Page 72 of The Perfect Deception

“Cory and Steve Tin­dal,” Steve said. “Did you at­tend school here?”

“I didn’t, but Dina did.”

Steve un­dressed her with his eyes, while Cory pasted a blank look on her face. Adam wanted to punch them both.

Dina squeezed his hand. “So, what are you do­ing now?”

“Well, I grad­u­ated from Penn State and I’m a lawyer,” Cory said. “You?”

“Har­vard un­der­grad and Uni­ver­sity of Illi­nois with a Mas­ters in Li­brary Sci­ence.”

Adam’s chest swelled with pride as she read­ily ad­mit­ted her in­tel­li­gence. From the looks on Cory’s and Steve’s faces, they were im­pressed. He felt Dina soften next to him.

“That must be why I don’t re­mem­ber you,” Cory said. “You must have been in all the hon­ors and AP classes.”

As they moved on from the cou­ple, Adam snagged two eggrolls from a pass­ing waiter.

“That wasn’t ac­tu­ally too bad,” Dina said be­fore bit­ing into the crispy hors d’oeu­vre. “Es­pe­cially since I was right.”

“I’ll get it right even­tu­ally,” he said. “Who should we tar­get next?”

They met a sec­ond cou­ple and a four­some be­fore Dina stopped in her tracks. “Uh, let’s go over there,” she said, point­ing away from the peo­ple they were head­ing to­ward.

“What’s wrong with that group?”

“I think I rec­og­nize them.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“I’m not sure.”

“They just saw you, so we’re about to find out.” He put his arm around her shoul­ders and faced the woman walk­ing to­ward them. If Bar­bie was a liv­ing per­son, she would be it. Blond hair teased and sprayed to within an inch of its life, big boobs, tiny waist, end­less legs. But for once, he wasn’t at­tracted to her. At all.

“Oh my gosh, I love your dress,” Bar­bie said with a squeal. “Where did you get it?”

Dina gave her the name of the store and Bar­bie scrunched up her nose. “I’ve never heard of it.” She leaned to­ward Dina’s nametag and he’d swear she mouthed the words as she read them.

“Dyna Ja­cobs? I’m not sure…”

“It’s Dina with a long E. We were in a mar­ket­ing class to­gether sopho­more year.”

He felt the ten­sion en­ter her shoul­ders and he mas­saged them.

“Oh, Dina! Meg, Sta­cie, come here! It’s Dina Ja­cobs.”

Her voice could grate cheese and even Adam winced as she yelled. All around them, heads turned and Meg and Sta­cie minced over.

“Dina? I don’t re­mem­ber any Dina,” Meg said, her brassy red hair-from-a-bot­tle over­flow­ing her shoul­ders and em­pha­siz­ing the swell of her breasts in a low-cut black tube of a dress.

“Yes you do, girls,” Bar­bie said. “She was in mar­ket­ing with us.”

“I was drunk in mar­ket­ing,” Sta­cie said. Adam tried not to stare at the rolls of fat squeezed into a red dress at least three sizes too small. When she rubbed up against him, he stepped to the side, push­ing Dina, who stum­bled.

“Sorry,” he mut­tered.

“I’d re­mem­ber you, though,” Sta­cie said, eye­ing him and down. “Want to get me a drink?”

He stepped back at her bla­tant flirt­ing. Dina was right here. “Love to, but Dina and I have some­thing to do first. Nice meet­ing you all.”