Chapter 23

Two hours later I was laid out on a table at a salon called Skinny Wraps. My body was wrapped from neck to toe in white bandage strips soaked in mineral clay. I looked like an escapee from Revenge of the Chubby Mummy.

″So, where′s your escape camel, Kate? Cooling its toes outside the pyramid?″ Frank called out. He was crouched in the corner of the room with his camera, getting a low-angle shot of me getting plaster-cast in a body wrap.

″You′re a funny guy, Frankenstein. Kiss my Irish ass.″

″You want to see funny, wait till you get a load of this shot on camera.″ Frank moved in for a tight-in of my mummified thighs-my punishment for calling him by his most-hated nickname, Frankenstein.

A ″reduction technician″ named Yolanda took my measurements with a tape measure. For this part of the show, I′d donned my bikini. Even though my measurements were embarrassing, at least the surfaces were smooth and tight, thanks to Evelyn′s stripper stocking. God bless her.

″We have an excellent result,″ Yolanda announced in a German-sounding accent that turned Ws into Vs. ″You′ve lost eleven inches total from your body measurements.″

Since I′d started with about two hundred inches total (counting practically every curved surface on my body), that was a five percent shrinkage. And even though I suspected that Yolanda might have taken some slight liberties with the tape measure to shave off some inches, secretly I was impressed.

Overall, the taping at Skinny Wraps had gone much better than I′d expected. That was a good thing, because my day was about to change direction in a major way. Everything about my life was about to go downhill.

Rapidly.

Chapter 24

″Come with me to zee casbah tonight, Kate. I have a sultan′s son I want you to meet. He has a magic flying carpet.″

″Evelyn, the last thing I want to do right now is meet someone new. I haven′t even officially broken up with Jonathan yet. I haven′t talked to him since I caught him in bed with Gi. Besides, I just made a fresh batch of sour cream onion dip.″

I was sprawled out on the couch in my living room, covered in sour cream potato chip crumbs, holding my cell phone to my ear. Elfie was perched in her favorite spot-atop my chest, purring, with her paws tucked underneath her.

Evelyn and I had just finished doing a sobby postmortem of all the recent developments of the week, including Jana′s murder. Now she had pulled out a bad Greta Garbo accent in an effort to lure me out of the comfy cocoon of my apartment on a Saturday night.

Over the phone, I heard Evelyn sigh. ″Okay, so maybe the sultan′s son I have in mind has a vintage Camaro, not a carpet,″ she said. ″But that doesn′t mean you should sit around the house on a Saturday night moping. Or eating.″

That little dig made me regret having confessed my plunge into the chip dip.

As I covered the phone to muffle the sound of my crunching down on another chip, Evelyn continued, ″Seriously, Kate-the ZuZubees are playing at the Metrodale tonight. I know the lead guitarist in the band really well. He′s dying to meet you.″

″I′ll bet.″

″Well, maybe I haven′t exactly mentioned you to him yet. But still, he′ll be thrilled to meet you once we′re there. So please come to the club tonight with Kyle and me.″

″Kyle? Who′s he? What happened to Liam?″

″Oh, Liam had major baggage,″ she said, dismissing the discarded Liam with a sniff. ″He couldn′t stop complaining about his ex-wife. He called her his ex-hole; can you believe that? How boorish. So I ended the evening early. I didn′t even let him see my new boobs.″

″Serves him right.″

Although I appreciated my friend′s offer of companionship, I dreaded the idea of becoming a third wheel in a new love formation between Evelyn and some guy. And no way did I want to be introduced to a lead guitarist who undoubtedly preferred his groupies googly-eyed and tramp stamped.

″Thanks, Evelyn,″ I said. ″But I think I just want to isolate tonight.″

″Watch out for that urge to be alone,″ she warned. ″You could slide into a depression.″

″I′m fine. Don′t worry.″

″No, you′re not. Anyone can have a few down days, Kate, but you′ve been stuck in this rut for a while. I′m no doctor, but I think you′re clinically depressed. I think you should go see someone.″

″I′m not-″

″No, really. I′ve known you a long time, and I′m worried about you. You′re eating your red-light foods again, you′re not going to the gym with me, and you never want to go out anymore. Those are the signs.″

When I started to protest that I didn′t have any signs, she cut me off. ″Yes, you do. You′re almost turning into a hermit,″ she said. ″You used to love going out clubbing with me.″

″We′ll go clubbing in the spring, okay? I really just feel like hibernating tonight.″

″Hibernating?″ Evelyn′s tone was skeptical. ″That′s only for bears. When you′re with a guy, it′s called ′cocooning.′ But when you′re by yourself, you have a tendency to put on back fat.″

″I′ll go to yoga with you next week, okay?″

After we said good-bye and clicked off, I detached Elfie from my chest and gently set her down on the floor. Then I heaved myself to my feet and made my way to the kitchen. A wave of fatigue washed over me, and I felt as if I could barely stay upright. Maybe it was sugar withdrawal. Or maybe Evelyn was right-maybe I was depressed. All I′d had to eat today were refined carbohydrates-the really evil ones that had nothing in them except major injections of high-fructose corn syrup; someone had once told me that that was what they gave to people in cults to get them to break down mentally. It was time to check out the kitchen for something green and healthy.

I was reaching into my refrigerator when Elfie froze. She scrambled for the bedroom. Before I could figure out what had startled her, I heard a light tapping at the door.

I opened the door and felt a cool rush of air. An angular, familiar silhouette was framed in the camphor-colored light of the shallow front landing.

It was Jonathan.