Dangerous Ladies (5 page)

“I appreciate the business. Thank Eric for me,” Mr. Nguyen said.

“So how much?” She pushed the box toward the pawnshop owner. Into the phone she said, “Alan got his girlfriend pregnant and had to marry her in a quickie Vegas wedding.”

“Was Elvis involved?” Kim shot back.

“Dunno.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Kim said. “That bloodless little weenie Alan got a girl pregnant and had to get married?”

Now Kim had surprised Brandi. “Didn’t you like him?”

“You know how doctors always have this cachet, this intensity, this certainty that makes you pay attention to their every word?”

“Yeah.”

“Alan would have made a good accountant.”

Brandi gave a spurt of laughter.

The pawnshop owner wasn’t really old, maybe in his sixties, but he had that palsy that some people get. His fingers were shaking as he placed the jeweler’s glass in his eye and peered at the diamond.

“You don’t sound particularly brokenhearted.” Kim sounded cautious.

“I’m sure brokenhearted will come later. Right now I’m just furious. I guess it’s the prospect of pawning my diamond and knowing that Alan will have to pay through the nose to get it back.”

“Hmm. Well. That’s good.”

Brandi knew Kim had made some judgment, the sense of which escaped her, but she didn’t care. As long as she got her revenge. Because no matter what they taught in ethics class in law school, revenge tasted really good.

“A fabulous diamond in a popular setting,” Mr. Nguyen said.

“You can easily resell it,” Brandi agreed.

In her ear, Kim asked, “What did Tiffany say about Alan and his new wife?”

“I haven’t exactly told her.”

“You didn’t tell your mother?” Kim sounded incredulous.

“I can’t. She’s going to say, ‘I told you so. I told you you have to cater to a man. I told you you couldn’t act as if your career is as important as his. I told you to be a Stepford wife.’”

“I think you’re doing your mom a disservice.” As usual when they talked about Tiffany, Kim sounded calm and wise.

“Last night when I hadn’t heard a word from him since I moved, she was defending him.” And while that had riled Brandi last night, today it made her furious.

“Last night you intended to marry him and she wanted desperately to make sure
your
marriage worked, so she counseled you the best she knew how.”

“I suppose.” Kim could be right. Probably was right. But Brandi wasn’t in the mood to be fair.

“Have you talked to our father?” Kim used the deeply mocking tone she always used when she talked about Daddy.

“About Alan? I don’t
think
so.” Brandi ladled on the sarcasm.

“No, for his birthday.”

“Damn. I forgot again.” And Tiffany had reminded her.

“Don’t blame you. I girded my loins and made the call. Bastard didn’t even bother to pick up, so I left a message.”

“Aren’t you lucky?”

“That’s what I tell myself.”

Mr. Nguyen was staring at the diamond as if deep in thought and tapping his chin.

“I have the paperwork,” Brandi told him. She’d searched half the night for the sheet that rated the diamond’s clarity and flawlessness.

He barely glanced at it. “Okay, I’ll give you eight thousand.”

“Dollars?” Brandi was stunned. Alan had paid ten thousand; he’d
made sure she saw the bill of sale. In fact, he’d demanded she
appreciate
the bill of sale.

The asshole.

As Tiffany’s jewelry had had to be sold to support them, Brandi had gained experience with pawnshop owners. They never paid more than twenty-five percent of appraised value, and
then
they acted as if they were doing you a favor. And they never, ever appraised the jewelry wrong.

Haggling was a fine art in a pawnshop, and Brandi had been prepared to bargain. But maybe while she’d had her head down studying in law school, diamonds had taken a hike in value. Hastily she said, “Sure. Eight thousand. It’s a deal.”

“That’s good,” Kim said appreciatively.

Mr. Nguyen slipped the diamond into a box and slid it into the case. “A pretty girl like you needs jewels to decorate your neck and ears. Yesterday I got in diamond earrings—”

“I don’t care if I never see another diamond as long as I live.” Brandi had never meant anything as much in her life.

