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  “That doesn’t sound like you,” Maddie said, only half-joking. “You’d really take the coward’s way out? Where’s the challenge in that?”

  “The feminists would not be pleased,” echoed Jelicka.

  “I’m not a coward; I’m forty-two,” I said. “And I’m still a feminist. But I’m tired and no longer want or need the challenge. I’d like for things to be a little easier, and if I met a nice guy with money, it wouldn’t necessarily be bad, would it? I’m barely able to save any money, and if I lose my job, then what? Unemployment? I mean, I’m about ten paychecks away from becoming a bag lady like Jeannette Walls’s mother.”

  “That’s not going to happen,” Maddie said.

  “On NPR today,” I said, “they reported this study on Women, Money, and Power, and they said that half of American women over forty fear becoming bag ladies. Bag ladies—that’s the term they used. At least I’m not alone.”

  There was collective agreement amongst the three of us singletons and a look of—what was it, guilt?—on Lauren’s face.

  Despite wanting to make it on our own, have successful careers, build that nest egg, and be totally self-sufficient while at the same time finding worthy mates—at our age, the reality of just how hard that was to achieve had struck us all.

  At that moment, a strapping young actor type got a little too close to the table, bumping it and causing it to shake. “Sorry,” he said, turning up the wattage on his smile. “Ladies… ” He nodded, made a slight bow, and departed—all of us gazing longingly after him.

  “On the other hand,” I said, feeling wistful. “I wouldn’t mind dying next to that.”

  “Don’t misunderstand; it can work—that older rich guy thing,” Maddie said. “I mean, it doesn’t really seem like you, but it worked for Jelicka; for awhile.”

  “Until I was undone by a conniving, husband-stealing secretary nine years older than me!” Jelicka snapped.

  “I didn’t set out to marry a rich guy,” Lauren said with no prompting. “I just got lucky. And I really love George, you know? He’s just...big and loveable and—I feel so blessed.” She shook her head and started to tear up. She suddenly stood—the expression on her face suggesting she’d forgotten something. “I’m sorry, but I’m gonna have to get going.”

  Jelicka winked at Maddie and me. “Any idea what’s on her mind?”

  “Oh, it’s not like that,” she said, her face visibly flushed despite the low light. “I just remembered that Lourdes—she’s the kids’ nanny—she asked for the night off and, well, I should have been there already.”

  Lauren had what appeared to be a charmed life. She loved her family and was a happy, vital woman. And, now that she’d started her foundation aimed at curing one of society’s biggest medical problems, she’d become one of those people—like Vicki mentoring a foster kid—who was doing something that mattered. She was completely filled with love and purpose. I could hate her if I didn’t love her so much.

  I stood up and gave her a hug. “I’m sorry Paige couldn’t join us.”

  “She’s still swollen and doesn’t want to be seen in public.” She turned to Jelicka. “She did not have her eyes done, Jel. I’m going over to see her tomorrow.”

  Jelicka put her hands up, palms facing out. “It was only speculation.”

  “Thanks for coming and hearing my saga,” I said, and we all asked Lauren to give Paige our love.

  “Of course,” she said. “I hope I said something useful.”

  Just having her there helped, and everything she, Maddie, and Jelicka said would get worked over in my brain until I came up with a plan.

  “Go home to your adorable husband and children,” I said. “Thanks for coming.”

  “It’s going to work out. You’re going to figure out who’s trying to screw you, and one day you’ll find somebody to love. Believe it. I’m just so glad you broke it off with that married guy, once and for all, and that you’re moving on.”

  My focus drifted away, mostly out of fear of being exposed as a liar, and I caught a glimpse of a man in a trendy fedora on the other side of the bar. He seemed to be in his thirties or forties; it was hard to tell. But he looked familiar—like I’d seen him somewhere recently—but maybe he was just a guy in a hat.

  Lauren brought me back. “And when you do start dating, make sure that every time you go out with somebody, you tell one of us where you’re going to be!”

  “Right,” Jelicka said. “In case you go missing.”

  “That’s thinking positively,” said Maddie.

