“James, Skip, this is Jackie. Put your tongues back in your mouths.” Em gave us a stare.
Jackie Fuentes laughed. “Thank you so much for coming. I will be so glad when his things are out of the house.” She motioned to the mansion. “Follow me and I’ll show you where everything is.”
We would have followed her anywhere. So this was what trophy wives looked like. I couldn’t begin to imagine how beautiful and sexy the blond he’d left her for was. Em is one good-looking woman, but Jackie Fuentes was unbelievable. Maybe a little Latin and Italian and just plain gorgeous thrown in together.
Her cute, almost-naked butt led the way back to the house. She picked up a short robe from a chair by the pool and threw it around her shoulders. An attempt at decency, but the indecent part was already burned into my mind.
She opened the door and walked into the foyer. Marble tile continued from the porch and a huge living area spread out in all directions. I glanced up and saw the largest chandelier I’d ever seen in my life, even in a picture. Shining brass and hundreds of bulbs in a free-form fixture cast shadows below.
She escorted us down a wide hallway, carpeted like an expensive hotel. All right, the only expensive hotel I’d ever stayed in was when our high school swim team went up to Gainsville and I beat Fred Rea in the 100-meter breaststroke. But that was a pretty fancy hotel and this carpet reminded me of it.
“That’s the theater there.” We passed a room with five rows of seats and a large screen mounted on the wall. “And over there was,” she said the word in a chilly tone of voice, “his weight room. I hope you guys are up to moving his weights.”
James finally got his voice. I’d never seen him so awed. By the house, by the ocean view, and by Mrs. Jackie Fuentes. “Mrs. Fuentes, we’ll move whatever you have.”
She stopped and looked back at him, smiling a delicious smile. “It’s James?”
“It is.”
“And I’m Jackie. Not Mrs. Fuentes. I never want to be called Mrs. Fuentes again.”
“I never meant to offend you.”
“You’re cute, you know that?”
Em rolled her eyes.
At the end of the hall we entered a large room with boxes piled eight feet high. Clothing hung on wheeled aluminum racks, and in the far corner someone had set out his weights, a bench, and several barbells. I hadn’t lifted weights in six years. I’d like to think that I’m still in shape, but I don’t condition anymore, my diet isn’t exactly the best, and the number of beers consumed each week seems to increase at an alarming rate. What the hell, there were two of us. We could lift them.
I had a brief flirtation with the idea of buying them from her. We’d set them up on our patio and work out every afternoon after work. I weighed the two options. Lift weights, drink beer. As I said, it was a brief flirtation.
James, on the other hand, seemed to have more than a brief flirtation with Jackie Fuentes. She laughed at something he’d said and I could see the old James Lessor confidence oozing from him.
“Jackie?” Em broke in. She didn’t seem to like where this was going. “Why don’t you tell the guys what goes and if you have any specific packing instructions.”
“Sure.” She shook that pretty head and pulled the robe around her. “There’s a back entrance just at the end of the next hall. You can back your truck up there and just load it all in. I’ve got the address you’ll be taking it to.”
James touched her hand. “Leave it to us, Jackie. We’ll take care of everything.”
James was being a total idiot. For a minute I thought he might offer to do it for free, or for the chance to see her without that swimsuit. No, this was our future. You can’t screw up your first job because of a good-looking lady. I mean, it’s conceivable you’d find a good-looking lady at a number of your jobs. But, as I said, if I’d known what was in store, I would have stopped the whole project then and there.
I looked at Jackie Fuentes, and imagined her without the robe or bikini. It was cheaper that way.
CHAPTER SEVEN
J AMES MANEUVERED THE TRUCK up to the door. Em had been right. Backing up was a bitch. He swerved this way and that trying to get a feel for what he was seeing in the side mirrors. I stood by the door, yelling when he was in danger of hitting some of the landscaping, the small porch, or the house itself. There were several moments when I thought he might.
Finally, he had the rear of our Chevy somewhat lined up with the back door. He jumped out and surveyed the angle of the truck much like a painter or brick mason might step back to admire his work.
“Not too bad.”
“It took you fifteen minutes.”
“I’ll get better, Skip. You want to try?”
I didn’t.
“How should we do this? One of us could stand in the back of the truck and take the stuff to the rear after the other brings it down the hall-how does that sound?”
“Doable. We’ll take turns. You do truck duty for the first half and I’ll do it the second half.” I wanted it to be fair for all concerned.
We went at it for two hours, taking turns bringing boxes down the hall, lifting them into the back of the truck, and repeating the process dozens and dozens of times.
“The first thing we’re investing in when we get paid is a dolly.” I mopped my brow with the sopping wet T- shirt that I’d removed over an hour ago. If this became a steady gig, I wouldn’t need the weights. Thank God Jackie remembered she had a dolly about halfway through the job.
Light, heavy, the boxes kept coming. Some of them were open and we could peer into corners of Rick Fuentes’s life. There were desk items like pen sets and a crystal globe. Another open box had dozens of videotapes with titles like Tax Audits Involving Business Travel or Setting Up Your Own Off-shore Bank.
“It’s shit like this that is the difference between the haves and the have-nots,” James said.
Em walked in and pointed to the last pile of envelopes and boxes by the door. “Jackie says that’s all the mail he’s received in the last four weeks.”
“She hasn’t even opened his mail?” If I went four weeks without opening my mail the power and water would be shut off.
“Apparently he called her and asked her to open it. He said if there was anything important he needed her to call him, but she didn’t. I don’t think she wanted to know what he was involved in. I told you, she was scared.”
We each grabbed a load and carried it out, shoving everything into the truck.
“Long Island Ice Tea, boys?” Jackie came out of the house in a loose-flowing, long peach-colored summer dress. I could see through it, and she didn’t wear a bra. She carried a tray with these very fancy glasses, napkins, and glass stirrers topped with miniature pink flamingos.
I grabbed one as she offered the tray. It appeared we weren’t going to drink on the front porch by the pool, but at this point it made no difference. An iced alcoholic beverage was a beverage from heaven no matter where we drank it.
Em came out the door sipping hers. She’d kept Jackie company while we did our dirty work. James and I sat down on the small concrete porch and the girls joined us. I closed my eyes and tilted the glass, draining a quarter of it in one gulp. Sweet syrup with a bite. I could immediately feel the relaxing warmth in my veins. I would have settled for just this drink. James seemed interested in more than the drink or the money.
“I don’t want to sound like I’m coming on to you, but-”
Jackie smiled. “But you are?”
“Skip and I can keep this in the truck overnight and unload it tomorrow.”
Which was new to me. I’d thought we were going to unload it tonight at the storage unit and be done with it.
“So,” he continued, “would you like to grab a bite to eat after I get cleaned up?”
“You’re cute.”