“Who are you and what have you done with my sister?” Kim gasped in simulated dismay.

“Shaddup,” Brandi said into the phone.

“Sapphires to match your beautiful eyes.” Mr. Nguyen smiled at her, but he had white lines around his mouth and a birthmark on his cheek . . . or a bruise.

She glanced at the two guys. They’d moved to the computer counter. They were chatting in low voices, seemingly focused on the array of iPods in the case. They weren’t standing close, and they seemed unconcerned about her transaction, but both had their scarves wrapped over the tops of their heads and over their mouths. A niggling unease worked its way up her spine. It almost looked as if they were trying to disguise themselves.

“Kim, hold on a minute. . . .” She leaned across the counter. “Sapphires might be just what I need.” In a lower voice, she said, “Do you need help?”

“What’s happening?” Kim spoke softly in her ear.

Mr. Nguyen smiled even more broadly as he placed a small white box on the counter. “No. I’m hiring no one right now. It’s too cold and business is not good.”

“What’s wrong?” Kim repeated.

“Nothing. I think.” Brandi picked up the box and asked Mr. Nguyen, “Those guys aren’t bothering you?”

“They’re in the neighborhood all the time. They came in to get warm and to see what I have in electronics.” He shrugged. “They’re hackers.”

“Hackers?” That wasn’t good.

“Maybe I said that wrong. They’re computer geeks.” Leaning across, he flipped open the lid.

What met Brandi’s eyes made her catch her breath. Held upright on the tiny white velvet showcase, the sapphires blinked in a glorious shade of blue.

“Whoa.” They must have been a carat each, set in yellow gold. Brandi forgot how to haggle, how to play hard to get. She was almost salivating on the counter when she said, “Gorgeous.”

“I swear to God, Brandi, if you don’t talk to me . . .” Kim sounded pissed.

“Sorry. I got distracted. There are these sapphires—”

“Good ones?” Kim liked her jewelry and had been a willing student when Tiffany taught the girls how to tell the real from the dross. “No, wait! You can’t divert me. Is there something wrong in that place?”

Brandi glanced at the guys again. They were pointing down at an antique tiara and laughing. They looked youthful and carefree, and one laughed hard enough to start coughing. He sounded sick, like he had bronchitis, and the other pounded on his back. Brandi supposed the scarves might be because they were cold or ill. She didn’t know why Mr. Nguyen wouldn’t tell her if there was a problem.

And the sapphires drew her gaze like hot coals. “Everything’s fine. Now let me look at these stones.” Brandi accepted Mr. Nguyen’s
offer of his jeweler’s glass. She wiped it carefully, then held it to her eye. “Cornflower blue,” she pronounced.

“From Kashmir,” Mr. Nguyen said.

“From Kashmir,” Kim echoed. “The best.”

“One has an inclusion partially covered by the prong. The other has a blemish. I think they’re real.”

“They are real! Ask around. I have a good reputation. I don’t rip off anyone!” Mr. Nguyen was obviously indignant. “One thousand!”

“Apiece?” she asked, incredulous about the price.

“For the pair!”

The sapphires were real, with the flaws only genuine stones contained. They were cornflower blue, the most desirable shade. He wanted only a thousand, and just as pawnbrokers were known for buying low, they were also reputed to sell high.

Kim reflected Brandi’s suspicion. “A thousand for the pair? Why?”

“It is my birthday, and a Vietnamese tradition to treat the first guest with honor on that day.” Mr. Nguyen, who so far had been speaking and acting like an American born and raised, bowed like an Asian.

Caught by surprise, Brandi bowed back. “Happy birthday.”

With a return to his businesslike demeanor, Mr. Nguyen said, “So I owe you seven thousand dollars—that’s the eight for the ring minus the thousand for the sapphires. I’ll cut you a check and wrap the earrings for you.”

“Yes. Thank you.” Into the phone Brandi said, “Maybe my luck has changed.”

“I’ll say!” Kim’s enthusiasm was contagious. “What’s the plan now?”

