The Fidelity Files (Jennifer Hunter #1)(32)

I checked my watch. Damn, she was early. "Nothing," I said quickly. "I thought we weren't meeting until ten."

Zo? scooted in beside Sophie. "I'm sorry," she said, sounding insulted. "I didn't realize this conversation was IO." (Invite Only.)

I sighed and glanced at Sophie. "It wasn't. Sophie and I just got here."

Zo? smiled at us, completely oblivious to anything that might have gone on before she arrived. She craned her neck around and scoured the bar. "Where's the server? I'm gonna order a drink."

I tossed a pleading glance at Sophie.

"I'll think about it," she said quietly.

Zo? turned back around and immediately demanded to see Sophie's ring again, as if it might have somehow changed color or shape since she left it this morning.

I knew that our private chat time was officially over. It was all in Sophie's hands now. I only hoped that I'd made an impact.

One big enough to keep the secret.



JOHN ARRIVED slightly past ten o'clock and after Sophie's over -exaggerated account of my "remarkable" men-reading story, the rest of the evening was spent pointing out random people in the bar and urging me to reluctantly recite their life history. I felt like some sort of sideshow act at the circus freak show.

"She did it again!" Zo? exclaimed, after returning from the bar where she had been sent by John and Sophie to either confirm or deny my most recent analysis, of the tall and sexy bartender.

"He's a grad student?" Sophie asked eagerly.

Zo? nodded. "Getting his master's in psychology at UCLA."

They turned and stared at me in awe. "How did you know it was UCLA?" Sophie asked in amazement.

I suddenly wondered if sharing my improved "superpower" with Sophie had been such a good idea. I had intended it to be simply a persuasive tool to convince her not to hire...well, me to test her fiancé, but now it was getting out of hand. I was starting to worry that my friends knew too much and might start to get suspicious.

"And how did you know he's not just an actor?" John quickly followed. "I thought all bartenders in L.A. were actors?"

I exhaled loudly and started in on another explanation. My fourth for the evening. "Just look at him. He's definitely not an actor. Watch the way he carries himself. He's not here just for show. He's here with purpose. He has much more to offer the world than a nice face and the ability to take off his shirt for the camera. Bartending is also the perfect gig for students because it allows them to work at night. And he's too old to be an undergrad. That leaves grad school."

In unison, all three of my friends turned and watched the bartender as he poured a drink for a male patron.

"And the fact that he works here," I continued, "in Brentwood as opposed to downtown or Hollywood, means he's probably not studying at USC. Too far of a commute if he wants to make it to work by six P.M. That leaves UCLA."

They all turned back and looked at me again.

I attempted to downplay it. "It's just a basic process of elimination, really."

"WTF, mate?" Zo? shook her head in disbelief.

Sophie looked to me for a translation.

"What the f*ck," Zo? clarified with an impatient raise of her eyebrows. She hated having to speak in complete phrases; it wasted too much precious time. Acronyms were much more efficient. Well, assuming that everyone else knew what they stood for.

"I mean, I always knew you had a knack, but this is really something," Zo? continued, her eyes wide and wild with inspiration.

I shrugged and tried to think of a clever way to change the subject. But judging by the dumbfounded expressions on my friends' faces, I knew it wasn't going to be easy. "Something I just picked up, I guess." I tipped my head back and poured the rest of my martini down my throat.

"If only there was a way you could make money doing that," Zo? remarked, the wheels in her head turning.

I laughed weakly. "Yeah...if only."

"Or at least find a date once in a while." John sipped his Bahama-Mama Martini and winked at me.

"Ha! Like I have time to date."

Sophie reached across the booth and placed her hand gently on top of mine. It felt warm against my cold and clammy fingers. "He's right though, Jen. We're actually starting to get worried."

The mood of the conversation suddenly took a very somber turn as I looked up to see each of my friends nodding their heads in agreement. I had a sneaking suspicion that an ambush was coming my way. "What do you mean, worried?"

Even Zo?'s voice lowered to a tender lull. "We mean, you never date. As in never ever, and we know it's not for lack of opportunity. I've seen the way guys look at you." She motioned to the rest of the group. "We all have. And we're starting to wonder if it has to do with something more than just not having the time."

I immediately turned defensive. "Like what?"

Sophie shrugged innocently. "That's what we've been trying to figure out."

I could feel anger boiling up inside my stomach. I was beginning to think I knew exactly how George Washington felt when it was discovered that Benedict Arnold was working for the British. "So what, you guys just sit around discussing why I don't date? And then toss out ideas like a goddamn team of sitcom writers? Don't you have anything better to do with your time than analyze my lack of a dating life?"