The Fidelity Files (Jennifer Hunter #1)(30)

And even if I did try to persuade her to just let it go, what's to say she would even listen? No one knows as well as I do that trust isn't something anyone can convince you to have. It's something you have to find within yourself. And in the end, most people just hire someone like me.

Of course, I could always go with option three. But I suppose that would require me to actually come up with an option three. And so far I was drawing a blank. So there went that idea.

By the time I arrived home I had made a decision. That destructive little piece of paper was in the trash, but that meant nothing. She had gotten the number once; if she wanted to, she could easily get it again.

I just had to get to her first. Explain myself and hope to God she understands.

And tonight was the perfect time to do it.

I called up Zo? and John and told them to meet us at our favorite bar at 10:00. Then I called Sophie and told her to meet me at 9:00. One hour should be enough time to work my magic. Hey, if I could convince a forty-year-old CEO of a reputable auto engine manufacturer that I knew how a spark plug worked, I should be able to convince my best friend of what I was about to tell her.

Should being the operative word, of course.



SOPHIE AND I found a quiet booth at the back of Jayes Martini Lounge, an upscale Brentwood bar that had recently replaced our former local hangout after Zo? insisted that it had become overrun with "HDFBs" (horny drunk frat boys). Plus, Jayes offered us a much larger selection of fun, froo-froo, girly martinis that would surely make James Bond cringe.

Sophie slid into the booth and looked disconcertedly toward the front door. She checked her watch. "I wonder why they're not here yet."

"Actually," I said, sliding in across from her, "I told them to come later. There's something I want to talk to you about."

Sophie placed her small, lime-green handbag down next to her, then set her drink on the table and arranged it perfectly so that it sat centered between her shoulder blades. Finally she looked up at me, ready for whatever was coming...or at least she thought so.

"What's up?"

"It's about before," I began. "The name and the number you showed me."

She nodded. "The one you threw in the trash."

I smiled. "Yeah, that one."

"What about it?"

"Well..." I swallowed hard. Here goes nothing. "There's something you don't know about me."

Sophie laughed loudly, and it came out more like a snort. "Jen, I've known you since we were eight. I know everything about you."

I nearly cringed. Her words stung, and it made what I was about to do that much harder.

"Well, you don't know this," I said sincerely.

The seriousness in my voice immediately got her attention and held it. She leaned in closer and waited.

"You know that...well, skill I have?"

"Men reading?" Sophie said promptly. That's what she and Zo? had endearingly nicknamed it a long time ago, when we first discovered I was blessed with it. Although tonight it seemed more like a curse.

"Yes... that." I took a deep breath. "Well, recently it's been... let's just say 'enhanced.' And now it's more than just a...you know, party trick. It's...well, it's pretty damn accurate."

I could feel a groan building up in my throat. I sounded like one of those crazy psychics on Venice Beach, trying to convince some gullible tourist to buy into my mind-reading abilities. It was pathetic.

Sophie crinkled her forehead. "What do you mean?"

I stammered, searching for the right words, but they wouldn't come. It was as if they didn't even exist. The English language just wasn't designed to explain something like this to your best friend. "Fuck it!" I finally said. "I know for sure that Eric's not the cheating type, and that's all there is to it."

I released a heavy sigh and then watched Sophie's reaction carefully, waiting for any indication of conviction. She looked down and touched the frothy top of her Orange-Dream Martini with her fingertip.

Her lack of words made me feel obliged to add more of my own. Lots more. "Just trust me on this one. Like I said, I'm hardly wrong about men...you know that! You don't need to go through with this fidelity-whatever crap. It's totally useless." I was starting to ramble. "He'll pass this so-called 'undercover test' with flying colors, and then you'll forever have to hide the fact that you sent out some professional to spy on him because you didn't trust him! You don't want to start this marriage out on the wrong foot, do you?"

"You've never even met him. How can you be so sure?"

I hesitated, scanning the room for help, any kind of help. "I... I...I've never met... that guy," I said, quickly pointing to a man at the bar who was attempting to chat up a tall, attractive Asian girl, and unsuccessfully at that. "And I bet I can read him."

Sophie looked over at the man at the bar, then turned back and skeptically crossed her arms over her chest. "Okay, fine."

I twisted in my seat and watched the subject in the dark pants and starched gray button-up shirt. I studied him exactly as I would study a client's husband or boyfriend. I looked for tiny details... small, unnoticeable mannerisms. There was usually no method to the madness; the answers just came to me somehow . . . almost magically.