Page 45 of Dirty Deeds

“I have questions,” Ro announces. “For starters was he just as good as you remember?”

Peeling my hand away from my face, I smile. “Even better.” My teeth sink into my lower lip. “He’s not just looking for sex, Ro. He asked me out on a date.”

“And that’s a problem?”

I shake my head.

“Not necessarily. It’s just…he’s kind of perfect.”

She’s about to say something, but the sentence dies on her lips as she turns onto the block of the hospital. I follow her line of sight, taking in the massive amount of news trucks lined in front of the main entrance of the hospital.

“Jesus Christ,” I hiss. All these reporters can’t be here for Brent, can they? He’s not that interesting.

“Fox News and CNN? It’s a party. I bet if we turn them both on, they tell two completely different stories.”

“And both will be the furthest thing from the truth,” I mutter.

“Maybe I can go around to the Emergency Room entrance. I’ll valet the car and we can sneak inside.” It’s not a terrible idea. I’m just not sure it’s worth the hassle. “What do you want to do? We need to make a move here. I can’t just park in the middle of the street. As soon as those sick fucks realize you’re in this car, they’re going to bombard us.”

My gaze snaps to Ro and I sigh. I can’t hide behind tinted windows forever.

“I might as well get this over with now. Park in the lot across the street.”

She quirks an eyebrow but doesn’t second-guess my decision. Instead, she puts the car into drive and shifts into the left lane. At the light she turns into the parking lot across from the hospital. Once the car is parked, she reaches over the console and pops open the glove compartment, pulling out a pair of oversized sunglasses and shoves them into my hand.

“They’re not Dior but they’re knock-off Versace’s. I call them my Fougacci’s.”

A chuckle escapes my lips as I give her hand a squeeze and fix the glasses to my nose. In my next life I’m coming back as Ro. No matter the crisis, she always seems to find a way to deal. The world would be a better place if we all took a page from her book and stopped sweating the small stuff and thinking the world owes us a favor because we got dealt a shitty hand. We’d be stronger for it and probably even find a way to smile more.

“You ready?” she asks.

I drag in a deep breath and toss her a wink.

“Let’s do it, girlfriend.”

She smiles at me.

“Those Fougacci’s look good on you. I know what I’m getting you for Christmas.”

“Fake sunglasses from Canal Street?”

“If you’re a good girl, I’ll throw in a copycat bag to match too.”

I laugh and we both get out of the car. Ro clicks the locks and makes her way to my side. No one notices us until we cross the street and start for the entrance, then they immediately charge toward me.

“Mrs. Matthews are you here to visit your ex-husband?”

No, I’m here for a tummy tuck and a breast lift.

“Who is Larissa Kosivich? Why is she residing in a house your ex-husband owns in Brighton Beach? Was he there visiting her the night of the attack?”

I guess Brent’s dirty little secret isn’t a secret no more.

“Mrs. Matthews! Mrs. Matthews!”

When things calm down, I’m scheduling an appointment with the DMV and changing my last name. I should’ve done it as soon as the divorce was final, but I didn’t see the rush. Now, I cringe every time I hear the surname.

We rush past the press, finally pushing through the glass doors. A security guard stops the media from following us into the hospital.

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