The Divorce Club (27 page)

Mindy's bad mood starts to lift. "The push-up
bra's working then. I'm telling you, when you walked out Jamie
couldn't keep his eyes off you. He drooled all over the floor,
ready to prowl like a hungry wolf."

"What do you expect? I'm a man and I do have
eyes," Jamie says.

"Anyway," Mindy continues. "My makeup artist
friend will meet us at my place after seven. You'll look so hot
every guy in the bar will want you."

Jamie narrows his gaze. "I could drive you
there."

"She needs to arrive in her own car," Mindy
says.

"Why?"

I peer from one to the other, fascinated by
the fight for control between them. It's a little bit like watching
two panthers battling out their territory. Mesmerized, I shudder,
wishing I had a good glass of wine and some popcorn.

Mindy pats my hand. "Let's just say I have
huge plans for her."

"She's not going back to that old geezer's
place," Jamie says through gritted teeth.

That's my cue to jump in and pinch the
territory from under their noses. "Hey, I can speak for
myself."

"Okay." Jamie takes a deep breath, still
glaring. "Tell her you're not going back to the old man's
place."

Mindy shrugs. "I was thinking more along the
line of a hotel room."

The color’s draining from Jamie's face, and
his fingers start to drum on the table. He's staring at me, so I
stare back because I've no clue what he wants me to do or say. "Is
that what you want, Sarah?" There's a menacing tone in this voice.
I grin like an idiot because I love how jealous he is. What can I
say? I'm a hypocrite since I taught my clients jealousy stems from
a low self-esteem and yet I couldn't care less.

"She already agreed so back off." Suspicion
crosses Mindy's brows. "Wait a second! What do you even care? It's
none of your business, unless she's your girlfriend."

Yes, why would he care? I hold my breath,
waiting anxiously for his answer.

"Because—" He runs a hand through his hair
and scans the buzzing café now filled with midday customers. "She's
gullible and I don't want you to take advantage of her."

My mouth drops. "I'm what?"

"He just called you gullible." Mindy smirks.
"Show him, girlfriend."

Jamie raises his hand to stop me. "No,
listen, what I meant by that is you help out others even if it
involves doing something you're not comfortable with."

I raise my chin, defiantly. "You don't know
me at all. Maybe I want to get down and dirty with that guy." I
roll my eyes before I continue, "Look, it's my job to get the
photos for Mindy. I have to catch the cheating idiot, okay?
Whatever I do is in the club's best interest."

"But not in your own," Jamie mutters. "Mindy,
don't take this the wrong way, but you're the wolf in sheep's
clothing."

"Now I'm the bad one here," Mindy snaps. "I
have every right to ask for this because it's in the damn Divorce
Club manual. I'm leaving you two lovebirds alone. Got to go pick up
the boss's dry cleaning, wool coats and cotton shirts. See you
later. I would say goodbye, but I know Jamie would rather hear me
say, 'good baaahhhh'." She laughs and walks off.

"So," I start.

"So." Jamie drums his fingers on the table.
Our eyes connect.

"You're not like the others. You don't need
my club's services," I say.

He stops the drumming and drains his coffee,
hesitating. "What makes you say that?"

"Isn't it obvious? Chloe's moved out. You're
dating again." I laugh. "I was still a wreck months after my
divorce."

"Who said I'm dating?" He laughs. "You're
miffed because of France."

I shake my head. "It's not about France, but
since you mentioned it, why did you send your lawyer?"

Jamie resumes the drumming which irritates
me. "After calling the insurance company, he thought it was the
professional thing to do. I didn't know about it until Keith called
me from the hospital." His gaze seems too earnest and eager; I
don't believe him. He continues, "I see why you'd think I no longer
fit into your club, but I need your services more than ever."

"Why?" I cross my arms over my chest,
regarding him.

"Just the other day—" he pauses and moistens
his lips "—Chloe wanted to work things out. I didn't know what to
say."

My heart almost stops beating. I knew it was
just a matter of time until the wife entered the scene again, but I
didn't think it'd happen so soon. "Do you want to get back with
her?"

