chapter 25

“Thanks for meeting me so early.” Malcolm Toth, Jake’s cybersecurity consultant and Lila’s boyfriend, was waiting by the front door of the Naked Finger shortly after dawn the next morning.

“No problem.” Brighton tried to think caffeinated thoughts. “Lila mentioned you do, like, supersecret spy stuff.”

The former marine, who seconds ago had appeared stony faced and imposing, laughed with surprising warmth. “Lila exaggerates.”

“Are you sure? You look pretty badass to me.”

“My badass days are behind me,” he assured her. “But I do need your help with a covert mission. You can’t tell anyone.”

“Okay.” Brighton unlocked the door and ushered him into the showroom.

“Especially Lila.”

She glanced back at him, confused. “Why not? Aren’t you guys pretty close?”

“Yeah, but I want her to be surprised when I propose.”

Brighton whirled around, banging her wrist against the corner of a glass case in the process. “Tell me everything.”

And with that, the last traces of flinty-eyed brusqueness vanished. “You have to keep this on lockdown.”

“Lockdown. Absolutely.” Brighton cradled her injured wrist in her other hand. “But how long do I have to live with this secret eating away at me?”

“Depends how soon I can get the ring.”

“Then let’s get to work.” Brighton snatched up her sketch pad and a pen. “What are you thinking?”

“No idea,” he confessed. “I want to give her a ring she’ll love, and jewelry isn’t my thing.”

Brighton sat down and performed a jewelry-style profile on Lila. “She usually wears classic pieces with a whimsical twist.”

“Whimsical?” Malcolm’s forehead had started to perspire ever so slightly, despite the chill from the air conditioner. “Okay. Let’s go with that.”

Brighton tried to remember the pieces Lila had admired over the past two weeks. “I know she likes Asscher-cut diamonds. We can use one of those for the center stone, flanked by . . . what?”

The marine broke as though Brighton had been interrogating him for hours. “I don’t know. I love her, but I don’t know a damn thing about jewelry.”

“Calm down,” Brighton advised. “Deep breaths.”

“I’ll pay you whatever you want.” Malcolm brandished his wallet. “Just help me.”

Brighton waved this away. “You’re not paying me anything. I’m happy to help. Everything’s going to be fine.”

Malcolm took a minute to pull himself together. “Could we put some red in there somewhere?”

Brighton nodded encouragingly. “Could you be just a tiny bit more specific?”

“We have . . . a history with the color red. Red dresses.” He cleared his throat. “That sort of thing.”

“How about ruby baguettes?” Brighton suggested. “We have a pair of matched ruby earrings. I could take them out of the settings and put one on either side of the center diamond.”

“Sounds good.” He paused, gave her an assessing look, and started to say something several times.

“Spit it out,” she advised. “I’ll keep it in the vault. Literally. We have three fireproof, bulletproof safes in the back room.”

“Is there any way we could include a, uh, needle in the design?”

Brighton strove to maintain a poker face. “What kind of needle?”

“Regular, run-of-the-mill needle.” Was the burly marine blushing?

“Like a sewing needle?”

“Sure, go with that.”

Brighton sat back, mulling her design options. “Well. I guess I could solder a needle along one side of the shank. No one else will be able to tell what it is, though.”

“That’s the point.”

“Consider it done. It’s going to look fantastic.”

“And you won’t say anything to Lila?”

“I’m the soul of discretion. I’ll tell her we sold the ruby studs,” Brighton said. “I’ll write up a receipt for them and you can pay cash. And good news, I’m giving you a screaming deal on them.”

“Then we’re done here.” He visibly relaxed. “That was easier than I thought.”

She smiled. “And here I thought ring selection was the easy part of marriage.”

“Not for men,” Malcolm said. “It’s a toss-up between a jewelry store and a war zone.”

“But you’re here anyway,” she pointed out. “You got it done.”

He stood up and crossed his arms, reverting to macho masculinity. “I’d do anything for her.”

Brighton managed to make it to the back room before she started crying.

•   •   •

“What are you doing here?” Lila looked bewildered when she arrived at the Naked Finger twenty minutes later to find Brighton weeping her way through a box of tissues. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Brighton plucked the last tissue from the box.

Lila put down her purse and waited.

“Nothing!” Brighton broke into hiccups. “Just allergies.”

“Do you want to take the morning off?”

“No.” Brighton drew a ragged breath. “Just give me a minute to splash some cold water on my face and, um, take my allergy meds.”

“Go home,” Lila ordered.

But Brighton didn’t have a home here. She certainly couldn’t go back to Jake’s house. “I need to work. I need to be productive.”

“Then you’re in luck. I have a design job for you.” Lila looked excited, then chagrined. “But this isn’t the right time.”

“Yes, it is. Please, give me a job to do.” Brighton pushed aside the tissue box and reached for her sketch pad.

“You’re sure?”

“Positive. Hit me.”

Lila’s big brown eyes sparkled as she confided, “I want you to help me with a man’s ring. I’m going to ask Malcolm to marry me.”

Brighton froze, her pencil suspended in midair. “You . . . what? Why?”

“Don’t look so scandalized.” Lila laughed. “This isn’t 1850, you know. Malcolm and I haven’t had a conventional courtship. From the very beginning, I broke protocol.” She ticked off her acts of dating defiance on her fingers. “I called him first; I asked him out. I was a shameless hussy, and let me tell you, it is paying off in spades. So I’m thinking the next logical step will be proposing. I’ll take him by surprise. I know he’ll say yes.”

