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where you find thesepeople.”

“Craigslist.” I turn my back on the view from the balconyand lean against the railing. In the glass door, I catch a reflection ofmyself, blond hair loose in the balmy night air.

“Anyway, I had to call Laney, who has a class tonight, butshe was able to send her roommate with our house key to babysit until I gethome. Diana, I think her name is.”

“You think?” I bark.

“I’m doing the best I can, Lauren!”

“I know,” I choke, willing myself not to cry.

I’m the only person I know who takes a small vacation andends up on a huge guilt trip.

“You okay?” Doug asks, his voice softer now.

“Mm-hmm,” I mumble, small tears rolling down my cheeks.Right now, I want to smell my son’s hair. I want to bury my head in mydaughter’s warm neck. Have I strayed too far from them and Doug, from my life?I take a deep breath.

“Can you tell me where you are? When you’re coming home?”

“Saturday,” I whisper.

“You’re sure? The case will be over by then?”

“I’m sure.” I say. “Done on Saturday.”

“Okay, then.” It sounds like he’s smiling. “That’smanageable. I’ll just pretend you’re on a business trip,” he jokes. “One ofthose teacher’s conferences in places like upstate New York, or Pittsburgh!”

Or Miami.

“I’m sorry, Doug. I’m so sorry,” I say.

“Lauren, it’s something you had to do,” he remindsme. “Don’t be sorry.”

The fact that he’s being nicer and sounding moresympathetic than I’ve heard him in months gives me pause.

Is it because I’m away? One of thoseabsence-makes-the-heart-grow-fonder things?

Or because I’m supposedly sequestered? Which must suck ifyou have to do it in real life?

Or because I sound distraught, which I am, by the babysitter’sabandonment of the children I abandoned first?

Or…is he distracted by something else? Working late,canceling on me and the kids, never wanting to go out and have fun with meanymore.

Maybe that distance I’m feeling in my marriage isn’tentirely my fault. Maybe it isn’t entirely imagined.

I glance at the adjoining door between our room andLenny’s, and wonder, is Doug hiding something from me? I mean, it doesn’t seemall that hard to cheat, lie, or steal from someone you love. Jodi can do it.Tim Cubix can do it. If I could do it, couldn’t Doug?

“Doug. Is there anything you want to tell me?” I ask.

There is a slight beat and then he answers. “Nope. Allgood here.”

His lighthearted sincerity is all I have to go off of. Imake a judgment call to believe what I hear, to put my faith in the man Imarried twelve years ago and who I know so well.

I only hope he still has faith in me, when this crazyleave of absence is done.

“You know,” I say. “This…jury duty thing. It is somethingI had to do, actually.” I take a hearty sip of my latest rum and Coke and letmyself relax a bit.

“Oh, and Lauren, before you go. The strangest thing. I’vebeen getting these cryptic messages from a Martha Carrington over at the middleschool. She seems to think that you were released from jury duty on Tuesdaymorning…?”

Fuck me! I try not to get frazzled as I stare at the sunsetting over Miami, and start yelling into the phone, thinking fast. “What’sthat, Doug? You’re breaking up! Damn this cell phone. The bailiff is calling usright now…I shouldn’t be talking to you…Tell Martha I’m at a hotel in anundisclosed location and that we’re about to have pizza delivered to ourrooms…I’m bunking with a woman named Carrie…not allowed to watch TV or turn onthe radio…like the OJ case…highly sensitive matter…I love you…I gotta go!” Ifinish, opening the sliding glass door and tossing my cell phone onto the bedas if it’s on fire.

Chapter 18

“This is rockin’!” Tim screams over the beat of deepbass, giving me the thumbs-up sign and drinking his alcohol like a good boy. Hehas been completely transfigured. Back in the hotel room, Jodi used herprofessional makeup kit to transform Tim. Then we accessorized him to the hiltso that no one can even tell there’s a person under all the stuff.

It’s amazing what a hat, sunglasses, and a hairy mole cando to change one’s appearance.

“You’re like the Artist Formerly Known as Tim Cubix!” Iyell back.

“Shh.” He chuckles, swaying slightly in the tide of thecrowd. “Don’t give it away. I love being anonymous!”

“That’s why the Clevelander is so perfect for us tonight,”I add. “It’s easy to get into and it’s filled with tons of trashed nobodies!”I’m finding that the more I drink, the easier it gets to just hang with mymovie star.

Even though he’s in disguise, he does not want to hit theusual high-end Miami hot spots tonight.

“When I party, I’m not looking for an attitude, but avibe,” he says. “And this place has got it.”

“Woo-hoo!” Kat says by way of agreement, coming over to uswith Lenny in tow. Alcohol has made her soften a bit toward Lenny. “Although Istill think he’s a prick to pick on a married lady,” she assured me, beforepulling him onto the dance floor a few minutes ago.

“Have you seen the women’s bathroom?” Kat asks us.

“I regret that I have not,” Tim notes.

“Well,” she continues, clearly tipsy, “it is, like,stocked with great stuff! There’s hairspray to use and all, and condoms, butthen there’s also a full-on candy bar! With gum and mints, and…these!” shesays, producing enough Blow-Pops for us to each take one. Which we do.Enthusiastically.

“Hey, where’s Jodi?” Kat asks. I gesture toward the raiseddance floor, where she is dancing to Pink’s “Bad Influence” with the huge,blacker-than-night bouncer.

“Ooh…let’s join her!” We push our way through the crowd ofspring-breaking twentysomethings until we reach the front.

I have managed to avoid any solo time with Lenny, thusavoiding having any sex with him. So far this strategy has worked.

Lenny and the Artist decide to watch from the sidelines asJodi, Kat and I have a blast dancing our asses off. Lenny stands a good threeor four inches taller than Tim, and I realize that the movies make him seembigger than he really is.

Kat’s request for the Weather Girls’ “It’s Raining Men”floods the dance floor with bodies.

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