"Buying the tropics, are you?"

"It is is getting a little out of hand," she admitted. getting a little out of hand," she admitted.

"Uh-huh. So Solberg's leaving soon?" I tried not to sound jubilant at the idea, but I'm not much of an actress. There had been a time I could have said the same of Laney. But no more. She was now the darling of Hollywood and would start filming her first motion picture soon. But that wasn't entirely due to her thespian skills. She was built like a fairy-dusted G.o.ddess and smart as a firecracker. Not to mention she was the most adorable person on the planet.

"Sorry I can't stay for dinner," Solberg said, walking into the kitchen. "But I've got stuff to do."

Despite my better judgment, I glanced up at his mysterious tone. "What stuff?"

His lips jerked as his colitis acted up. "Stuff I can't talk about when Angel's here."

Which meant I would never know, because I wouldn't be caught dead alone with him. I'd made that mistake before. In fact, I had dated him once. But that was before he'd caught his first glimpse of Brainy Laney. As far as I know his jaw hasn't been located since.

"He's buying my wedding gift," Laney said.

"I didn't know there were still continents for sale," I said. Solberg was just a little bit richer than G.o.d, which, oddly enough, had absolutely nothing to do with why Laney was marrying him. It was anybody's guess what her mind-boggling reasons might be. But I suspect they might have had something to do with eye of newt and possible necromancy. Voodoo is still alive and well in the greater Los Angeles area.

"I'm not buying buying your gift," Solberg said. your gift," Solberg said.

Laney and I looked at each other. She shrugged. He grinned.

"I gotta go," he said.

I turned away as he kissed Laney's cheek. Why spoil my appet.i.te now?

The door closed behind him.

"You really don't know what he's getting you?" I asked.

"Not a clue," she said, and reached up to fetch the gla.s.ses from the top shelf. She was wearing green canvas shorts she had gotten from Goodwill in junior high. There was not a molecule of cellulite on her thighs. The sight made me want to eat until I was catatonic.

I opened the carton of lo mein. It was as pretty as a picture. "What did he mean by he's not buying buying it?" it?"

"Maybe he's making me something."

I fished out a noodle and tasted it. Asian ambrosia. "Or renting you a slave."

"Can you do that?"

I shrugged one shoulder. The other was on sabbatical. "I'd rent myself out for the right price."

"I'm going to have to think about that. Tell me about last night," she said, and sat down at the table.

I did the same, then scowled as I dished up the lo mein and pa.s.sed it to her.

She only took some lo.

"A client called," I said, beginning slow.

"Here?"

I nodded and tasted the sauce. It made chocolate pale by comparison. I swear to you, I wasn't drunk.

"How'd he get this number? You didn't give him your home phone, did you?" she asked, and taste-tested an onion as I slurped down a skein of noodles.

"I'm not brain-dead."

"I was wondering but I thought it would be rude to ask," she said. "What did he want?"

I gave her a look, but the meal was singing its siren song, pulling my attention away. "He wanted me to take his son."

She raised one brow. "Take his son or have have his son?" his son?"

"Take him. Which seemed like enough of a commitment." him. Which seemed like enough of a commitment."

"He must be pretty good-looking if you'd even consider the possibility of procreating."

"Think Don Cheadle face, Matthew McConaughey body."

"Wow," she said, then, "Did I tell you I might be doing a movie with McConaughey?"

The fork dropped from my hand as the image of McConaughey jumped into my psyche. And voila ... suddenly I remembered what was better than chocolate. We'd been McConaughey fans ever since he'd played David Wooderson in Dazed and Confused Dazed and Confused. In fact, Laney and I had spent an inordinate amount of time sitting in the dark watching everything from bad sitcoms to award-winning feature films. It had eventually made her a star. It had only made me pale.

"A movie with Matthew McConaughey! Are you serious?" I asked.

"No," she said, and stabbed a mushroom. "I just wanted to see your reaction. So when did Micky call?"

"I didn't say ... what makes you think it was Micky?" I asked.

She didn't answer immediately. She was busy masticating. A sesame seed can take her half an hour. It could be morning before she finished up with the mushroom.

