"Oh, don't even lie!" I said. "My upstairs carpet is blue. Blue! blue. Blue!"

She laughed a little and I smiled, feeling better. "You're getting married soon," I said. "For better or worse. Swans or no swans."

She nodded, then winced a little. "But what about you?"

I looked at her askance. "What about me what?"

"We've been a pair for so long. And I always thought you'd get married first."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. I mean, I thought you'd find the right guy and live happily ever after so I wouldn't have to worry about you."

"Happily ever-"

"Well, you know, grouchily ever after, or whatever. I just thought you'd be ... settled."

"Settled."

"And now not only are you unsettled, you've got some nut job breaking into your cute little house."

I glanced around. "It is kind of cute, isn't it? When you can see the floor. Blue," I mused.

"Get over it."

I shook my head. "Are you saying you're worried about me?"

"Of course I'm worried about you." Tears welled in her eyes again. "You're the best person I know."

I stared at her an instant, then glanced over my shoulder before turning back to her. "Me?"

"You know it's true."

"Are you drunk?"

"No. I ... Oh c.r.a.p," she said, and rubbed her eyes with her right hand. It was the harshest language I had heard exit Laney's mouth in years. "And now I can't even tell when you're kidding."

"You're just tired. Lots of people don't think I'm funny when they're tired."

"Or any other time.

"I've hired you a bodyguard."

It took a moment for me to realize what she said, at which time I canted my head and asked for clarification.

"I can't stand knowing you're in danger, Mac. I can't. I mean, I have a thousand things going on in my head and I can't-"

"You hired a bodyguard?"

She took a deep, calming breath. "Yes."

"For me."

"Yes."

"When you're the star."

"I'm not a star, Mac. I'm just a ... Just a woman on my fourteenth minute of fame."

"Laney, you're one in a million. You've been a star since the day you were born. Since the second you were conceived. Since-"

"Please accept a bodyguard."

I stood there staring at her, mouth open. "I had s.e.x for the first time in years," I said.

"I realize-"

I held up my hand. "In fact, I had s.e.x for the first, second, third, fourth, and fifth time in years. You think I want that to stop now?"

"He doesn't have to accompany you into the bedroom."

"Did I say we did it in the bedroom?"

She stared at me for a minute, then, "Ick?" she said.

"I hope you used some heavy-duty cleaner on the kitchen counter."

"Baking soda," she said. "It's environmentally friendly."

"You might want to dine in your room from now on, then," I said, and she laughed. I squeezed her hand. "I don't want a bodyguard, Laney."

"I ordered a really cute one."

"Is that the word you used when you called the agency?"

"Yes. I said I wanted a cute buff one."

"Seriously?"

"I really am losing my mind, aren't I?"

"It's possible."

She blew out her breath. "That's unfortunate. I'm kind of famous, you know."

"So I've heard."

She sighed. "What are we going to do?"

I stared at her. "We're going to figure out who broke into my cute little house."

"Any ideas how?"

"We're going to use our brains."

"Wow," she said.

29.

Love your enemies. In case your friends turn out to be dumb s.h.i.ts.-Donald Archer, whose friends are kind of...

We went through every piece of mail she had, evaluated every word, considered every comma. By four in the morning I felt as if my eyes had been sandblasted and my mind fried in extra-virgin olive oil.

I flopped back onto Laney's bed and covered my face with my hand. "I hate people. I literally cannot tell you how much I hate people."

"How quickly the bliss of s.e.x fades."

"Not like chocolate," I said.

"That stuff'll stay on your hips forever. Unless you drink enough of my Cellulite Chaser."

"Oh, dear G.o.d," I said, and covered my head with a pillow. "Please, please, please don't make me think about your all-natural, made-from-clay-and-nothing-else recipes that ..." I paused, removed the pillow, stared at her.

"What?" Her expression had gone serious, expectant.

"The letters ..." I picked up the first one, skimmed it rapidly. "'Natural,'" I said and retrieved the next. "'G.o.d given.'" The next. "'Earthy. True.'"

"He's not religious," she said, glancing down at the nearest missive. "He's a naturalist."

"And now your Green Goo recipe has disappeared."

She was frowning.

"Who knew about it?"

"No one," she said. "Foxy swore me to secrecy when she gave it to me years ago."

"So only your hairdresser knows."

"Not Nadine," she said. "She's producing her own products. Hopes to start a natural-" Her words stumbled to a halt.

After my meeting with Morab the s.e.x slave, and Senator Rivera the s.e.x addict addict, I had almost forgotten that I'd met Nadine. "Has she asked for your recipe?"

"Not outright."

"But you think she'd like to?"

Laney looked unhappy. "She's a good person. Started the condors program."

"Which you've donated to," I guessed.

She shrugged, noncommittal. "But I still get the idea she thinks I should ..." Her words trailed off again. "I mean, I thought we were friends."

The room went silent.

"Is it her?" I asked into the quiet.

She said nothing for several seconds, then glanced away. "Maybe."

I took a deep breath, feeling down to my soul that we'd found our culprit. "This isn't something you should feel guilty about," I said.

"I know," she said.

"But you do."

"It's just that I've ..." She paused and shrugged.

"Been so lucky."

"Blessed, really."

"It's not your fault that Nadine didn't make it big."

She stared at nothing, seeming to search for some way to believe she was wrong. But finally she closed her eyes and gave up. "What do we do now?"

"I suppose we should ask the police to question her," I said. "Or I could-"

She jerked toward me. "You're going to stay out of this, Mac."

"I know. I was just wondering who to call. I don't know whose jurisdiction it would be. It might turn into a p.i.s.sing contest."

"p.i.s.sing contest or not, this is their job. Not yours."

"I know."

She stared at me a moment, then nodded. "Maybe we call Rivera and let him figure it out."

"At four in the morning?"

"Probably not."

"First thing when I wake up."