Party Crashers

her feet might never be the same. She longed for a hot soak and a soft pillow and a positive balance in her savings account. She glanced around, expecting to see Roger LeMon lurking in the shadows, watching her. And God help her, she had hoped to catch another glimpse of Beck Underwood. She was sure the man would never work with her now, but she did want to thank him for being discreet, and try to offer some rationalization for her bizarre behavior...except she couldn't think of an explanation other than the truth. And she wasn't going to drag Beck into her drama, especially since he had an indirect connection to Roger LeMon through his sister Della.
    Jolie pulled herself out of her dismal thought loop and turned toward Hannah and Carlotta.
    "The bastard isn't here, is he?" Hannah turned her head for a quick sweep of the room.
    "I didn't see him," Carlotta assured her.
    "Who?" Jolie asked.
    "Her boyfriend Russell," Carlotta said.
    "Today I'd had it," Hannah said. "I found out where he was having lunch and confronted him while he was eating with his boss."
    Carlotta gasped. "You didn't."
    Hannah nodded emphatically, her knife-earrings jingling. "Sure did. If he thinks he can simply ignore me after all I've put up with, he's insane."
    Hearing the bitterness in the woman's voice, Jolie wondered briefly who, exactly, was the sane one. Hannah the Huntress was a tad intense.
    "What happened?" Carlotta asked.
    Hannah sighed. "He promised he was going to ask his wife for a divorce this weekend."
    Jolie choked on a scallop.
    Carlotta turned her head and muttered, "He's been promising to leave his wife for a year."
    "I heard that," Hannah declared. "Carlotta thinks I'm throwing my life away." She scoffed. "As if her life is going somewhere."
    Carlotta cocked her hip. "I'm not the one who spent my lunch hour accosting my married boyfriend."
    Hannah leaned in. "When was the last time you had a boyfriend?"
    "Stalker."
    "Prune."
    Jolie set down her drink. " Look at the time. I guess I'd better be going. I have to go in early tomorrow to help Michael with the Manolo Blahnik appearance."
    Carlotta looked disappointed. "Okay. Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow."
    Jolie hesitated, then said, "I was wondering...would the two of you like to go to a pajama party tomorrow night? My ex-boss is giving it, so it should be nice, but we'd have to crash." She had no legitimate reason to go other than it was something fun she could offer up to the girls. Plus she could get one over on Sammy, and the woman wouldn't even know it.
    Was that how Carlotta felt when she crashed upscale soirees? That it was enough for her to know?
    Jolie withdrew the mangled invitation from her purse and handed it to Carlotta, who read it and looked up. "Realtor Barbie is giving a bash?"
    Jolie nodded.
    "And we're not invited?"
    Jolie shook her head.
    Carlotta grinned. "Sounds like fun."
    "Can you reproduce the invitation?"
    "Are you kidding?" Carlotta tapped her finger on the card. "Without raised lettering this won't even be a challenge."
    Jolie felt a tiny stab of guilt over planning to crash a private party, but she remembered just a handful of the times that Sammy had dismissed her and the feeling passed. "Do you have plans, Hannah?"
    Hannah pursed her vampy mouth, then sighed. "No, I'll come."
    "Unless her boyfriend calls," Carlotta muttered.
    "I heard that."
    "I'll see you tomorrow," Jolie said before she could get caught in another round of crossfire.
    "Jolie," Carlotta said, "will you be okay walking to your car?"
    Hannah gave her a strange look. "Why wouldn't she be?"
    "She's worried about my feet in these shoes," Jolie said with a laugh. "Thanks, but I'll be fine. Good night. Oh, and...thanks."
    Carlotta gave her a secretive nod, then Jolie threaded her way back through the crowd. She kept an eye out for LeMon and other persons of interest, but saw neither. When she walked back through the reception entrance, the ticket taker was still manning his gate and gave her a friendly nod. She waved, once again having misgivings about manipulating their way into the party.
    But she did have more information to give Salyers when they talked—Jolie looked at her watch—tomorrow. She'd call the detective tomorrow. After the hoopla at the store, she'd have a few hours before the party. Enough time to put together that mailing to her former customers she'd been putting off. And to discuss a murder investigation concerning her boyfriend.
    As she retraced her steps back