"How do you even know know Micky?" I asked. Micky?" I asked.

"When did he call?"

"Maybe it wasn't wasn't Micky," I said, and she laughed. Micky," I said, and she laughed.

"You've got fourteen black clients. Three of them are under the child-bearing age. One is a grandfather, and nine are women. I don't know a lot of women with McConaughey's pecs."

"You've been talking to Shirley."

"Someone's got to keep you from getting yourself killed. And seriously, Mac, I don't think it's ever going to be you. What were you thinking, galloping out there at midnight?"

Galloping? "Have you been talking to Rivera, too?"

"Should I?"

"No!"

She grinned. "Then tell me what's going on."

I succ.u.mbed. Not that I wouldn't have anyway. But the idea of her and Rivera comparing notes made it easier to capitulate. Of course I swore her to secrecy first.

Fifteen minutes later I had consumed enough noodles to feed Cambodia. Laney's meal could have fit in my molar.

"So you think this Jackson guy was high?"

"I think so. He had just been shot and he acted as if he was floating on cloud nine. Crooning about rosewood and retribution."

"Retribution."

"It sounds better than revenge, doesn't it?"

"No."

"It's all so sad," I said, and sighed. "From what Micky's said in the past he's got everything-brains, education, money. He looks like a forty-year-old Jimmy Trivette."

"From Walker, Texas Ranger?" Walker, Texas Ranger?"

"Yeah."

"You have a Texas Ranger swearing revenge?"

"I have a nutcase nutcase seeking seeking retribution." retribution."

"Why don't I feel better?" I shrugged.

"I think you're a natural pessimist."

She gave me a look. "What makes him a nutcase?"

"According to Micky, it's mostly stuff he's done to past girlfriends."

"Physical stuff?"

"That, too," I said, sc.r.a.ping the last bit of sauce from my plate. "But probably more emotional. Psychological. Micky's been checking into Jackson's past. There's a girl named Becca. Says he'd make her call him 'Sir' and cook his meals in the nude."

"That's unusual?"

I jerked my gaze to her. Her expression was absolutely serious, but her eyes were too bright.

"You're so not funny," I said.

She laughed, apparently disagreeing. "So Micky's grandmother didn't know about Jamel?"

"I don't think so. As of Micky's last appointment he hadn't told her yet. He'd just gotten the test results back and needed some time to think things through."

"So how did she know to show up at Jackson's house?"

I shrugged and fished the last noodle out of the box. I needed it about as much as a bullet to the brainpan. "Micky said she can be spooky. Maybe she uses the same voodoo witch you do."

"Shirley? Would Shirley have told her?"

The noodle drooped from my fingers mere millimeters from my gaping maw. "She wouldn't."

"Why not?"

"Because she's my receptionist. It's her job to keep things confidential."

"What's your your job?" job?"

"You blackmailed me into divulging all that information about Jackson."

She didn't comment on her threat to contact Rivera. "I guess it would have been worse if no one showed up for Jamel."

"I was there."

"And what would you have done with him?"

I shrugged. One of my past boyfriends had told me I had the maternal instincts of a snail. "I would have worked something out."

"You and Francois?"

"Francois happens to be a very sensitive guy."

She didn't respond to that other than to roll her eyes. Maybe because Francois runs on batteries and lives in a drawer beside my bed. Laney rose to her feet and started clearing dishes.

"I take it Rivera wasn't happy about the situation, either."

I watched her work. "The Francois situation or the Micky situation?"

"He knows about Francois?"

"Probably not."

"Probably?"

"I don't even know how you you know." know."

She grinned as she put the dishes in the sink. "What was the good lieutenant's major concern regarding the Micky situation?"

"Probably that he couldn't tell me what to do."

She turned, putting her ridiculously well-toned derriere against the counter. "Have you considered that maybe he worries about you?"

"I'm a big girl."

"Mac, a guy was shot. A woman was stoned. Not to mention armed. And Micky's been accused of rape on more than one occasion. Maybe he's not as innocent as he seems."