As for me, I had a weekly cleaning service, the regular housekeeper for daily stuff, a lawn service, a pool guy, and some hired drivers for special occasions.
Come to think of it, who was I to judge? If Brittney's mom wanted a dozen housekeepers to feed her grapes, why the hell should I care?
"She's a busy woman," Brittney was saying. "And she entertainsa lot. Politicians and stuff." She smiled. "She's a bank president, you know."
I was barely listening. "No kidding."
Brittney made a sound of annoyance. "What's with the microwave?"
I gave it a glance. It looked the same as always. I turned to Brittney. "Nothing. Why?"
"Because you keep staring at it." She gave it another look. "Is something in there?"
"No." I grabbed the platter of steaks. "I'm gonna throw these on the grill."
Amber spoke up. "You want some company?"
From somewhere outside, I heard the low rumble of thunder. "Only if you don't mind getting wet."
Brittney leaned forward and gave me a sly smile. "What if I'malreadywet?" She turned to Amber. "How aboutyou? Areyouwet?"
Amber glanced down at her dress. "I don't think so. But my umbrella's pretty big, so…"
Brittney rolled her eyes. "Forget the umbrella. Seriously."
I glanced toward Amber's umbrella. It was sitting, still open, in the hall just outside the kitchen. It was huge and neon pink with black ruffles. If only Icouldforget it.
Amber was staring at it, too. "Forget it? Why?" She turned to Brittney. "Because it doesn't match your purse?"
Brittney's mouth tightened. "In case you didn't notice, my purse is a Louis Vuitton." She threw back her shoulders. "It goes with everything."
Amber eyed the purse, which was sitting on a side-table near to the umbrella. "A Louis Vuitton?" She cocked her head. "Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm sure," Brittney said.
Amber shook her head. "Not withthatpattern. It's not even centered." She lowered her voice. "You didn't buy it off the street, did you?"
"No," Brittney said through gritted teeth. "I didn't buy it off the street."
"Honestly," Amber said, "I don't think it's real." She winced. "Sorry."
Brittney's gaze slid to me.
I was still holding the steaks. I shrugged. I didn't give a rat's ass whether the purse was real or not.
Brittney tossed a strand of long blonde hair over her shoulder. "Forget the purse." She looked down at the steaks. "Those look yummy."
Yummy?
Brittney made a show of licking her lips. "I justlovemeat. The bigger the better."
Again, I glanced at the microwave. The thing was pretty sophisticated. Maybe itdidhave a steak setting.
Brittney's voice cut into my thoughts. "Oh, you go on." She made a little shooing motion with her hands. "Grill. Do your man-thing. We'll pour the wine and wait." She looked toward Amber and said, "Right?"
Amber nodded. "Right." She turned to me. "You want the umbrella? I'll hold it if you want."
I didn't want the umbrella. Or the company. I was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, and I sure as hell didn't care if my hair got wet. Waving off Amber's offer, I strode out the patio door before either of them could follow.