Got Your Number

five-thirty."
    "Maybe later."
    Make them suffer a little longer. She couldn't blame her. "Do you want to spend the night here? Dad's at a fishing tournament, so we'll have the place to ourselves."
    "I don't have anyplace else to go." She had regressed to a little-girl voice.
    Roxann sat back on her heels. "You'll have to face them sometime. Besides, this situation wasn't your fault."
    "Yes, it was—I should've stood up to Mother when she wanted to invite that woman to my wedding."
    Blame everyone but the guilty. "And what would've happened two months from now when Trenton ran into his old girlfriend at the airport?"
    "He wouldn't have," she said miserably. "We were moving to Chicago."
    "Really?"
    "I was going to be an art agent for a big important firm." She knuckled away a tear. "Now that's all down the drain."
    Roxann frowned. "Why?"
    "Well, because now I'm not moving."
    "Why not? Go without the goon."
    Her laugh was rueful. "Mother and Father would never allow me to move there alone."
    "So don't ask them."
    Roxann knew that look—Angora had always struggled with her desire for independence versus the burden of being cut off from the goodies. Suddenly she brightened. "Maybe I can live with you."
    "Uh...I don't think that's such a good idea. You'd better get out of the water before you wither away. Besides, it's my turn."
    Angora nodded and sat up. "I could really use that tea."
    Roxann shook her head as she rummaged for the least threadbare towel under the tiny vanity. "Sorry, I couldn't find any tea. But help yourself to anything in the fridge that isn't rancid. If you're hungry, we could go out and get some dinner. Or I could order a pizza."
    Angora's eyes lit up for just a second, then she patted her stomach. "I'd better not—I'm on a diet."
    "What kind of diet?" she asked suspiciously, remembering the harebrained gimmicks Angora had used to lose weight when they roomed together.
    "It's a food-combination plan."
    "What foods?"
    "Um...popcorn and carrots."
    "Popcorn and carrots? Is that why your skin is the color of a pumpkin?"
    "I think it looks nice."
    "Christ, Angora, you're orange ."
    She snatched the towel. "Could I please just have those clothes you promised?"
    Roxann frowned, then went into the bedroom and unzipped the duffel bag. She fished around, wishing she'd taken more care when she'd packed her bag. The nicest thing she had to offer Angora was a pair of faded jeans and a tie-dyed T-shirt.
    "You're kidding, right?" Angora asked, looking over her shoulder.
    "Sorry, I sort of packed in a hurry."
    She held up the T-shirt. "Good grief, when was the last time you went shopping?"
    "For clothes?" Roxann pulled at the hem of her orange pullover self-consciously.
    Angora sighed. "That's a horrible color for you."
    She smirked. "Maybe I'll start eating carrots."
    Angora picked up the bottle of pepper spray. "Is this what all the well-dressed women in Biloxi are wearing?"
    Roxann grabbed the pepper spray before Angora could spray herself, "Just a precaution."
    Her cousin sighed. "I'll never be able to get my butt into those jeans—don't you have anything stretchy?"
    "Just these." Roxann held up a pair of red thong underwear.
    "Now I know you're kidding."
    Remembering Angora's penchant for girdle granny panties, Roxann grinned. "They're not so bad once you get used to them." She left Angora studying the underwear, then ran her own bath. She stripped, indulged in a few seconds of envy over Angora's curves next to her own boyish figure, then slid into the water up to her shoulders. A groan escaped her as the warm water caressed her calves, still tender from yesterday's run. Unbidden, Capistrano's face popped into her mind, his expression mocking as he perused her ugly shoes. Maybe she should have called him yesterday to report the break-in. Maybe he would have—
    She scoffed. Maybe he would have helped her? Help her what? She couldn't be sure that Frank Cape was looking for her. Besides, Detective Capistrano struck her as the kind of guy who would expect something in return—like the whereabouts of Melissa Cape.
    No, the more she thought about it, the more she suspected that Elise had been behind the trashing of her place and leaving the bizarre message. Elise was a computer buff, and had spent hours on Roxann's desktop, mostly surfing chat rooms. Which is where, Roxann believed, Elise had gotten the idea that her repeated failed relationships with men meant that she was gay. But if that was the case, Roxann