“What makes you think I have a plan?”

“Honey, you’re a lawyer. You don’t take a shit without a plan.”

“Hey! That’s not true. I can be spontaneous!” Sometimes. Once in a while. Occasionally.

“Yeah, yeah. You and your master lists and your daily lists and your daily planner and your PDA.”

“You are such a bitch.”

“Yes, I know, and what you are is the antithesis of
spontaneous.
” Kim sounded wry, amused, and not at all offended.

After the divorce, Kim had been the older sister who helped Brandi through the trauma of losing her father, of seeing her mother fall apart, of eventually losing their house and of dealing with the slow, difficult drift down into poverty. Kim had been the one who insisted Brandi look forward and see that someday she would be able to take control of her own life and no longer be driven by circumstances.

Brandi scrutinized Mr. Nguyen as he slid the earrings into the holes in the display insert. He affixed the backs to the posts; then, noticing the way she watched him, he smiled and lifted the insert out of the box. “Do you want to wear them?” He held it out.

She did. They were so beautiful, and sapphires were reputed to bring good luck. Or bad luck; she couldn’t remember. At this point, who cared? She would survive. She would prosper. She would make that son of a bitch Alan sorry.

She leaned over the mirror and inserted first one post, then the other into her pierced ears. “My God, Kim. They’re fabulous.” They
were
the same color as her eyes. Smiling into her reflection, she groped for the display insert and handed it back to Mr. Nguyen. She heard the click as he shut the case, and tore herself away from the enthralling sight of her ears in those gorgeous earrings. Straightening up, she accepted the small velvet box from Mr. Nguyen and stuck it into her pocket.

“Who do I make the check out to?” Mr. Nguyen asked quietly.

“Brandi Lynn Michaels.” B-R-A-N-D-I L-Y-N-N . . .” Brandi spelled each name slowly and carefully.

“The plan,” Kim demanded.

“I don’t have any water at my house. I’m dirty and I’m tired of peeing in a frozen toilet. I’m taking this money. I’m going to a five-star hotel.”

“Okay, I’ll buy that.” But Kim sounded cautious, as if she heard something awry in Brandi’s tone.

“I’m getting myself a suite on the concierge level. I’m going to bathe in a huge tub; then I’m going down to the shops on the Miracle Mile and I am buying myself the best dress ever. Red. I’m going to buy red, one that shows off my cleavage.”

“If I had your cleavage I’d show it off all the time,” Kim said.

“With touches of blue so I can wear my sapphires.” She smiled as she contemplated her next move. “I’m going to buy great underwear. Fancy, lacy panties and a bra that would make a statue drool.”

The guys at the end of the counter stopped laughing and stared at her. Stared as if they were memorizing her figure.

She must have been talking a little too loud.

She didn’t care. “Great shoes. I’m going to wear the highest heels, the most impractical fuck-me shoes ever created.”

She accept the engraved check Mr. Nguyen handed her. It was for the right amount, and she shook it at him and beamed. “I’ll be back!”

“Go on now.” He made a shooing motion at her. His hands were really shaking now.

“Are you sick?” Brandi asked.

“Yes. Sick. You should go. Go!”

“Thanks. It’s been great doing business with you.” She headed for the door.

“I’m not going to like the next part of your plan, am I?” Kim asked.

“You always told me I was old before my time.”

“Now I
know
I’m not going to like this.”

Brandi stepped outside. The blast of cold air felt as if it scoured the flesh off her face. “You always said I should do something wild while I was still young.”

“Now
you listen to me?” Kim moaned.

“I’m going to have a massage and a pedicure and a manicure and get dressed in all my glory.” Brandi pulled her scarf close around her ears. “And I’m going to a huge, prestigious charity party at Charles McGrath’s home.”

“Don’t do this,” Kim warned.

“I’m going to pick up a man.”

“This is not right,” Kim said.

“And I’m going to have one fabulous night of sex to remember for the rest of my life.”