  Jelicka sat back in the banquette, considering. “She could have a chip put in. You know, like Udi. Then we’d be able to track her.”

  Maddie took a long, deep breath. It seemed to me that ever since she had let Jelicka persuade her to break into Udi’s friend’s house in pursuit of information about her missing lover, there had been a noticeable chilling in their friendship. The Muffs didn’t really “fight,” but from time to time we switched confidantes—like me talking to Vicki about dating. But we always found our way back to the group, eventually.

  “I’ll tell someone,” I said. “Promise.”

  “Okay.” Lauren pulled out her wallet, depositing too much money on the table, per usual. “I’ll be checking that you do. Hope all this helped, Quinny. By the way, what’s the book we’re supposed to be reading?”

  “I’m still deciding.” Truthfully, I hadn’t started.

  “Thank God. I’m so worried about getting Alzheimer’s myself, I thought you might have told us last night and I forgot. The disease is hereditary, you know, and with my mom and everything, you can imagine I’m on constant guard.”

  “Nnn… ” Jelicka shook her head. “They don’t know. They also think it could be something in the water, or maybe fluoride in the toothpaste.” Leave it to Jelicka to know the conspiracy theories on the causes of Alzheimer’s disease.

  “Really?” said Lauren.

  “No, they don’t,” Maddie said firmly, effectively shutting down the topic.

  “I’m telling you, they don’t really know.”

  “Anyway,” Lauren continued, “you know how long it takes me to read. I need maximum time, especially now with the benefit coming up. ”

  “We all need maximum time,” Jelicka said, as both she and Maddie rose to say their goodbyes. “You know how we get distracted.”

  Did I ever. “Next week, latest,” I promised.

  “I’ll call you,” said Lauren, backing away. “About Viggo and my idea for catching the person who sent the pictures. I just have to run it by George.”

  After she’d gone, we sat down and Jelicka clunked down her drink. “I know we’re supposed to be focusing on Quinn’s job prospects, but can we, just for a second, talk about why she might be fired? I mean, I know most of the Muffs think I’m always looking for hidden meanings and motives, but the thing is, they’re usually there. And don’t you think it’s odd that somebody would send an email to Quinn’s boss with pictures that made her look like a crazed psychopathic shoe-wielder? Think about it. Something’s not right about that.”

  “I have to agree with you there,” said Maddie. “And by the way, Jel, apropos another of your many conspiracy theories—namely Udi not being dead. Agreeing with you in no way suggests I agree with any of your other conspiracy theories, or that I will act upon anything you might say. Do you understand?”

  Maddie seemed worked up, all of a sudden, like she’d rehearsed this in her head. I gave Jelicka a nudge under the table in an attempt to keep her from talking.

  “I liked Udi a lot,” Maddie said. “If I were a teenager, I’d probably even say I loved him, but he died, you guys. I felt him die on top of me. He’s gone.”

  I put my hand on her arm. “I’m sorry, Maddie. I didn’t mean to dredge the whole thing up again when I called you from Tokyo.”

  “I know.” She smiled. “I know you didn’t.”

  “All right, let’s move on,” said Jelicka, starting to appear more s
ober. “Udi is in a better place now. And you have your new Scottish guy, the hurler.” She threw me a look that told me none of this was close to being over.

  Maddie took a sip of her drink. “Now, getting back to the pictures—any ideas about who could have sent them?”

  “Jamie’s new assistant is the prime suspect,” I said. “I can’t think who else has a motive.”

  “Why do you think it’s the assistant?” asked Maddie.

  “Because she and Jamie are sleeping together.”

  “Ahhh…” Madelyn nodded knowingly. “So she’s possibly trying to capitalize on her relationship with the boss and get a bump up at work?”

  “Exactly.”

  Jelicka looked confused. “Your boss is gay? I didn’t know that.”

  I shrugged. “It’s not a secret. And it’s not exactly shocking these days anyway. I mean look at Rachel.”

  “Rachel’s not gay; she’s just pissed at men so she experiments.”

