Fortune and Glory (Stephanie Plum, #27)(41)

“That would be hot,” Potts said.

I took my card back and put it in my messenger bag. “I don’t think I would be comfortable in a leather bra.”

“You gotta see the whole picture,” Lula said. “The hair is sexy in a sweet way. And then you pair it up with nasty clothes, and it says Hey, look at me. I’m complex.”

“I don’t feel complex,” I said.

“That’s on account of you’re in a transitional phase in your life what with the new hair,” Lula said. “You leave it to Potts and me and we’ll get you sorted out.”

“I’ve got a lot of ideas,” Potts said. “I’ve been reading the fashion and makeup magazines while I’ve been waiting.”

I looked at Lula. “I thought Connie said you had a temporary crown in place of the one that got damaged.”

“Yep. The cracked crown got popped off and the new temporary one got stuck on,” Lula said.

“And it was in the front?”

“Yep.”

“It’s gone.”

“Say what?” Lula felt around with her tongue. “What the heck!” She went to a makeup mirror and looked at herself. “Damn! I lost my temporary.”

“I bet it got stuck in that big pretzel you ate,” Potts said. “You probably swallowed it. So, you didn’t actually lose it. You just have to wait until you poop it out.”

“I can’t wait,” Lula said. “I’m unsightly. I got an image to protect. We’re going to have to delay the makeover until I get another crown stuck on. It won’t take long.”

Lula hustled out of the salon, and Potts turned to me. “Now what? We could go shopping without Lula. Or we could wait for Lula. Or we could go to the car and make out.”

“Not only will we never make out, but if you ever suggest it again, I’ll shoot you.”

“You don’t have a gun,” Potts said.

“Okay, then I’ll have someone else shoot you.”

“Just for suggesting we make out? That’s extreme.”

“You could punch him in the face,” the receptionist said. “That might be more appropriate.”

“I don’t like to bleed,” Potts said. “It gives me anxiety. I guess it would be okay if I got punched in the forehead.”

An alarm went off on his phone.

“What’s that?” the receptionist asked.

“It’s past lunchtime. I get low blood sugar if I don’t eat on schedule,” Potts said.

“There’s a food court in the mall,” I told him. “You can get something to eat there.”

“I can’t eat at a food court because of my allergies,” Potts said. “There’s all kinds of cross-contamination. I break out in hives and I get diarrhea if I walk through a food court. Did I tell you I’m extremely sensitive to gluten? And they let anyone work at those places. I know for a fact because I got a job at a chicken place in a mall once. Anyway, I only worked there for a couple days because of the diarrhea from the gluten spewing out of the fry station. And that was when I moved back to my parents’ house.”

“I know someone who would shoot him,” the receptionist said.

“I’ll get back to you,” I said to the receptionist.

I walked Potts out of the salon and through the mall to the Macy’s exit.

“I don’t see the Buick,” Potts said.

“I have a different car. It’s a loaner from a friend.”

“Is it the guy you sleep with? The good-looking one with muscles?”

“Yes.”

I unlocked the Honda.

“This is it? A Honda?” Potts asked. “It’s nice but I expected you to perform at Porsche level. Maybe Mercedes. Boy, this is an eye opener. Where are we going for lunch?”

“Giovichinni’s Grocery. You can get something from the deli, and we can eat at the office. I want to check in with Connie.”



* * *




I got Potts settled onto the faux leather couch with his chicken wrap and Pepsi, and I took the chair in front of Connie’s desk. I unwrapped my ham and cheese panini and opened a small tub of coleslaw.

“I like the hair,” Connie said.

I nodded. “Thanks. I’m getting used to it.”

“Lula called and told me she was back at the dentist.”

“Her temporary popped off.” I reached into my messenger bag, pulled out the body receipt for Trotter, and handed it to Connie.

“Vinnie’s going to love this,” Connie said. “This was a high bond.”

“I’m going to love it, too,” I said. “I need the money.”

Connie wrote a check and slid it across her desk to me. “What are you buying with this?”

“Food. Clothes. Maybe a manicure. My rent is due. Any more information from your mom?”

“The latest gossip is that the La-Z-Boys are having problems. Lou Salgusta has gone from a successful sadistic killer to flat-out crazy, and Charlie Shine has decided he’s Al Capone.”

“What about Benny?”

“Benny is never seen. He’s in his house, eating cheese ravioli and watching television with his cat. My mom said his wife was moved into a hospice facility yesterday. She’s been sick for a long time.”