we were supposed to be friends, right? “She’s an actress,” Jamie said as he closed the SUV’s back door.
Of course.
“Has she been in anything I might have seen?”
He shook his head. “She’s done cameos in some low-budget movies. She’s also a model.”
“And a waitress?” It was cruel, but I suddenly realized her type.
He grinned sheepishly. “How’d you guess?” Easy. Though he already knew how. Actress/model/waitress types were par for the course in So-Cal. Just most people sort of tried to hide the waitress part.
“So, what does she think of relocating to San Diego?” I couldn’t imagine if she was trying to have a career in Hollywood she would think this a very good move.
Jamie sighed. Deeply. “She realizes it’s necessary for us at this time.”
In other words she was pissed off about it. Poor Jamie. Here he was, sacrificing his moviemaking career to work in local TV news, so his loser waitress fiancée could continue to live in the lifestyle she was accustomed. And did she thank him for his dedication? No. She bitched about moving from LA where she would compete with two thousand other blond bimbos for lousy movie roles in even lousier movies that were destined to tank on opening day.
Okay, maybe I was projecting a bit here, but I bet I wasn’t too far from the truth.
“When she comes down, you’ll have to meet her,” Jamie added as we walked into the hospital. “You’d like her, I think.”
Men were so clueless. Didn’t he know that I could never like her? You could never like the fiancée of a guy you slept with. It just didn’t happen.
“Sure. We’ll do lunch,” I said, trying to sound amiable.
Jamie looked at me funny, but didn’t reply. We took the elevator up to the correct floor and entered the doctor’s office.
The interview went well. The doctor talked about the dangers of lead to a fetus and gave us examples of lipsticks that had tested positive. Evidently it wasn’t an exact science. When the lipstick goo was being stirred at the factory, the lead levels didn’t mix in evenly. So each tube from the same batch could have completely different levels of lead. And while nine times out of ten you were probably pretty safe, she did advise pregnant women not to use lipstick during their pregnancy just in case. And that was all I needed for my story.
It would have been better if we had a victim. I knew the station would have loved to get video of a brain-damaged baby, forced to live out a miserable existence all because his mother vainly applied lipstick every morning. But I could work around it.
I had to get this piece done and on the air so I could start working on that Mexican drug cartel one. Miguel had left a voice mail for me this morning before I got in and I couldn’t wait to call him back and get the scoop.
I just had a feeling that was going to be the story that changed my life.
*
“How about that guy? He’s cute.” Jodi pressed a well-manicured finger up to the computer screen. Back at the station, she and I had holed up in her office and opened the Match.com dating site.
“He’s not a blond, blue-eyed surfer from Czechoslovakia.”
She rolled her eyes. “Tell me again why he has to be that?”
“That’s my type.” I shrugged. I didn’t want to admit my embarrassing lie if I didn’t have to. Plus, Jodi might get suspicious about Jamie. I wasn’t ready for the lecture she’d be sure to give if she heard of my overnight adventure. As much as I loved Jodi, let’s just say she once had a cheating fiancé of her own and wasn’t too keen on encouraging her friends to engage in such activities.
“Since when is your type a blond? You’re always dating brunettes. You hate blonds.”
“Tastes change. Besides, I like Owen Wilson. He’s a blond.”
“Right.” Jodi gave me a weird look and went back to searching. Unfortunately, there were fewer blond-haired Czechs who lived in Southern California and surfed than one might have imagined.
“Click on him.” I pointed to a cute blond guy. Jodi complied and a profile popped up.
Ah-ha! He was perfect.
Blond, blue-eyed surfer. Lived in Czechoslovakia for several years as a child though he was originally from Germany. Under hobbies he listed surfing. I couldn’t believe my luck. My imaginary guy actually existed. I should try this Match.com thing more often.
According to his profile, Ted liked long walks on the beach,