl Page 0,50
up pledging my troth to Bernie Madoff Jr.”
Kim’s giggle turned into a sigh. “Fair enough,” she said, “but life isn’t over for you, Gail. Don’t cheat yourself like that. You’re still young. There’s a whole world out there. A whole world of men.”
Gail pretended to be fascinated with her romaine lettuce.
“How long’s it been since you had any fun?” Kim asked.
Gail looked up and answered matter-of-factly. “I went out for a beer with some of the other professors a couple of weeks ago.”
“Uh-huh.”
She groaned, realizing that Kim wasn’t going to let her off easy today. Her friend was well aware that it had been two years since she’d had any kind of sex and six years since she’d had decent, meaningful sex, or at least what she’d told herself at the time was decent and meaningful. A few days afterward, Curtis admitted to his multiple fidelity “slip-ups” and expressed his desire to become her ex-husband. Soon after that, he was arrested for embezzling nearly two million of his investment clients’ dollars.
“Besides,” Gail told Kim. “I’m not sure how much weak-kneed dancing I’d be able to do. If I went to Key West I’d have Holly and Hannah with me, remember?”
Kim shrugged. “You could find a way. All you’ve done for the last five years is teach, work on your dissertation, raise Holly, worry about money and fall into bed exhausted at night, only to do it all over again the next day. You deserve to cut loose a little.”
Gail rolled her eyes. “Fine. Maybe you’re right.”
“Hell yes, I’m right!” Kim smiled, as though it was all settled. “Go have your spring fling in Key West, then. And I’m truly sorry I can’t get away from work to go with you. Do you think you can handle those two girls by yourself?”
“Of course I can,” Gail said. “The three of us will have a blast together.”
JESSE DOMINIC BATISTA cradled the cordless phone under his chin while he made his morning patrol of the cottage grounds. As he listened to his agent’s long-distance lecture on the importance of meeting deadlines at this crucial comeback point in his career, he scanned the small yard that fronted Margaret Street. In his left hand he clutched a plastic trash bag and a paper sack for recycling. He used his Playtex-Living-Glove-encased right hand to snag the empty beer bottles from the grass. As usual, they’d been tossed over his privacy wall during someone’s late-night stroll home from the Duval Street bars. Jesse opened the wrought-iron gate to scan the sidewalk for any trash, cigarette butts or the occasional condom wrapper.
It was official. Spring break had come to Key West.
Jesse straightened, using the latex glove to shield his eyes from the bright morning sun. He repeated his position to his agent. “Tell them I need two more weeks, Beverly,” he said into the phone. “Tell them it’s real simple—if they want a manuscript, they can have it today. If they want a good manuscript, they’ll have to wait two weeks.”
Jesse heard Beverly produce another heartfelt sigh before she updated him on his latest mediocre sales figures and a movie studio’s bid for his screenplay.
“I’ll get back to you in a couple of days about everything. Promise.” Jesse said his goodbyes and hung up, shoving the phone into his pocket.
Since he was already on the sidewalk, he decided to pick up the trash in front of his absentee neighbor’s house, a cute craftsman bungalow rental shaded by two old palmetto trees. Being Saturday morning, he knew the current invading horde would soon be heading out. Then the cleaners would swoop in to do their magic—scrubbing bathrooms, hosing down porches, cleaning the pool and wiping down the inside of the fridge. By late afternoon, a new group would move in, thrilled by the charm and comfort of their temporary island home, excited that their vacation stretched out before them, days of azure skies and eternal ocean followed by nights of booze, music, food and laughter.
Jesse didn’t begrudge them their good time. Most of the renters were polite and responsible. Every once in a while, he’d meet someone truly interesting. And a couple of times, he’d lucked out with a group of beautiful women escaping their minivans and office cubicles for an all-girls week of mischief.
Jesse swallowed hard, thinking of Cammy. She’d seemed so sweet and real. And yet, she was neither. To this day, it still amazed him how months of pain had been the price he paid for