  Even as Maddie said it, I got the idea that Titania might also be an “experimenter.”

  “Okay, so it sounds like the assistant is angling for your job,” said Madelyn.

  “Poison could work,” Jelicka said, appearing all too serious. “I’m kidding.”

  “What’s sort of weird,” I said, “is sure, the assistant is a suck-up, and she totally rubs most of us on the floor the wrong way. But even if she’s the one who’s trying to make me look bad, she’s not going to get my job if I’m fired; she doesn’t have the experience.”

  Maddie and Jelicka were either deep in thought, or I’d lost them completely. But I pressed on. “The thing is, the agency is downsizing, and it could be that having a reason to fire me—even if it’s a sort of trumped up reason—helps Jamie’s bottom line. So, in a way, it still gets the girl points, even if she doesn’t get my job.”

  “Don’t you make the agency a lot of money in commissions?”

  “That’s another thing; I do. Though they’d probably say that all I’m doing is booking their talent and that a trained monkey could do it. Not true, by the way. And the last thing is, if Titania was the one who sent the photos, and doing that leads to my ouster, she would get credit for my demise. Even if she didn’t get my job, she’d move up the ladder faster. They’d just spread pieces of my job to the remaining agents.”

  Another pause with the two of them staring at me blankly. “Makes a sort of sense,” Madelyn said. “Do you think it could be one of the other agents who’s competitive with you?”

  “Possibly,” I said. “But I doubt it. Titania is still the most likely perpetrator.”

  Jelicka smirked. “Titania? Really—that’s her name?” She sat up a bit taller, assuming the countenance of her version of an enraged monarch. “ ‘What, jealous Oberon! Fairy, skip hence. I have forsworn his bed and company.’ ” Jelicka was transformed into another Titania—this one the Faerie Queen from A Midsummer Night’s Dream. She reminded me of Jennifer Lopez.

  “If I were you, Jel, I wouldn’t make fun of unusual names,” Madelyn said gently.

  Jelicka considered this. “Actually, it’s precisely because I have an unusual name that I am uniquely qualified to—” She pushed her drink away. “Even I recognize how stupid that sounded.”

  “What I haven’t been able to figure out,” I said, “is who took the pictures? Even if it was Titania who sent them, who did she get them from?”

  “That is freaky,” said Jelicka. “Do you remember seeing anyone at the airport who looked out of place? I mean, other than Udi? God damn it. Sorry, Maddie.”

  No one came to mind. I shook my head.

  “Maybe if you snoop around her desk, you’d find something to get her back with,” Jelicka suggested.

  I considered this. “I like that. I just can’t get caught in the act.”

  “Obviously,” she said.

  “Legally, I’m not sure what you can do,” said Maddie. “Corporate sabotage was never my field of expertise. You need to get proof that there was some sort of malicious intent, I think. However, the fact remains, there are photographs out there showing you in an unflattering light, and they’re real. On the other hand, what you have going for you is you are not a public figure and so even though you handle public figures, you are not one yourself and shouldn’t be put in that category. I don’t think Talent Partners can legitimately claim your behavior has damaged them.”

  “Could your boss have arranged for the photos to be sent?” Jelicka asked. “For one of the reasons you mentioned?”

  “Jamie?” I hadn’t thought about that. “I guess it’s possible.” But I didn’t really think so. And there was something about the way Titania had been acting today at work. Usually she was both aloof and smug, but today she was being way too nice to me. Something was up.

  “Well,” said Jelicka. “I have to say, you’re right not to let her know you suspect anything until you get proof. But what I really think—between what happened with Udi, threats from the deranged office staff, and the minefield of Internet dating—is that we’ve reached that time again.”

  “What time is that?” Maddie asked with trepidation.

  “Any guesses?” Jelicka tried once more to raise her eyebrows.

  “Koreatown massages?” I actually knew full well what Jelicka was about to say.

  “I shudder to think” Maddie winced.

  “It’s time the Muffs paid another visit to Shooters Paradise,” Jelicka beamed. In her element, she now appeared to be completely sober.

