Free Cherry Bomb by J. A. Konrath Page A

There’s also Toy Story 2, but we don’t have it anymore because it got stuck in the DVD player and Mommy threw it out.”
    Alex stares at the girl. So small and fragile. Father would have liked her. Alex prefers adults to children. Nothing can induce a migraine like a little kid screaming hour after hour. Even gagged, the high pitch is piercing enough to call stray dogs.
    “Melinda!”
    A woman hurries over, her expression a mix of concern and disappointment. She’s tall, thin, pretty, platinum blond. Alex notices how she moves, in an easy, assured way. Athlete. Possibly a dancer.
    “What have I told you about wandering off? You were supposed to stay by the picture books.”
    “The lady has a computer like Daddy’s.”
    Melinda points to Alex’s laptop.
    “It is like Daddy’s, but that doesn’t mean you can go and touch things that aren’t yours.” Her blue eyes mea sure Alex. There’s no hesitation, no drop in confidence, even when she notices the veil. “I apologize. Melinda, she’s a curious little bug. I hope she didn’t disturb you or ruin anything.”
    “You might want to keep her on a tighter leash.” Alex puts a bit of iron in her voice. “There are some pretty crazy people in the world.”
    “Tell me about it. Look, it’s not my business, but is that blazer Dolce and Gabbana? It is freaking gorgeous.”
    “Yes, it is.” Alex appraises the woman’s outfit, jeans and a red top. “Those jeans are Italian, aren’t they?”
    The woman lights up. “Yes! You won’t ever guess what they’re called.”
    “They’re called My Ass. I used to have a pair. The belt line in back dips down, like the top of a heart.”
    The woman spins on her toes and lifts her shirt, revealing the divot, along with an intricate lower back tattoo. No visible thong or panty lines. Her heels are three inches, gold lamé. Alex amends her initial assessment from dancer to stripper. She’s the perfect height, and no wedding ring either.
    “I used to love those jeans. I bet your husband does.”
    “I’m not married.”
    “My mistake. Melinda said Daddy, so I just assumed…”
    “Daddy died,” Melinda chirped in, just as cheerful as when she was talking about Toy Story .
    “We were never married,” the woman explained. “Her father died last year. Car accident.”
    Alex’s interest rises several notches. She still isn’t sure about the woman’s sexual orientation, so she plays it coy.
    “I’m new here, so I don’t know where any of the shops are. Where can a girl buy Louis Vuitton in this town?”
    “I love Louis Vuitton! See?”
    She holds up her brown purse, which Alex had spotted immediately after noticing her.
    “It’s freaking gorgeous,” Alex says. “I’m Gracie, by the way.”
    “Samantha. Sammy for short.”
    Sammy offers her hand, smirks. Her touch is soft, and she tickles her index finger on the inside of Alex’s palm when she shakes.
    “Look, Sammy, this may sound kind of forward, but I need someone to help me shop. I’ve been hiding from the world for a while. Car accident. Really messed up my face. This is the only outfit I feel I can wear in public. I haven’t been out of the house in months.”
    “God, Gracie, that’s awful.”
    “Are you and Melinda free now? We could hit a few shops, then I’d buy you guys dinner.”
    “Shit, that would be fun. But my shift starts in an hour.”
    “Is Sammy your stage name?”
    Sammy grins wide, revealing perfect caps.
    “Stage name is Princess. You used to be in the life? You’ve got the body for it.”
    “I’ve worked a few poles in my day. Which club?”
    “High Rollers. It’s uptown.”
    “Long hours. Does Grandma watch Melinda while you dance?”
    “Grandma is in heaven with Daddy,” Melinda says.
    Sammy puts both arms around her daughter, cradling her face. “Our neighbor watches the bug. I only work four nights a week.”
    “Money that good?”
    “It’ll do till I get my business degree. I’m taking some classes during