Omigod. Kandi was right. Homicidal maniacs were lurking at every corner. I’d been a fool not to take her seriously.

“Jaine?”

I whirled around to face my assailant.

Thank heavens, it was only Lance.

“I thought it was you, Jaine, but I wasn’t sure.”

“Lance! I thought you were a sex pervert about to attack me.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, hon. But I’m saving all my sexual perversions for Jim. Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine as soon as my heart starts beating again.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m fine. Really.”

After assuring Lance I wasn’t on the verge of a coronary, we said goodnight and I let myself into my apartment. I fed Prozac her midnight snack of minced mackerel guts, then brushed and flossed my teeth and climbed into bed. (Okay, so I didn’t floss, but I promise I will tomorrow.)

I turned on the TV and surfed for a while, but I couldn’t concentrate. I couldn’t stop thinking about SueEllen and how badly she treated Heidi. I thought about how she’d humiliated her at dinner, refusing to let her eat dessert, and making her sit there while she oohed and aahed about how delicious it was. I thought about her cruel nose job crack at Neiman’s. And finally, I thought about how she’d repainted Heidi’s bedroom, destroying her one last connection to her mom.

I thought about all this, and I wanted to kill her.

Little did I know that someone else was about to beat me to it.

Chapter Seven

It was the night of Heidi’s birthday party, and as I drove my Corolla up the Kingsleys’ circular driveway, I felt like Cinderella showing up at the ball in a bruised pumpkin. Mine was the only non-luxury car for miles around. In fact, the driveway bore a striking resemblance to a Mercedes dealership.

I checked my reflection in my rearview mirror. I’d spent a good twenty minutes blowing out the curls in my hair, and I was pleased to see they were still being held at bay. I got out of the car, smoothing my silk pantsuit. Kandi would have been disappointed to know that the pants had an elastic waist, but it was hidden under a flowing jacket. Actually, it was a very flattering outfit; if I held in my stomach and stopped breathing, I could maybe pass for a size 8.

A stunning actor/valet parker came trotting to my side.

“You with the catering staff?” he said, eyeing my Corolla as if it were a waterbug. “If so, you’ve got to park down the street.”

“No,” I huffed, with all the dignity I could muster. “I’m a guest.”

At least I hoped I was. For all I knew, SueEllen would be whisking me out of my pantsuit and into a waitress’s uniform.

I watched as the valet took my car and drove off down the driveway, no doubt to park it on another street, perhaps in another town, so as not to contaminate the Mercedes.