Read Online Valentine's Day Is Killing Me by Mary Janice Davidson, Susanna Carr, Leslie Esdaile - Free Book Online Page A
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muttered, “promise me I’ll be able to work as a security guard in your office building.”
“Did you get it?”
“Yeah,” Ray said, his tone growing surlier as he pulled up a file of known prostitutes and studied the unnamed woman’s photo beside it. She was fine indeed, but that wasn’t the point. “Girlfriend is all pro, my brother,” he finally said, pushing away from his desk. “Busted last year in the suburbs, Montgomery County, for porn movies with animals, then—”
“What!”
Ray couldn’t help but chuckle as he stared at the honey-blond sister with the body that wouldn’t quit.
“You’re killin’ me, Ray-Ray. Say it ain’t so!”
Raymond laughed and began closing computer files. “Man, listen, you mess with her if ya wanna, but you might get hoof-and-mouth disease.” He laughed harder as one of his older vice colleagues passed his desk, caught the comment, and slapped him five. His other buddy, Raul, was openly laughing and pounded his fist as he went for coffee.
“Tell your boy he might get his feelings hurt coming behind a stallion and a couple of Dobermans,” Raul teased. “I know he thinks he’s the baddest mutha in the valley and all, but hey. He ain’t no Smarty Jones, last I checked—and this sister is into thoroughbred racers.”
“The peanut gallery has weighed in,” Raymond said, his mood much improved. “Case closed, man. But you still owe me for even considering doing a spot investigation. When you gonna learn, brother? Just take Wanda out, be cool, treat the sister right, get some, and go home. Why the intrigue, why the drama? Live the simple life and stay alive. Wanda’s gonna cut you, one of these days.”
His friend was laughing so hard that he had to be sure his cell phone wasn’t on Speaker.
“I know, man,” Marcus said, wheezing. “But it’s just the dawg in me—the thrill of the hunt, the adrenaline of the chase—the not knowing the conclusion. Big game huntin’ is just—”
“Suicidal, yo. So, I have things to do, you need to be prepping some poor client’s case, and tomorrow, for me, is like a black hole in the universe. It doesn’t exist. I’m working.”
Tonight was the big night. Jocelyn cleaned her small loft apartment with the fervor of a woman on a mission. Music blared from her five-CD tabletop stereo system. Alicia Keyes, Myra, Jill Scott, all the divas were in the house. Power music. Women of substance. Yes!
It hadn’t bothered her one bit that tennis bracelets had glinted off her coworkers’ wrists, or that flowers had shown up on blushing females’ desks. She was impervious to the slings and arrows of outrageous misfortune. Their little digs at lunch didn’t bother her one bit. Signifying sighs of bliss didn’t break her down. Tonight, she and her posse of strong, sane, independent women were not going to allow Valentine’s Day to kill their joy or self-esteem. Nope.
On her way home from work, she’d gone crazy, buying all sorts of pretty flowers to put in every room. Birds of paradise, roses, calla lilies, and large sunflowers made her place a veritable garden—Tina would most appreciate that. Candles were perched in lovely holders all around; even the bathroom had some. The Dollar Store was her store !
She’d found fresh Dollar Store towels and had laid them out on her bed, alongside inexpensive little silk robes that she’d practically stolen down in Chinatown for ten bucks each. But it was a necessity for each girlfriend with matching Chinese slippers, just so they could be pampered in style. Red would be for her, yellow for Jacqui, electric blue for Tina, and jade for Freddie.
Aromatherapy would add to their healing sanctuary, and she lit incense everywhere, spilling lavender and jasmine throughout her apartment. The platters she’d picked up at a discount from Tina’s job looked so good she wanted to pinch off them rather than wait, but resisted.
Gourmet cheeses and fresh deli salads and fruits
“Did you get it?”
“Yeah,” Ray said, his tone growing surlier as he pulled up a file of known prostitutes and studied the unnamed woman’s photo beside it. She was fine indeed, but that wasn’t the point. “Girlfriend is all pro, my brother,” he finally said, pushing away from his desk. “Busted last year in the suburbs, Montgomery County, for porn movies with animals, then—”
“What!”
Ray couldn’t help but chuckle as he stared at the honey-blond sister with the body that wouldn’t quit.
“You’re killin’ me, Ray-Ray. Say it ain’t so!”
Raymond laughed and began closing computer files. “Man, listen, you mess with her if ya wanna, but you might get hoof-and-mouth disease.” He laughed harder as one of his older vice colleagues passed his desk, caught the comment, and slapped him five. His other buddy, Raul, was openly laughing and pounded his fist as he went for coffee.
“Tell your boy he might get his feelings hurt coming behind a stallion and a couple of Dobermans,” Raul teased. “I know he thinks he’s the baddest mutha in the valley and all, but hey. He ain’t no Smarty Jones, last I checked—and this sister is into thoroughbred racers.”
“The peanut gallery has weighed in,” Raymond said, his mood much improved. “Case closed, man. But you still owe me for even considering doing a spot investigation. When you gonna learn, brother? Just take Wanda out, be cool, treat the sister right, get some, and go home. Why the intrigue, why the drama? Live the simple life and stay alive. Wanda’s gonna cut you, one of these days.”
His friend was laughing so hard that he had to be sure his cell phone wasn’t on Speaker.
“I know, man,” Marcus said, wheezing. “But it’s just the dawg in me—the thrill of the hunt, the adrenaline of the chase—the not knowing the conclusion. Big game huntin’ is just—”
“Suicidal, yo. So, I have things to do, you need to be prepping some poor client’s case, and tomorrow, for me, is like a black hole in the universe. It doesn’t exist. I’m working.”
Tonight was the big night. Jocelyn cleaned her small loft apartment with the fervor of a woman on a mission. Music blared from her five-CD tabletop stereo system. Alicia Keyes, Myra, Jill Scott, all the divas were in the house. Power music. Women of substance. Yes!
It hadn’t bothered her one bit that tennis bracelets had glinted off her coworkers’ wrists, or that flowers had shown up on blushing females’ desks. She was impervious to the slings and arrows of outrageous misfortune. Their little digs at lunch didn’t bother her one bit. Signifying sighs of bliss didn’t break her down. Tonight, she and her posse of strong, sane, independent women were not going to allow Valentine’s Day to kill their joy or self-esteem. Nope.
On her way home from work, she’d gone crazy, buying all sorts of pretty flowers to put in every room. Birds of paradise, roses, calla lilies, and large sunflowers made her place a veritable garden—Tina would most appreciate that. Candles were perched in lovely holders all around; even the bathroom had some. The Dollar Store was her store !
She’d found fresh Dollar Store towels and had laid them out on her bed, alongside inexpensive little silk robes that she’d practically stolen down in Chinatown for ten bucks each. But it was a necessity for each girlfriend with matching Chinese slippers, just so they could be pampered in style. Red would be for her, yellow for Jacqui, electric blue for Tina, and jade for Freddie.
Aromatherapy would add to their healing sanctuary, and she lit incense everywhere, spilling lavender and jasmine throughout her apartment. The platters she’d picked up at a discount from Tina’s job looked so good she wanted to pinch off them rather than wait, but resisted.
Gourmet cheeses and fresh deli salads and fruits
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