Ladies' Night, Andrews, Kay [best time to read books .txt] 📗

“Yeah. I mean, no,” Bo said, yawning widely. “I thought you were at Aunt Kendra’s house.”

Callie made a face. “Your Aunt Kendra is a big doo-doo head,” she said, laughing as though it were all a joke. “So I came over here to see what you and your dad were up to.”

“Are you gonna spend the night?” He shot his father a hopeful look. “Please, Dad? Mom can have my bed. I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

“Absolutely not!” Callie said. “If anybody gets to sleep on the sofa, it’s me.” She tousled her son’s hair and looked defiantly at Wyatt. “Right, Dad?”

Bo’s eyes were pleading. “Okay?”

Wyatt knew when he’d been beaten. “Fine,” he said brusquely. “Come on, Bo,” he said, holding out his hand for his son. “You’re going to bed. I’ll get your mom a pillow and a blanket. But this is just for tonight. Tomorrow, she’s going to find a new place to live.” He glared at his wife. “Right, Mom?”

Callie smiled weakly. “Right.”

58

Grace pulled alongside Camryn’s car in the Publix shopping center Saturday morning. She hopped into Camryn’s car, and moments later the two of them were heading west toward Gulf Vista.

“Nice car,” Grace said. She wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans and lightly stroked the Jaguar’s sleek leather upholstery.

“It was an anniversary gift from Dexter,” Camryn said. “The man does love to buy nice things. Of course, mostly it’s to show all his friends how much money he makes and what a big man he is.”

“Are you sure your friend is okay with doing this?” Grace asked as they approached the Gulf Vista security gate. “She’s not worried Ben might find out?”

“Marissa?” Camryn laughed. “She and LaDarion think your ex is a stuck-up prick. I guess Ben sicced the homeowner’s association on them because of Peaches’s barking.”

“Ben hated that dog,” Grace said. “It barked a lot. Like, if anybody walked by their house. Or if it was home alone. Which it was, a lot. Plus, your friend and her husband did throw some pretty wild parties. Last year they hired MC Hammer to play at their Fourth of July barbecue. Do you know how many times we heard “Can’t Touch This?” Over and over and over…”

“MC Hammer?” Camryn snickered. “Seriously? I did not even know that dude was still alive. How did he survive the nineties?”

“I don’t know, but I can assure you, he did,” Grace said.

There were three cars ahead of them at the visitor’s gate to the subdivision. Grace’s pulse skipped wildly as they pulled beneath the security shack’s portico. “Here goes,” Camryn said, under her breath. Grace pulled on a pair of oversized sunglasses.

The Jaguar’s driver’s-side window rolled down, and the uniformed security guard stepped forward. Grace sucked in her breath and looked away. It was Sheldon, the same guard who’d turned her away the last time she’d attempted to breach the gate at Gulf Vista.

“Morning, ma’am,” Sheldon said, leaning in to look at the Jaguar’s occupants.

“Good morning,” Camryn said. “We’re guests of Marissa and LaDarion Banks?”

Sheldon scanned a sheet of paper on his clipboard, running his finger down the lines of type.

“Ms. Nobles?” he asked, peering into the car’s interior. Grace held her breath.

“That’s correct,” Camryn said.

The guard handed her a guest pass. “Leave that on your dashboard, if you would please, ma’am,” he said, and waved her through.

*   *   *

“Nice digs,” Camryn said admiringly, as they rolled slowly past the house on Sand Dollar Lane. “What did this place set you back, a million, million and a half?”

“I’m not sure,” Grace admitted. “Ben handled all that. This was one of the model homes. He cut a deal with the developer, and then cut more deals with the contractors who put in the landscaping and the pool and the media room. A lot of the extras, we got at cost, or less, in return for advertising and editorial mention on Gracenotes.”

“And you walked away from all that.”

“‘Ran away’ would be a more accurate way to describe my departure,” Grace said.

“And now you’re living above a bar on Cortez,” Camryn said. “Girlfriend, that is a big change, and I’m not just talking about zip codes.”

“Want to know something?” Grace gestured out the window, at the velvety green lawns and lush beds of blooming tropical flowers and palm trees, behind which loomed glimpses of red barrel-tile roofs and white stucco homes. “None of this seems real to me. I lived in this neighborhood for two years. I went to parties, gave parties here, but I haven’t heard from a single person since the night I put Ben’s car in the pool.”

“Mm-hmm,” Camryn said. “You broke the rules. Acted ugly, made a mess. Got the law involved.” She flipped up her own sunglasses, and grinned. “Welcome to the real world, Grace Davenport.”

She turned the corner and pulled into the driveway of a house that dwarfed all the other houses in the subdivision. A wrought-iron gate with curlicued flourishes identified the mansion as Villa Marissa. Camryn opened her window, leaned out, and looked up at the small security camera mounted on the stucco gatepost. “Marissa? It’s Camryn. Open sesame!”

The gates swung open noiselessly, and they followed the driveway around to the front of the mansion, an enormous, vaguely Tuscan villa, where a petite woman with long jet-black hair and a complexion the shade of caffe latte waited in a gleaming black golf cart.

“Ladies!” Marissa Banks beamed. She was dressed in a sleeveless hot-pink Nike tank top and matching pink golf shorts, along with pink and white golf cleats. She clapped her hands excitedly. “Welcome to my house.”

“Marissa, this is my friend Grace, but I think you’ve probably already met, right?”

Grace reached out and shook the other woman’s hand. “Thanks so much for doing this. You’re really sure you want to get involved in my drama?”

“Of course,” Marissa said. “You can only get your nails and hair done so many times in one week. I’m dying of boredom. This is going to be