Shop Talk by Carolyn Haines Read Free Book Online Page A

sedative effect, dull the senses? I mean, why would you want to have sex if you don’t feel every nuance, every feather-touch of pleasure.”
    “And every slap of pain?” Jazz asked, holding the Jack Daniels so that the light set it ablaze with golden lights.
    Mona’s left eyebrow arched. “Yes, and every slap of pain.”
    “Here’s Dallas and Coco.” Andromeda waved at them. “You know, I’d give anything to see pictures of her when she was fat.”
    “Looking at her now, I can’t believe she weighed nearly three hundred pounds. I mean there isn’t even a stretch mark.” Jazz patted her hair. It was blond white and rose into a tower of teased and sprayed curls, with the one swoop hanging in her eye. “Has Coco ever said what that surgery cost her?”
    “Every penny she got from her divorce settlement. But she thinks it’s worth it.” Mona swirled the burgundy in her glass as she spoke. “One of my, uh, research assistants said they used the loose skin they took off her to save three burn victims in ICU.”
    Andromeda lifted her sunglasses to peer beneath them. “Is that Sonny Zanzara she’s talking to? Owner of Fiesta Casino?”
    Mona leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Coco said on the phone that he’d asked her to do some cooking classes. Sort of a promotional for the casino, emphasis on the restaurants.” She leaned closer. “He might come up with the money to help her get her cookbook published.”
    “If
you want to be self-published.” Jazz finished her Jack.
    “That wouldn’t be my choice,” Mona said, “but at least it would be published. At the rate I’m going, I’ll be dead before anyone except this group reads a word I’ve written.”
    “Let’s change the subject, it’s too depressing.” Jazz waved, a big movement that finally got the waiter’s attention. “Gar-con, gar-con! More wine!” she yelled.
    “Sit down, Jazz,” Andromeda commanded. “We want to be able to finish this meeting before we’re put out on our ear.” She looked around the table. “What are we going to do?”
    Dallas Dior lugged two heavy shopping bags up to the table and dropped them on the floor. Taking a seat, she reached across the table and uncovered the breadsticks, still warm. She lifted one out of the basket and moved it daintily to her mouth, biting down with a sigh of pleasure. “Shopping is such hard work.”
    “Your husband is going to kill you.” Jazz tugged at her mother-of-pearl earring fashioned into the shape of a crab. “Not even a Nobel-prize-winning geneticist can make money as fast as you spend it. By the way, did they pay him when they put him on the cover of
Newsweek?
I always wondered if they paid anything.”
    Mona’s voice was polished steel. “Don’t mention Robert’s name here again. When we’re together, we’re writers. She’s Dallas Dior. For our purposes, Robert Beaudreaux doesn’t exist.”
    “For my purpose, he hardly exists,” Dallas said, trying to take the sting out of Mona’s reprimand. “The answer is no. He didn’t even think to ask.”
    Jazz nodded. “Sorry, Mona, you’re one hundred percent right. As writers we must not allow the mundane world to control us.”
    A moment of silence fell over the table as the waiter brought drinks for everyone. Mona lifted her glass. “To us, to creativity, to making our dreams come true.”
    “Here, here.” They clinked glasses and drank.
    Mona cleared her throat. “I’m sorry to report that this is our last meeting here. We’ve been asked not to return.” She hushed the moans. “We need a place, a private place to meet. Perhaps someone’s home?” She paused three beats. “Unfortunately, my research prevents me from offering the use of my house.”
    Andromeda shook her head. “My mother.” Coco gulped a swallow of water. “My roommate would die!”
    Dallas shrugged. “Robert hates company.” All eyes swung to Jazz.
    “What about it?” Mona asked. “You’re newly divorced. No husband or