“Tomorrow night, we’re doing surveillance?” I confirm a little too excitedly for the situation, peering around the bar to make sure no one heard.
“We are. Jean is taking her kids to her parents’ house for the rest of the weekend. She promises to be gone until at least seven on Sunday.”
“Do we actually think he’s stupid enough to bring his mistress to his house?”
“Only one way to find out. Last time she left town with the kids, she came home to evidence of a woman in their home. Her sheets smelled of Chanel, and her make-up was rearranged in her dressing table.”
“Shit, why does she need us? That’s her evidence right there.”
“She needs physical proof and doesn’t want to hire a PI. He has an iron-clad prenup, and she is going to slam him in the face with the best kind of revenge.”
It turns out, Jean is actually our first real client. Suspicious fiancée is out of the state on business and said she’d contact us when she’s ready. Jean came through the inquiry system last Sunday and was ready to go. She set up a private email account and explained that her situation had a dire sense of urgency. Her husband is a very well-respected executive in a healthcare company, and their circle of friends are all too tight knit for her to confide in anyone about her suspicions.
Jean lives on the outskirts of town in an exclusive community where the houses start in the low millions. She also has three children and wants to continue to raise them in the same area, which means she’ll need to be financially stable.
So, she turned to us, gave us her reasons for worry, and asked we act quickly. In my opinion, she had enough ‘rough’ support to present to a lawyer, but she wanted concrete evidence. Tomorrow afternoon and evening, we are staking out her house to see if her husband provides us with what she needs.
We may be amateurs, but I was proud of the game plan Maren and I established. It was simple, and if she was right, we’d have her proof. I had more experience in this area, considering I followed douche-tool around town for weeks for Maren, but it was going to be much more fun to have a partner.
“Did you see the four other emails we received this week?” Maren sips her drink.
“I did. What are you thinking?”
“That I’m losing faith in the sanctity of monogamy, and I’ll be single for the rest of my life.” There’s a hint of sadness in her tone, and I reach across to squeeze her hand.
“Mare, you are not going to be single forever. We’ve gone over this. You’re better off now, and you can completely explore what the dating world has to offer.”
“I’m not sure you are the one to be offering guidance on dating. When’s the last time you had a date?”
“Hey, ladies!” Nina joins us with our friend Rachel. We all exchange hugs, and they pull up stools to sit with us. “What’d we miss?” Nina motions to the bartender.
“Nothing much, it’s about to get interesting,” Maren answers.
“Oh, really, why is that?”
“Emi is about to give me dating advice.”
“Wait, did I miss something? When did Emi get a dating life?”
I shoot Nina a dirty look and catch Rachel’s grin.
“I have a dating life, thank you very much,” I defend myself.
“Since when?” they all say in unison.
I drain my drink, trying to think of the last time I had a real date. Shit, it’s been… three… four… five months??? I should learn to keep my mouth shut.
“Okay, I admit it’s been a while, but this isn’t about me. It’s about Maren’s stupid idea she’ll be single forever.” Take that, hooker! I toast my empty glass in the air at her, proud of my rebound.
“Oh, no, you don’t! This isn’t about me.” She throws it back to me. “This is about you now. Let’s hear all your worldly wisdom on dating.”
“What can I get you ladies?” the bartender interrupts, and I’m so grateful I almost leap across the bar to kiss her.
“I’ll have another of these, maybe two.” I point to my empty martini.
“Beer,” Rachel tells her.
“Cosmo,” Nina orders.