The Fidelity Files (Jennifer Hunter #1)(25)
The number is not published anywhere. I simply will not allow it. My services are offered by referral only. Grassroots, word-of -mouth... call it whatever marketing mumbo jumbo you want, that's just the way I work. The minute you start advertising your number on a local bus stop bench is the minute right before you lose your credibility, your confidentiality, and your certain air of mystery. All three very important aspects of this job.
On my way to the restaurant my personal cell phone rang. And just as I was about to shut the damn thing off and ignore the world for a few hours, I saw my niece Hannah's name on the caller ID. My mood instantly changed. Like magic.
"Hi, honey!" I said into the phone.
"You're still coming next Friday, right?"
Hannah was turning twelve next weekend. Her mom (my half sister, Julia) had planned a family dinner with some of Hannah's closest friends on Friday night, and she couldn't have been more excited about it.
"Of course, I'm coming!" My voice was light and animated. It was partially a result of Hannah's uplifting effect on me and partially a creation designed especially to camouflage the nature and harsh reality of my real life. If there was a way I could shield her eyes from everything I've seen in the world, I would. In a heartbeat.
But I knew it was impossible. She was going to come face-to-face with it sooner or later. Even if I never slept, never ate, never watched another minute of TiVo and simply devoted every waking hour of my life to taking down the bad guys, there was still no way I could change the world in time for her to grow up.
"Good," she said with satisfaction. "'Cause I told my best friends that you're coming and that you have like the awesomest clothes in the world."
I looked down at my current ensemble of ripped jeans and a sweatshirt and could immediately picture Hannah's disapproving expression. "Well, I can't wait to meet them. But, actually, I gotta run. I'm on my way to brunch with some friends."
"You're so lucky. I want to come to brunch with you and your friends."
I laughed at her eagerness. It reminded me of myself when I was her age. Well... before the night everything changed, anyway.
"I promise, you'd be bored out of your mind," I assured her.
"Nah-uh." She was determined. "I bet you guys talk about totally cool stuff."
I imagined what our "cool" conversation would be like today. Sophie going on and on about every single tiny detail of her so-called "drama" with Eric the night before, and then me trying desperately to convince her of all the reasons why he wouldn't want to leave her, while Zo? tries to keep her composure and John tries to change the subject so we can all talk about him.
"You'd be surprised," I told her.
I ARRIVED at the restaurant to find Sophie sitting alone at a table in the back. She waved me over and I maneuvered my way through the closely laid-out tables and took the chair next to her.
"Okay, so what's the big drama? Textbook case of dysfunctional relationship between man and phone? Or nocturnal activity selection dispute?"
"Not until everyone's here," she insisted.
I tilted my head and studied her face. There was something there I wasn't expecting to see. I had counted on wading into a sea of Kleenexes, tears, and uncertainty, followed by a long sob story about Eric and how things were suddenly completely different between them, and she wasn't sure how their relationship would ever recover.
But that's not what I saw in her eyes as I watched her. She looked...dare I say it? Happy. Almost blissful.
I was about to open my mouth and comment on her unusual air when I was interrupted by a loud, nasally sound coming from the front of the restaurant.
"There they are," John practically yelled to Zo? as they pushed their way to the back.
John was the only guy we ever allowed to infiltrate our close-knit girl circle. Of course, it did help that he was gay and could therefore join in on all conversations and offer very valuable advice relating to men, fashion, celebrity gossip, and blow jobs. (Of course, not necessarily in that order.) But personally, I think he prefers hanging out with us. Mostly because he just doesn't like other gay men... except the ones he's sleeping with.
"I'm so hungry, I could eat my own head," he said dramatically as he pulled out his chair and plopped down into it.
"That's ridiculous," Zo? said, visibly irritated. "What would you chew it with?"
John shot her a look and she sneered back. The two of them were almost always in the middle of some type of mock competition over who could be the most clever and the most annoying at the same time. Sometimes it was amusing to watch, but most of the time it just got old... fast.
"There have to be a zillion restaurants in L.A. and we always come here." Zo? opened her menu, completely oblivious to Sophie's unmistakable glow.
"I like it here," Sophie defended herself timidly, her hands tucked under the tabletop, like a shy child eating for the first time at the grown-ups' table.
"Did you know that it would take four-point-five lifetimes to eat at every single restaurant in the city of Los Angeles without ever duplicating," Zo? stated expertly, keeping her eyes locked on her menu. "And that's if you start at age five!"
"Did you have a date with the heir to the Zagat fortune last night?" John asked.