Free Got Your Number by Stephanie Bond Page A

you."
    Angora's eyes widened.
    "I'm kidding." She laughed at her cousin's gullibility. "I help women who are in trouble."
    "Like me."
    Roxann smiled wryly. "Except the women I deal with are usually in danger of more than being jilted at the altar."
    "Everything's relative," Angora said with a sniff, then frowned into her glass before taking another drink. "But I always knew you'd do something good with your life."
    I'VE GOT YOUR NUMBER, YOU FAKE.
    Roxann fidgeted and downed another mouthful of the drink. "Everyone has their own opinion of what's good."
    "Was helping women on your life list?"
    "I don't think so, not specifically. I honestly can't remember."
    "How many things are on your list?"
    Roxann picked up the papers and flipped to the last page. "Thirty-five. You?"
    "Thirty-six. What's your number one?"
    "Let's see... 'Backpack across Europe.' "
    "Have you?"
    "Not yet." Not on the meager salaries she commanded, and the tiny stipend she received from Rescue went straight into a money market account. She smoothed a finger over her double-faced travel watch. It was 1 a.m. in London. "But someday. What's number one on your list?"
    Angora grinned sheepishly. "To be Miss America."
    Of course.
    "It could still happen," she insisted.
    "Don't you have to be twenty-five or under?"
    "Hey, I could squeak by, but you also have to be single. Oh, I forgot—I am single." She misted up.
    "You still have—what is it? The Miss Uptown Baton Rouge title?" The alcohol was bleeding through her limbs like menthol.
    "Miss Northwestern Baton Rouge."
    "Oh. Well, with a big honking crown like that, I'll let you count it."
    "Thanks." Angora sniffled and put a mark on the page with an "RTC Electric" ink pen. "My number two is 'Fly a plane.' "
    "Fly a plane?"
    Angora shrugged. "Why not?"
    "Because it's a big hunk of metal that hurtles through the air."
    "Are you saying I'm not smart enough to learn how to fly a plane?"
    "No."
    "Good, because I'm going to someday. What's your number two?"
    " 'Learn to speak French.' For when I went to Paris, of course."
    "Is that why you used to wear that ugly beret?"
    Roxann frowned—Carl had said it was chic.
    "Did you ever learn French?" Angora asked.
    "Just the Cajun I picked up around here, but I doubt if it would get me very far outside of Louisiana. Maybe I'll take a class someday. Number three?"
    " 'Have a cameo on General Hospital.' "
    "Wow."
    "Luke and Laura were all the rage." Angora sighed. "Now there was a match made in heaven."
    "There was a match made during a writers' meeting. How were you going to wangle your way onto a soap opera?"
    "Well, I figured once I was Miss America, I could go on any TV show I wanted to."
    "Good thinking." Either that, or the tequila was grabbing hold of her. "My number three is 'Write a screenplay.' "
    "And?"
    "And I couldn't tell you the last time I even saw a movie."
    "Why did you write down things that were so hard?"
    "Because I had big plans." At eighteen, nothing had seemed beyond reach. World renown. Global peace. True love. "Number four?"
    " 'Meet the president.' "
    "Of the United States?"
    Angora bit her lip. "I don't know."
    "Well, since you didn't specify, you can be creative."
    "Thanks. What's your number four?"
    " 'Be valedictorian.'"
    Angora bounced up and down on the bed. "You were, so you can cross off that one."
    She did, but her stomach churned from the foul drink—so of course she drank more of it.
    "Next I have 'Drive a nice car.' " Angora smiled smugly. "Cross off."
    Roxann's return smile was wry. "Which makes my 'Ride a horse' pale a little in comparison."
    " 'Design a line of clothing.' "
    " 'Read the entire works of Shakespeare.' "
    " 'Learn to swim.' "
    Roxann lifted an eyebrow. "You can't swim?"
    "No."
    "But your parents have an Olympic-sized pool."
    "Mother wouldn't let me use it—she was afraid I'd drown."
    Dee's logic was nothing if not consistent. " 'Learn to play the piano.' "
    Angora's eyes welled up.
    "What?"
    "The next thing on my list is