"No," he whispers. "See, that's why I need
this club. If we reconciled we'd both end up miserable. I need your
help to stay strong."

I nod, understanding the difficult situation
he's going through. The truth is, even if I wanted to end his
membership, my finances wouldn't survive the loss.

Jamie leans over the table and grabs my hand,
giving it a squeeze. "Does that mean I'm back in?"

My gaze narrows. "No more skipping
meetings?"

"Never."

"No more making me look stupid again in front
of the girls?"

"You're the boss." He winks. "I will never
question your authority—at the club. I can't promise the same will
apply to the other areas of my life though."

No idea what he's talking about, but it
sounds like he's ready for a change in attitude. "You'll take my
club seriously?"

"Absolutely."

"You'll bring cake and coffee every
week?"

He nods. "Done."

"Well then, yes. You're back in." I sigh at
the bells ringing inside my head.

He grins and my heart makes a somersault.
"You won't regret it."

I might, but I know my bank account won't.
"Sam's probably waiting." Standing, I reach for my shopping bags,
but he beats me to it.

"I'll drive you home."

"My car's parked outside." I grab the bags
from his outstretched hand and turn away mumbling, "See you
later."

Pushing my way through the crowd, I feel his
gaze fixed on my back. By the time I reach the car, I've regained
my composure and wish I hadn't left so suddenly. Even though he
denied it, Jamie might be seeing someone—or why else would he buy
the chocolate body paint? I have no interest in getting closer to
him on a personal level, or so I tell myself. But with the meeting
in just a few hours there's no time to brood over a guy.

I arrive home and slam the door in case Sam's
iPod's plugged into her eardrum again.

"Sam?"

No one answers, so I assume she's busy or
ignoring me, and hurry to get the shopping bag from the car. Greg
isn't around either, but his stuff's still here which makes me
think he hasn't reconciled with the pregnant girlfriend. I prepare
macaroni and cheese for my daughter and leave an extra portion
lying around in case Greg decides to tuck into Sam's dinner, then
head upstairs to try out the new look.

In the privacy of my bedroom, the underwear
doesn't look as tacky as before—until I squeeze the silicone
cushions beneath my breasts. I spin in a circle, leaning back and
forth, as I stare at my generous cleavage.

The door bursts open and Sam walks in, her
gaze fixing on my upper body. "Whoa, when did you get a boob job? I
thought we had no money."

"It's the bra." I grab a bathrobe and hurry
to cover up.

Sam's still staring. "They look fricking real
to me. Are you meeting Jamie?"

"Hey, watch your language." I sit on the bed,
casually crossing my legs as I put on a surprised expression. "What
makes you think I'm seeing Jamie?"

She points at my upper body. "The new
boobs."

"Oh, for crying out loud." I toss my hands in
the air. "It's just a bra. Mindy asked me to try it on, so I did
because I didn't know what to do while waiting for you to pop out
of your room." I cock a brow, eager to change the topic. "What were
you doing?"

Sam plops down next to me, shrugging. "I
walked to the bus station to pick up Kendra, but the bus was late."
She's lying, but I don't press the issue.

"I need to attend a work meeting tonight.
Will you be okay spending the evening with your dad?"

"So it
is
Jamie." She narrows her
gaze, regarding me intently. I roll my eyes.

"No, it's not."

"When will you be back?" Sam asks.

I hesitate. "I've no idea, sweetie. It
shouldn't take too long, but you know Mindy's a paying client. I'll
have to stay as long as she needs me. Why don't you have a snack
while I get ready?" She shrugs and heads out the door when I call
after her, "Where's your dad, by the way?"

"Don't know."

That's typical for Greg, always being 'out'
for hours even though he has no job. I'll ask him to leave when he
returns because there's no way he'll live here on my costs after
investing half of my house's worth into his affair.

When he finally gets home it's after six and
I'm late for my meeting, so there's not enough time to kick him out
the door. Besides, I wouldn't find another babysitter on such short
notice.

I grab my keys and open the door when Greg
appears behind me. "Where are you going?"

There goes my chance of avoiding him until
tomorrow. Sighing, I turn. "I didn't ask where you spend your days
even though you don't have a job and live here for free."

