Susan Phillips - First Star I See Tonight

“Oh, I’m sure I have,” Amber said, sure of no such thing.

“Amber sings with the Lyric,” Jen explained. “She’s both clueless and amazing.”

“I’ll bet I’ve heard you,” Graham said.

Fat chance, Piper thought. Graham would no more darken the halls of the Lyric Opera than he would throw a deliberate interception.

“Ladies, as much as I’ve enjoyed meeting you, I need to talk to Ms. Dove ”-another cockroach stomped into oblivion-“about a business matter.”

Amber began to turn to the door, then stopped and moved next to Piper. Jen did the same thing. “Maybe we can help,” she said firmly.

Girlfriends stuck together, and none of them were leaving until Piper gave the word. With the greatest reluctance, Berni joined them. They were a unit: a ballsy television meteorologist, a Korean opera singer with the voice of an angel, and the number one Stars football fangirl. How screwed up could Piper’s life be when she had friends like this?

“It’s okay,” she said. “I can handle it.”

“Are you sure?” This came from Amber, who suddenly looked as formidable as Wagner’s Brünnhilde.

Not sure at all, but Piper nodded. “It’s business.”

“I’m certain this is a simple misunderstanding,” Berni said, and then, in a pseudo-whisper, “I’ll leave a retainer check in your mailbox, Piper. That’s how it’s done, right?”

“No check, Berni. We’ll talk tomorrow.” After today, what was one more challenge?

“Piper?” Jen said.

As much as Piper appreciated their concern, she couldn’t let Graham see her as a weakling. She forced a lazy wave toward the door. “Later.”

On her way out, Berni regarded Graham. “Piper is a very good person.”

“It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Berkovitz,” he said.

She touched his arm. “I make an excellent brisket. If you ever get hungry for brisket, you let me know.”

He gave her his odious fan-smile. “I’ll do that.”

“Or my divinity fudge if you’ve got a sweet tooth.”

He smiled, the door closed behind them, and his affability vanished. Piper’s only defense was a strong offense. She set her shoulders and charged toward him. “My surveillance was legal. Yes, going into the club could be a gray area, but Spiral is a public space, and you’d have to prove that my presence caused you extreme emotional distress. Somehow I don’t think a judge would buy that from a former MVP.”

He loomed over her, six feet three to her five feet six. “Who hired you?”

She straightened her spine, trying to gain another inch of height. “I can’t tell you that. But I will say that it’s no one who wishes you harm.”

“Why don’t I find that comforting?”

“It’s the truth.”

“And you’re an expert on the truth, Esmerelda?”

She struggled to keep her cool. “Nobody likes being duped. I understand that. But I had a job to do.”

“Not impressed. Who are you working for?”

“Like I said: no one who’s a threat to you.”

“I’ll decide that for myself.”

“I have nothing else to say.”

“Is that so?” He bored in on her. “Let me put it this way: you can either tell me now or you’ll hear from my lawyers.”

He had to know a lawsuit would destroy her. She tried to channel a wealthy CEO. “Lawsuits are such a time sink.”

“Then give me what I want.”

She couldn’t do that, but she had to do something other than fall on her knees and beg him not to sue her. “I’ll make a deal with you. If you back off, I’ll tell you who your real enemy is. And it’s not the person who hired me.”

He gave her his iciest stare. Waiting. She fought the suffocating feeling that he was once again sucking the air out of the room. “That model you’ve been singling out,” she said. “Blonde. Big boobs, tiny hips, and bizarrely long legs. I know-she’s only one mouse at a cheese convention-but this mouse calls herself Vivian, and you’ve been having lots of cozy chats with her.”

“What of it?”

“After a few snorts of funny stuff in the ladies’ room, she’s telling all her friends how she’s going to trick you into getting her pregnant. You want someone who’s a real threat to you? She’s your gal.”

“Nobody had better be snorting anything in the ladies’ room,” he declared. “That’s why I have security.”

“You’re paying them way too much.”

“And you’re making this up.”

“Am I? Has your so-called security picked up on the side business that at least one of your employees is running? At your expense.”

“What kind of side business?”

“Don’t call your legal eagles, and I’ll tell you.”

“I’ve already called ’em.”

She gulped. “Suit yourself. But I strongly suggest you do your own liquor inventory instead of farming out the job. And when you come up short, remember this conversation.”

“You’re bluffing.”

He was done with her, and as he turned to the door, she knew she had to give him something more. “Keep a closer eye on your red-haired bartender. Then call me and apologize.”

That stopped him. His face toughened with anger. “Keith? That’s bullshit. You picked the wrong guy to lie about.” He drove a pointed finger in the general direction of her head. “You’ve got twenty-four hours to give me the name of the person who hired you or you’ll hear from my lawyers.”

The door slammed shut behind him.

Cooper fumed all the way to the club. She was a liar ten times over. Keith Millage was one of his oldest friends. They’d played ball together all through college. Bartenders were notorious for skimming from club owners, and Cooper had brought Keith out from Tulsa just so he’d have someone he trusted watching his back. As for Vivian… Coop had no interest in any of his customers, but if he did… Unlike some of his stupider teammates, he’d never made himself vulnerable to those “accidental” pregnancies.

He pondered the most important question. Who’d hired a detective to follow him and why? He knew the Chicago nightclub business was cutthroat, but what could anyone hope to learn?

He arrived at the club and settled behind his desk. He didn’t like mysteries, and he especially didn’t like mysteries when he was trying to attract an investor. Not just any investor, either. The best in the city. The only one he wanted to work with.

It was time to get down to the floor. He was the card that drew in customers, and while other celebrity nightclub owners made only passing appearances, he played to win, even if it meant being accosted by overzealous fans and trapped by self-proclaimed football experts who only thought they understood the game.

To his disgust, he caught himself watching Keith that night, a guy he’d trust with his life. His hostility toward Piper Dove hardened. As he turned his attention to the group of women pressing up against him, he made up his mind. Nobody won a championship by letting his enemies walk free. He was taking her down, right along with her penny ante detective agency.

On Monday morning, Piper dressed in black for what was certain to be the most miserable meeting of her short-lived career as a business owner. Black sweater and black wool slacks. She polished her ancient black boots and unearthed a pair of jagged silver earrings. As long as she was going down in flames, she’d look tough while she did it.

Deidre Joss’s right-hand man and senior VP met Piper in the reception area of the Joss Investment Group offices. Noah Parks was Piper’s regular contact, the person she’d had to call with the ugly news that Cooper Graham had made her. Even though he was an East Coast Ivy Leaguer, his buzz cut, blunt nose, and square jaw made him look like a former Marine. He gave her a curt nod. “Deidre wants to talk to you herself.”