  “Of course it is,” said Maddie. “Silly me not to get it.”

  Though hardly a zealous advocate for the NRA, Jelicka was still The Muffia’s link to gun culture. Don’t get me wrong, she believed in making it tougher to buy a gun; but she already had hers. In any event, she was always on the lookout for the opportunity to share her gun and her knowledge with us. She thought she was simply being realistic.

  After six weeks spent in Israel in her late teens, Jelicka had come to the conclusion that everyone should know how to shoot so as to protect oneself against threats both known and unknown. She would launch into her gun spiel upon hearing any word that might possibly be interpreted as militaristic. Words like rifle (as in search), shoot (a film or syringe), kill (as in perform brilliantly) and aim (have a goal) were the trigger to get her fired up. Most of the Muffs were amused and left it at that. But both Maddie and I had taken her up on previous offers to teach us how to hold and shoot a gun. And now we both felt reasonably equipped to handle one.

  “I’m in,” I said. With this latest threat to my livelihood, I don’t fear for my life—I just wanted to get through the next couple of weeks. Almost any distraction was welcome, which is why I doubled down on acquiring them.

  CHAPTER 9

  The next morning, I slipped into the office an hour earlier than usual, planning to go through Titania’s desk in search of anything that would prove she was complicit in the attempts to take me down.

  To my knowledge, Talent Partners had not yet put cameras on every floor, but only at the elevators to track comings and goings of angry producers, divorcing actors, and any errant agents, messengers, and delivery people—just in case one of them went “off” one day. So I felt reasonably certain that the minutia of what I planned on doing would go unrecorded. There’s just not a lot of suspicious activity that occurs on the floor of a talent agency.

  As I stepped off the elevator, averting my eyes from the lens of the camera, my cellphone rang, giving me the perfect opportunity to appear nonchalant and otherwise engaged. Pulling out the phone, I saw Steven’s name. Since our last rendezvous, we’d had two very short conversations, the second of which occurred last night while I was driving home from Firefly, during which I informed him, in no uncertain terms, that this time I was serious—I was breaking it off. But here it was, early the next day, and he just had to make sure.

  It was my fault. We’d been here before, and I’d always been too weak to hold my ground for long. But this time, I thought
I’d made it clear that I was turning over a new leaf, wiping the slate, cleaning my clock, frying a different fish—however you wanted to say it. I was determined this time not to let myself be drawn in. I hit “ignore,” imagine someone like Chief Justice Sotomayor patting me on the back, deposit the phone into my bag, and keep walking.

  Using my passkey, I opened the back outer door to the office floor and strode through the carpeted corridor off the break room—which all the agents, subagents, and assistants share—and from there, moved into the main workspace. Most days, when everyone was busy, we were so close we could overhear parts of each other’s conversations, which was what usually discouraged gossip. This was probably why management only put those who’d been with the company a long time—the people who are, in essence, partners—into private offices with a door to close; like Jamie.

  Titania’s desk was the closest to Jamie’s office, whereas mine, inside my cubiffice, was against an interior opposite wall, positioned nearest Sameer. I figured if someone came onto the floor and saw me near Titania’s desk, it wouldn’t look completely wrong for me to be there. After all, Titania is Jamie’s assistant, and Jamie is my boss. So it was within the realm of possibility for Titania to have something on her desk relating to my work—even if I were the one to put it there. Anyway, that’s the story I had ready if someone did come in.

  The assistants at Talent Partners all have the same type of desk—the partners insisting on uniformity. They’re birch with tasteful chrome details and, on the non-working side of the desk, each is finished with a clean shelf about eighteen inches higher than the desk surface, which means you would only know if someone were working at one if you got close enough.

  On the working side of the desk, there are numerous slats, slots, and compartments under the shelf, and all those compartments are filled with things the partners don’t want to see when they walk through the floor—papers, pen holders, tchotchkes—hence the design.

  Titania’s desk was no different, though her stuff was arranged more neatly than some of the other assistants’. Amongst all that “stuff,” I was hoping to find a clue to her guilt.