A frown appears between his brows. "About
that—"

"Don't bother. I'm not in the mood for lies."
I slam the door behind me, smiling because it's become so easy to
walk away.

Apart from a couple of guys dressed in
business suits, the bar's almost empty. I look anxiously at Jamie
who's sitting on the other side of the counter, blending right in
with his navy shirt and black tie. I always thought all men
visiting this type of establishment were weirdos in their
mid-forties and fifties, scrubby, leering and unable to find a
woman the old-fashioned way, but as usual, my worldview was based
on a cliché. As I scan the floor, I don't see anyone scruffy or
leering, which makes me feel even cheaper.

The thick foundation's sitting on my skin
like a mask. Mindy's makeup artist friend's applied so many layers
a clown probably looks more natural. I fear I'll need several
towels to wash it all off, but at least the bruises are covered up.
My little black skirt rides up my thighs almost to my hips.
Granted, with all the bronzer my legs have never looked more toned,
but I still don't feel comfortable and the killer heels and low-cut
top aren't helping either. Jamie won't complain any time soon
though. In the last fifteen minutes, he's barely peeled his eyes
off me even though a scantily dressed dancer's taken up the stage,
swaying her hips with the music, as she strips off layer after
layer until she's wearing a thong that barely covers modesty. The
music changes in beat and another dancer enters the stage, this
one's even more gorgeous than the previous one. It seems
unbelievable that a rich, successful guy will go for a woman like
me rather than a twenty-something stripper with luscious legs, and
yet Mindy's confident he will.

I cross my legs, careful not to flash my
undies, and slump deeper into my seat, waiting for my prey to
arrive. Mindy said he'd be here at nine latest, but it's already
ten minutes past, which makes me anxious. Has he discovered our
conspiracy? Has there been a change of plans? I sigh and scan the
bar area again. Being here's wrong in all senses of the word, and
yet I can't bring myself to leave.

My phone vibrates on the table. I peer at the
caller ID and groan. It's my landline number. Either Sam wants to
make sure I'm really not seeing Jamie, or Greg has some special
requests such as to bring him a takeaway on way back. It wouldn't
be the first time.

"Yes?" I shout to hear my voice through the
music even though the person on the line can probably understand me
just fine.

"Is that Circus by Britney Spears? My
goodness, are you at a bar?" It's Greg.

"What's it to you?"

"I'm babysitting our thirteen-year-old
daughter while you're dancing the night away like some tramp. Need
I remind you you're not twenty-one anymore? You have a family and
responsibilities now. It's time to grow up, Sarah."

I snort. If he lectures me one more time
about my
responsibilities
I'll explode. "Like you have room
to talk. You know, the line's breaking up. I'll talk to you
later."

"Wait. Our daughter informs me that
my
wife is out with some guy. Is it true?"

Wife? For a moment, anger chokes my throat,
making breathing impossible. "You know we're divorced, right? If I
want to go out with a guy I'll do it. In the end, it's none of your
business."

"Actually, it is since we're back together
and all."

Did I miss something? Jamie shoots me a
questioning look, so I turn my back on him as I shout, "What makes
you—"

Greg cuts me off. "I know you're still mad
because of what happened, but you've got to let it go. We talked
about it a million times. It was your fault just as much as mine,
maybe even more so because you were a nag."

From the corner of my eye, I notice a guy in
his mid-fifties sit a few stools away. The black mop of hair on his
head's unmistakable the same as in the picture Mindy showed me
earlier.

"Just do me a favor and go away." I hang up
on Greg, my heart thumping like a drum in my ears as I turn to the
right. It's him. He's here. In my mind, I rehearsed it a million
times in the last two hours and yet I can't seem able to remember
how I'm supposed to start a conversation.

My fingers play with the straw in my glass,
swirling the orange juice around. I hope he'll hoist himself over
here because there's no way I'll make a move. Unfortunately, the
seconds tick by, but he doesn't approach me. So, Mindy was wrong;
the guy doesn't find me attractive after all. Granted, this is a
strip establishment with plenty of stunning girls and I'm past my
prime, but I'm not
that
old.