“I totally disagree. I have to go undercover with you. I’m your backup. I need to make sure my girl is loose and ready to rumble. I’ve got some thoughts on hookers.”
Sometimes with Sandra she just had to go with it. Often with Sandra, things got so over-the-top awkward it was amusing. “I think they’re called gigolos when they’re male.”
Sandra shook her head. “I refuse that terminology. Look, a doctor’s a doctor whether said doc has lady bits or dangly parts or anything in between. A pro’s a pro. If there’s one thing my daughter’s generation has right, it’s sexual fluidity.”
Sometimes it was utterly fascinating to watch Sandra go. It was one of the reasons she was kind of excited about the upcoming job. Sure, it was a fairly simple catch-the-corporate-spy-in-action job that she’d done a hundred times, but Sandra was her backup and that meant the world might explode. “So you think I should call up an agency and tell them I’ll take whatever they send. Girl parts. Boy parts. Doesn’t matter.”
“I’m only saying these people are professionals and strap-ons exist.”
The bartender nearly dropped the bottle of wine she’d been pouring. That happened a lot around Sandra. The woman had no filter and absolutely no fucks to give. Still, she had to smile. Many good things had come out of the mission that had finally brought the Lost Boys full circle, but meeting Sandra had been a blessing to Nina. Sandra had become her friend, and she needed a friend who took no bullshit and told no lies. It was refreshing, even if sometimes challenging. “Well, I will certainly keep that in mind if I feel like I need a good snog.”
“You need more than a snog,” Sandra pointed out. “Your shoulders are up around your ears. You know they’re not supposed to be there, right?”
She couldn’t help it if she was a bit on the Type A side of the personality scale. It had served her well in her profession. Well, mostly. “What do you think the wine is for?”
Sandra considered her for a moment. “I think you’ll have two glasses of wine, and even though you might want a third, you’ll refuse. Like at dinner. You wanted dessert but turned it away. You’ll drink the amount of wine you’ve agreed you can have and then you’ll be in bed by nine alone. You’ll read a romance novel but when ten o’clock strikes, no matter how much you want to read more, you’ll close the book and turn out the lights because you have a schedule.”
Well, put like that her evening sounded boring. Yes, she’d wanted the cheeseburger and settled for the grilled chicken salad sans dressing. Yes, she’d wanted a taste of chocolate cake, but a taste tended to lead to eating the whole thing, and then she might gain a pound and he would…
She wasn’t really thinking of Roger, was she? She wasn’t still making choices based on the humiliation he might heap on her. Shame washed over her, the horrible cycle of a terrible relationship so ingrained in her being that she hadn’t even realized she was still going through it. “Maybe I’ll have a third glass of wine. But I should go to bed early. I have to deal with Big Tag tomorrow. That requires all my faculties.”
Sandra’s face softened. “Big Tag is the easiest person in the world to deal with if you don’t mind a little sarcasm. Honestly, he’s the single most tolerant human being I’ve ever met.”
“Are we talking about the same person?”
Sandra grinned. “Oh, he’ll call out dumbassery wherever he sees it, but there’s a kindness to the man if you look for it. Most of the things he does are because he gives a damn. Look, I think I know where you are.”
“Dallas.” She could be sarcastic, too, and she rather wanted to avoid this particular talk. One of the things she liked about Sandra was she kept things light.
But wasn’t that what she’d wanted for years? Keep things light so she didn’t have to get hurt again. Shallow friendships she didn’t have to be honest about, didn’t have to admit her flaws and mistakes because they were all about having a laugh.
Sandra ignored her. “My husband left me for a younger woman when Roni was five years old. I wasn’t woman enough for him. His words, not mine. To him a woman was soft and feminine in a very traditional sense. Feminine to him meant wearing pretty clothes and ensuring his comfort and making him feel like a man because he wasn’t strong enough to be one on his own. I made a mistake when I married him. I wouldn’t take it back because I got two amazing kids out of the asshole, but he wasn’t good enough for me. Now since then I’ve come to realize I’m good at being me. I like myself. I like being on my own. I don’t think I’ll ever get remarried, but I’m going to have a lot of fun before I go out. Sweetie, you aren’t having fun.”
“I wasn’t married to him.” To Roger.
“He still cost you a lot.”
He’d cost her everything, including her self-esteem. “It was my fault. I was an Interpol agent and I didn’t see that my partner, the man I was sleeping with, was working for the enemy, was using my work to help out his real boss.”
And now that she was a year away from the fact, she could see how he’d distracted her. He’d used her own need-to-please nature against her.
Sandra sighed and put a hand on her arm. “No. That’s where you’re wrong. It wasn’t your fault. You got used. You went into a relationship with all the right intentions. He was an asshole. Don’t let him ruin the rest of your life. We’re going to a beautiful tropical island soon. Think about finding some pleasure in it.”
“I’m working. I’m there to find a corporate spy, not a shag.”
“I don’t
