“Okay, so meet them at the limo outside of the Cheesecake Factory,” Lucina told him.

“You got them a limo?”

“It was a favor from a friend.”

Ivan chuckled and said, “Okay.” It was a good thing he still had his work clothes on.

When he hung up the phone, already headed in the direction of the fashion mall, he mumbled, “Yeah, she’s full of it. But I’ll find out what I need to know now. She still hasn’t told me enough yet.”

HE ARRIVED at the Fashion Valley Mall off of Interstate 8 and parked his car three rows away from the Cheesecake Factory so he could meet the girls without his car being seen.

A midsized black limo pulled up as soon as he made it over.

“Ivan David?” an older white man behind the wheel asked him at the curb. He had rolled his driver’s-side window down.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Ivan answered.

“Thank you.”

The driver double-parked and climbed out to open the back door for his two passengers. Ivan watched with anticipation along with a small crowd of waiting customers outside of the Cheesecake Factory.

The first young woman climbed out of the limo in orange strap-up heels, an off-white dress, and a large orange belt to match her shoes. She had long beaded jewelry around her neck, with matching earrings and bracelets. Her hair was bleached blond, and she had large dark eyes and tanned skin and carried a dark brown leather Coach bag over her right shoulder. She had an East Coast ruggedness about her.

“Hi,” she said perkily to Ivan. She extended her left hand to him as she reached the curb.

“How are you?” he asked her. “You look lovely enough.” Since he was supposedly wealthy, Ivan kissed the back of her hand like a gentleman.

“Oh, I’m fine, and thank you for the compliment,” she responded. So far, she had good manners, but her look was over-the-top. She was trying way too hard to dazzle.

Ivan flattered her anyway. “No, you deserve it.”

“Well, you don’t look bad yourself,” she responded.

“Thank you,” he told her.

The second young woman climbed out of the limo in dark blue heels and a solid blue dress. She wore silver jewelry with a small silver purse. She was darker than tan, with black wavy hair, a sign of a mixed breed of black. Her tiny dark eyes hinted at Asian blood.

“How are you?” she asked Ivan. When she smiled, her eyes looked even smaller, with dimples on both cheeks. But she never extended her hand to him. She kept her hands wrapped around her small purse.

Ivan said, “I’m good,” and he preferred her look already. She could dress up or down and still kill it with her naturalness.

Ivan’s night of research at the mall had just begun, and all eyes were on them before they even budged.