Armed and Fabulous (Lexi Graves Mysteries) (20 page)

"You want to go shoe shopping?"

"I do, but I have to meet Serena at Alessandro's. We're going through her baby shower demands."

"You mean, inspiration?"

"Nuh-uh. Definitely
,
demands."

"I'm going to check out that new club downtown later. Pecs. The one with the topless waiters."

I brightened at that. Rumor ha
d it
all the waiters were part-
time male models. The place
was
crammed opening night
,
so
we didn't get in. Life was full of disappointments. "Okay," I said. "I have a great dress to wear."

"It's going to be packed with women. We could go to O'Grady's after
wards,
if we're going slutty."

"No, my brothers might be there and they'll tell my mom." The last time I'd been there, I'd worn a cute
,
little
,
black dress and
was
happily chattin
g
with
a really nice, smart guy wearing
a hundred
-
dollar shirt when my brothers muscled in an
d he escaped. Turn
ed
out, Daniel
had been present at the guy’
s bail hearing
for assault
a month earlier and the guy was pretty dumb to
choose
to hang out at a cop bar after that. My mom
got
on the phone the next morning
and tried
to set
me up on a date with the twice-
divorced son of one of
the classmates in her evening
French cooking
class
.

"Yeah, bad idea
,” agreed
Li
ly, who knew the full extent of my mortification
.
“
Maybe we could try somewhere different
. I know the girl working the door at Paradise
tonight
. I bet she could get us in free."

"Great."

I let Lily out
,
then showered and washed my hair, quickly
blowdrying it
before
fastening it back into a high ponytail
.
T
his time
,
however,
it was smooth and sleek
and my face was
n’t
bright red from
all the
exertion
earlier
. I picked out a beige shift dress with black panels on the sides, black pumps and finished it off with a cropped
,
black jacket. I fished a nice purse out of the wicker basket s
i
t
ting
on the floor of my closet and
got
my
tote, transferring
my cell phone and wallet.
In doing so
, I noticed the matchbook and the little black notebook I
pilfered
from Dean's house.

I opened the notebook, peering at the rows of numbers inside. They seemed to
be divided
into sections, the long rows of numbers further separated by slashes
;
but other than that
,
none of it made sense. They didn't look like any number sequence I
’
d
ever
seen; not phone numbers, bank accounts or dates
;
and there was page after page of them. I did
, however,
recognize Dean's cramped handwriting
. Once,
when
Dominic
was overwhelmed
, he had
asked
me
to type up
some of Dean's notes
and this was clearly the same hand
.

Glancing at my watch, I realized I didn't have time to sit and ponder the numbers
or I
would
be late.
I stuffed the notebook and matchbook into my dresser drawer, snatched my purse
,
and
hurried
to meet Serena.

By the time I got to the restaurant
, Serena
had already arrived and was seated
at
a window table
that
overlook
ed
the street
.

"You're late," she said, glancing up from the menu.

"I couldn't find a parking space." Serena's
Mercedes
was parked directly outside
,
but I had to circle the block three times before
finding
a space
,
then
hike
back to the restaurant on my three
-
inch heels
.
Now in addition to my residual spinning aches,
my feet
were also sore
. I slid o
nto the seat opposite her and picked up my glass of mineral water, taking a sip.

"Well, you look nice," she said. "I had my fingers crossed that you wouldn't turn up in jeans."

"You sound like Mom." I don't think I've ever seen Serena in jeans. She's very much a skirts and dresses,
no matter
the weather, kind of woman. In summer
,
it's linens and cottons with neat little pumps; in winter, wool and tweed with long boots.
Today,
she wore a flared skirt in raspberry pink with a loose fitting
,
white top, as a concession to the neat bulge rounding out her belly. A thick scrapbook
lay
on the table
ominously
between us.

She picked it up, flipped to the page she wanted
,
and after running her eyes over it, passed it to me. I took it and
placed
it
on
the pristine white tablecloth. Serena, apparently, had thought of everything, from colors and fabric swatches to recipes and images she had neatly clipped from magazines. I kept my thumb on the page she marked and flipped through the book.

"You did all this when you f
ou
nd out you were pregnant?" I asked. Serena had always been a bookish sort
,
but more of the read
-
and
-
auto-
transcribe
-
a
-
textbook
type
. Somehow
,
I couldn't imagine her s
itting on her living room floor
,
surrounded by baby magazines, eagerly clipping and gluing into the scrapbook.

"A couple of years," she replied and her eyes closed for a moment. "We've been trying
for
a while."

In an uncharacteristic moment of sisterly bonding, I reached across the table and
held her
hands
in mine
. "I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't know."

"Well, you wouldn't," she sniffed. "You have your own life."

"I would have still come with you, if you needed someone to go to the hospital with you, or, you know, stuff." I didn't know what stuff, but I would have
found out
.

"Thank you, Alexandra. It didn't quite get to IVF
,
though we talked about it. The baby is natural
,
"
she finished proudly
.
God forbid Serena should ever have to get help for anything, even her martyred ovaries.

We both
looked a bit sick then. Serena
:
because
she was pregnant. Me
:
because I had a mental flash of
she and
Ted getting it on. "So, tell me what you want," I said, steering the conversation away from Ted in the buff.
Humping.

Serena looked equally relieved. "I thought you could host it here. Alessandro's has a private room upstairs that
would be
perfect. Mindy Laws had her shower here last year."

"Do you really want to have the shower here after Mindy?" I had no idea why she and Serena
remained
friends. Even by Serena's standards, Mindy was a spectacular bitch.
She was mean too.

Serena's mouth twitched downwards. "No, she'll never let me forget it." She took
out
a pen and a neat
,
little
,
leather notebook and crossed Alessandro's off the list. "Where else could I have it?"

"What about at your house?
You have lots of space.
"

"Ted hates mess
es
."

"Ted's not invited. We can clean up before he gets home.
Garrett
, Daniel and Jord could take him to a bar."

"Ted doesn't like bars."

I made a mental note to get Jord to take Ted to a strip bar. "The boys can work it out."

"I suppose I could hire a clean
ing crew
."

"How about instead of ducks and baby animals,
we
do a spa theme?" I suggested
, after scanning the page and flipping to the next
. "It'll be totally original."

Serena wrinkled her nose. "It's not very babyish."

"It's about you! Everyone could get manicures and pedicures or mini facials. We could do a whole spa theme with those mocktini things you want, and cucumbers, and
…
healthy stuff."
I
trailed off, running
out of ideas.