Free T. Lynn Ocean - Jersey Barnes 01 - Southern Fatality by T. Lynn Ocean

topped with grilled shrimp and a basket of garlic rolls.
    Lolly sat with a leg tucked beneath her in the chair, giving me a look that was half victimized wife and half seductress. Her elbows were on the table and a pinkie finger, in a nervous but guy-catchinggesture, played with her bottom lip as though her mouth was a toy. A nearby patron stopped eating his hamburger to openly stare at her.
    “He’s not cheating on you, Lolly,” I said.
    “He’s not?” She looked genuinely surprised.
    “No. There may be something going on at his firm that could be troublesome, but there is definitely not another woman. Feel better?”
    She looked at the ceiling and breathed a deep sigh of relief. Her breasts swelled momentarily with the effort, causing our neighboring diner’s eyes to nearly bulge. Just for kicks, I mimicked Lolly and stuck out the twins, as Spud had aptly named my government-paid implants. The fellow’s eyes moved from Lolly’s chest to mine and when I winked at him, he nearly choked on a mouthful of food. It was good to know that my semiretired self still had it.
    After a beat, Lolly’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “I don’t understand. What’s happening at Chesterfield Financial?”
    “I don’t know,” I told her. “But Bill thought you needed to know that Samuel isn’t seeing someone else.”
    “I guess. It was dumb to have even confided in that woman to begin with.” Lolly turned the full force of her crystal blue eyes on me. “She was just so … sympathetic.”
    “Nosy would be more like it. She’s a social columnist. She’s a piranha.”
    Reprimanded, Lolly remained silent.
    “Look, Lolly, I don’t know you. But I do know Bill, and since you’re his friend, you’re my friend.” There was no gentle way to put it. “Being married to someone like Chesterfield is going to present challenges and people may try to take advantage of you. They’ll want your story, your money, and yes, at some point you may encounter a woman who wants your husband. But for now,just focus on your marriage and be happy with your good fortune.”
    “You’re right,” she said. “My mother told me the same thing. When I was little, I mean. She used to tell me to plan my strategy, like you do in a game of chess, before I acted on a thought. To know how it would turn out.” Lolly’s eyes were focused on a distant spot over my shoulder, as though her mind was far away. Suddenly, the pupils shrunk and she focused her gaze on me. “I never could figure out how to play chess. I’m not real smart, like Bill, or you. But I love Samuel so much. He’s the best thing that ever happened to me. The thought of him with somebody else made me crazy. And, contrary to what people think, I didn’t marry him for—”
    “The money.” I finished the thought for her, thinking she was trying hard to convince me that she was a good person. I finished my water and started on the ale.
    “Yes,” she agreed. “I really didn’t marry him for the money. I don’t want to have all that money. There are other things much more important than money.”
    I wondered if she was telling the truth. If given the opportunity, what person wouldn’t want to have millions upon millions of dollars at their disposal? Nobody that I knew.
    “Well, you are where you are, in a new town with a new husband. If you love Chesterfield, you’ll deal with being his wife in a responsible manner. Running to the tabloids with accusations that he was cheating on you would not have been good.”
    She looked ready to cry, and for a moment, I felt bad. Like I had just punished an innocent child. Or, like the time I popped Cracker on the snout hard enough to make him yelp because he’d snatched a peeled shrimp off of a customer’s plate at the Block. In both cases, they may have just been following instinct.
    “I see your point. I just don’t know if I’ve got what it takes,” she confessed.
    “Of course you do. Modeling isn’t an easy thing, and if