he is, Cora - he's such a joker, and of course, I was on top at that moment, but I'm sure you don't want to hear about that."
"Why on earth would you think I didn't want to hear about you and my ex-husband having sex?" I gritted my teeth at both the conversation and the ruts that riddled the long dirt drive up to the Astley house.
The car bounced on a particularly bad one, causing me to cling to the dashboard, as Diamond, with one hand waving airily, didn't seem to notice the appalling state of the drive. "It's not like it's something you haven't done before, unless Dee never asked you to play Cowgirl and the One-legged Itinerant Rodeo Clown, and given how much he loves that, I'm positive he did. But that's neither here nor there, really, is it?"
"No, it isn't," I said, my lips twitching despite myself. She was silent for a minute before sliding me a questioning look. "You're not angry with me about something, are you, Corazon? Is it Dee? Is it because we didn't ask you to the wedding? Dee thought it was best we didn't have a big ceremony, since your porce had just become final that very day, so we went to Vegas."
"No," I said on a sigh. "It's not the wedding, and it's not anything you've done, including marrying my ex. Not really. Our marriage was over before you came along. It's just . . ." I stopped, not wanting to bare my soul to her. I wanted so much to hate Diamond, to despise her husband-stealing self, her perfect blond hair, her svelte figure, her miraculous rise through the real estate ranks from receptionist to top agent while I still slaved away as a lowly assistant-cum-secretary . . . but unfortunately, I couldn't hate her, couldn't despise her, couldn't even work up so much as a mild dislike. She kept the notoriously roving eye of Dermott, my ex-husband of three years, fixed firmly on herself, charmed everyone she came in contact with, and had a sunny disposition that simply would not be quelled, no matter how much I tried snubbing her.
"Lonely?" she asked with a perception that made me uncomfortable.
"I just miss my sister," I said, but we both knew it was a lame excuse. "Even though Jas lived in Washington, we used to talk almost every day."
"Didn't she marry a Scotsman?"
"Yes." I grimaced as we hit a particularly bad rut, my head smacking on the roof of the car. Diamond didn't need to know just what type of a Scot Jacintha's new husband really was. Or the truth about Jas herself, for that matter.
"That must be very hard on you, having her so far away. You don't have any men friends?"
For some bizarre reason, my mind turned to the dark-haired, green-eyed murderer. I would have to be dead not to have noticed that a bloodsucking fiend he might be, but he was also extremely easy on the eyes. "No. No boyfriend."
"That stinks."
I gave up all pretense of dignity. "It really does. I can't tell you how hard it is to find a man these days. They're all so . . . I don't know, shallow. They're just into themselves, or their jobs, and none of them seem to have any real depth. Is it so much to ask that a man be comfortable with himself? That he be able to look beyond his own needs and desires once in a while? All I ever find are guys with agendas."
"Have you tried one of those online dating places?" Diamond asked as we crept down the long drive, past a wildly unkempt lawn dotted with downed branches from nearby scraggly alder trees. "I have a friend who had great luck with one."
"Tried them. Dated the guys. Dumped them shortly thereafter," I said grimly, staring out the window with an Eeyore sense of satisfaction at my misery.
"I'll have to put my mind to it," Diamond said after another minute of silence. "You're a nice girl, Corazon. You deserve to be happy."
I sighed morosely, not bothering to voice my agreement. I sounded pathetic enough without that.
"I think you should take Dee's advice," she added.
"What advice would that be?" I asked, faintly startled at the idea of taking my ex's advice about anything, let alone my love life.
"That rising-to-the-top business. This job, now," she said, nodding toward the looming house that cut with mottled black fingers into the sunny California sky, "this is a