Juni was into crystals and manifesting and reading people’s auras.
“Okay, Melissa, stop beating around the bush,” Courtney said. “We need a name.”
“His name is Jeff Talbert.”
“And…” Courtney pressed, as if she were cross-examining Melissa.
“And what?” Melissa said.
“And what else do you know about him?”
“Not much.” Except he knew how to kiss, and he knew how to touch, and for a little while he’d made her believe there was a way to salvage the bookstore.
“And you hired him anyway?” Courtney asked. “What is he? A librarian? A contractor? An interior designer? What?”
Oh, crap. She searched for a handy lie and came up empty. “I didn’t hire him,” she finally admitted.
“You didn’t?” Juni and her BFFs said more or less in unison.
She chugged down her second margarita. The tequila was starting to make her face feel a little numb. “He’s a writer. Well, he’s an unpublished writer who doesn’t seem to do much writing. But, anyway, he just sort of volunteered to help. For free. But he’s good at sorting books and color-coding price tags. Plus, he’s widely read.”
“He volunteered? ” Arwen said this in a voice loud enough so that half a dozen other Jaybird patrons turned and stared.
Courtney leaned forward with real concern on her face. “Are you out of your mind? Don’t you realize this guy could be a serial murderer, or a rapist, or something? You don’t know anything about this guy.”
Melissa didn’t know if Jeff was a serial murderer, but he sure wasn’t a rapist. That was good, wasn’t it?
Arwen pulled her iPhone from her purse. “Let’s just Google his name and see what comes up, okay?” Her thumbs got busy in an impressive way.
“Hmm, interesting. There are at least three Jeffrey Talberts who are professors, but they’re—”
“No way. That’s totally awesome.” Melissa got all warm and gooey inside as she grabbed Arwen’s phone. “Lemme see.”
The letdown was kind of momentous when the first photo—of Professor Jeffrey Talbert—was a balding guy in his late fifties. The next photo wasn’t much better. Melissa’s pulse kicked up as she continued to scroll through half a dozen Jeffrey Talberts, none of whom was younger than forty-five.
And then, finally, there he was. Only she almost didn’t recognize him. The photo was a professional studio head shot, and Jeff was wearing a dark, conservative suit jacket and a red tie. His face was clean-shaven, and his hair was a whole lot shorter.
“That’s him,” she said with a wistful sigh as she pointed to his photo.
Arwen snatched her phone away. Her thumbs got busy again, and then suddenly she said, “Oh my God, I can’t believe it.”
“What? Is he really a professor, because he dresses like—”
“No, honey, unfortunately not.” She tilted her phone so both Melissa and Courtney could see the screen. This time it was a photo of Jeff wearing a tuxedo with a blond bombshell on his arm. Jealousy pricked Melissa from the inside. Oh boy, she was an idiot.
“His full legal name is Jefferson Talbert-Lyndon. That should strike a familiar chord since the New York Times , the Washington Post , the Wall Street Journal , and every cable news network known to man have been dragging him through the mud for the last three weeks. Honey, he’s a journalist. And he’s also Nina Talbert’s sole heir. When she kicks the bucket, he gets her billions.”
“What? Did you say Lyndon?” Melissa was confused. The margaritas had fogged her brain.
“Lemme see that,” Courtney said, grabbing the phone out of Arwen’s hand. “Oh my God. Melissa, he is a Lyndon.”
“What?” Melissa’s brain was having trouble processing her friends’ words.
“He’s that guy on the news. You know, the one who wrote that article that everyone is screaming about. About the Supreme Court.”
Melissa shook her head. She had no idea what Courtney was talking about. She’d been hiding out in the
“Okay, Melissa, stop beating around the bush,” Courtney said. “We need a name.”
“His name is Jeff Talbert.”
“And…” Courtney pressed, as if she were cross-examining Melissa.
“And what?” Melissa said.
“And what else do you know about him?”
“Not much.” Except he knew how to kiss, and he knew how to touch, and for a little while he’d made her believe there was a way to salvage the bookstore.
“And you hired him anyway?” Courtney asked. “What is he? A librarian? A contractor? An interior designer? What?”
Oh, crap. She searched for a handy lie and came up empty. “I didn’t hire him,” she finally admitted.
“You didn’t?” Juni and her BFFs said more or less in unison.
She chugged down her second margarita. The tequila was starting to make her face feel a little numb. “He’s a writer. Well, he’s an unpublished writer who doesn’t seem to do much writing. But, anyway, he just sort of volunteered to help. For free. But he’s good at sorting books and color-coding price tags. Plus, he’s widely read.”
“He volunteered? ” Arwen said this in a voice loud enough so that half a dozen other Jaybird patrons turned and stared.
Courtney leaned forward with real concern on her face. “Are you out of your mind? Don’t you realize this guy could be a serial murderer, or a rapist, or something? You don’t know anything about this guy.”
Melissa didn’t know if Jeff was a serial murderer, but he sure wasn’t a rapist. That was good, wasn’t it?
Arwen pulled her iPhone from her purse. “Let’s just Google his name and see what comes up, okay?” Her thumbs got busy in an impressive way.
“Hmm, interesting. There are at least three Jeffrey Talberts who are professors, but they’re—”
“No way. That’s totally awesome.” Melissa got all warm and gooey inside as she grabbed Arwen’s phone. “Lemme see.”
The letdown was kind of momentous when the first photo—of Professor Jeffrey Talbert—was a balding guy in his late fifties. The next photo wasn’t much better. Melissa’s pulse kicked up as she continued to scroll through half a dozen Jeffrey Talberts, none of whom was younger than forty-five.
And then, finally, there he was. Only she almost didn’t recognize him. The photo was a professional studio head shot, and Jeff was wearing a dark, conservative suit jacket and a red tie. His face was clean-shaven, and his hair was a whole lot shorter.
“That’s him,” she said with a wistful sigh as she pointed to his photo.
Arwen snatched her phone away. Her thumbs got busy again, and then suddenly she said, “Oh my God, I can’t believe it.”
“What? Is he really a professor, because he dresses like—”
“No, honey, unfortunately not.” She tilted her phone so both Melissa and Courtney could see the screen. This time it was a photo of Jeff wearing a tuxedo with a blond bombshell on his arm. Jealousy pricked Melissa from the inside. Oh boy, she was an idiot.
“His full legal name is Jefferson Talbert-Lyndon. That should strike a familiar chord since the New York Times , the Washington Post , the Wall Street Journal , and every cable news network known to man have been dragging him through the mud for the last three weeks. Honey, he’s a journalist. And he’s also Nina Talbert’s sole heir. When she kicks the bucket, he gets her billions.”
“What? Did you say Lyndon?” Melissa was confused. The margaritas had fogged her brain.
“Lemme see that,” Courtney said, grabbing the phone out of Arwen’s hand. “Oh my God. Melissa, he is a Lyndon.”
“What?” Melissa’s brain was having trouble processing her friends’ words.
“He’s that guy on the news. You know, the one who wrote that article that everyone is screaming about. About the Supreme Court.”
Melissa shook her head. She had no idea what Courtney was talking about. She’d been hiding out in the
Similar Books