Brighton stopped sniffling. “I’m sure he will. But—”

“I want a simple platinum band, no frills, nothing fancy. That part I can take care of by myself.” Lila’s eyes got even sparklier. “But I want you to engrave the inside. One word: Proliferation.” She grinned. “Don’t ask.”

“Oh, I wasn’t going to.”

“Can you do that?”

“Sure, engraving is simple enough. Just pick a band and I’ll get on it. But—”

Before she could finish her sentence, the shop door swung open and Dumplin’ strutted in. Once again, the busty blonde’s skirt was short, her hair was high, and her entire wardrobe—from hoop earrings to handbag to high heels—was emblazoned with designer logos.

“Oh good, you’re here.” She made a beeline for Brighton, ignoring Lila completely. “I was telling my friend how much I love my new watch.”

Brighton glanced at Dumplin’s companion, then had to do a double take. She recognized the tall, willowy redhead from a slew of romantic comedies . . . and, more recently, from the tabloid covers at the grocery checkout. Clea Cole had dated her way through Hollywood’s A-list before settling down with Carson St. Giles, an actor who contributed to children’s charities when he wasn’t starring in summer action flicks.

But now, after several years of photo-op bliss, Clea and Carson were divorcing.

Lila had mentioned that celebrities occasionally retreated to Black Dog Bay after breaking up with their boyfriends or husbands, but Brighton was still a bit starstruck. She did her best not to stare. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I look like a rap star. That’s a good thing,” Dumplin’ said.

Brighton glanced around. “How’s your . . . gentleman friend doing?”

“Who?” Dumplin’ seemed genuinely mystified for a moment. “Oh, you mean Hiram? We broke up right after I picked up the watch.” Dumplin’ punctuated this with an exasperated sigh and an eye roll.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Brighton murmured.

“Don’t be.” Dumplin’ laughed. “He had truckloads of money, but not enough to pay me to go bass fishing with him all day.”

“Oh,” Brighton said weakly. “Well, that’s . . .”

“I guess if I were a lady, I’d return all the jewelry he bought me, but I figure I’ve earned it.” Dumplin’ let loose with a raucous laugh.

“You are so crass.” Clea Cole finally spoke up. Her voice was as rich and cultured in person as it was on camera.

“Which is why you’ve been my best friend since middle school,” Dumplin’ concluded cheerfully. “Anyway, I want you to make something for my friend here. She’s having a tough summer and she needs some cheering up.”

“Pleased to meet you; I’m Brighton.” Brighton extended her right hand and tried to forget the fact that she’d read all about this woman’s split from her husband during her last visit to the dentist. The actress didn’t appear to be suffering—she looked fantastic even in jeans and a white T-shirt, and the article about her breakup (titled “A Perfectly Pleasant Parting”) had included interviews with her and her ex, both of whom raved about how much they still adored and respected each other. (“We’ve evolved past petty and bitter,” Clea had been quoted as saying. “I’m so grateful Carson has shared this portion of my journey.”)

“I’m Clea.” She leaned in and bestowed a double air-kiss on Brighton. “I’m not quite sure what I’m looking for. Something one of a kind. Amber says you do excellent design work.”

Note to self: Dumplin’ has a name, and it’s Amber.

Brighton looked down and demurred. “Oh, I’d love to, but I’m not going to be working here much longer.”

“What?” Clea and Dumplin’—Amber—both looked outraged. Not to mention Lila. “Why?”

“I’m here on a temporary basis, and my time is up, I’m afraid.” Brighton nodded across the counter. “But this is the store owner, Lila, and she has lots of fantastic designers she works with—”

“No.” Amber slammed her hand down. “We want you.”

Brighton communed with the countertop. “I’m so flattered, but I really—”

“Ooh, what is that?” Clea drifted over to the other side of the showroom.

“What is what?” Brighton joined Lila to see which piece Clea was pointing out.

Lila pulled out the white leather case and handed Clea the massive silver ring. “That’s a poison ring.”

“A poison ring?” Clea sounded delighted. “Is that a real thing?”

“Apparently. I’d never heard of it, either, until Brighton filled me in.” Lila and Clea turned to Brighton, who summarized the history and purpose of poison rings.

The sweet-faced starlet with the voice of an angel broke into a diabolical smirk. “So you could actually kill someone with this?”

“I guess theoretically you could.” Brighton didn’t like the way Clea’s smile broadened. She hastened to add, “If you put actual poison in the chamber, which of course we don’t recommend.”

“Yes,” Lila chimed in. “We don’t endorse homicide here at the Naked Finger.”

The two-time Oscar nominee rubbed her palms together. “Of course not.”

“They’re purely decorative.” Lila sounded a bit panicky.

“A poison ring—I love it. I love everything about it.” Clea examined the stones. “Everything except the actual ring, that is. It’s so big and clunky.” She held the ring aloft and turned it from side to side, considering her options. “Can you make a smaller one? Dainty and feminine, with diamonds and platinum?”

“I could,” Brighton said. “If I were staying through the end of summer. But since I’m leaving and I have a bit of a backlog—”

“What backlog?” Lila demanded.

“Don’t worry about it,” Brighton said.

“I want it.” Clea addressed Lila. “Make this happen. Make her stay and do this.”

Lila turned to Brighton. “Stay and do this.”

“I’ll draw one sketch,” Brighton relented. “But after that—”

“Actually, I want three,” Clea decided. “One for me; two for my friends who are getting divorced. We’ll put lovely designs on the outside—flowers or hearts or something—and our exes’ names on the inside.” She turned to her BFF from middle school. “What do you think? I need something original, meaningful, and still cute.”

“How about a black dog?” Amber suggested. “We’re in Black Dog Bay.”

“Perfect!” Clea exclaimed. “Yes, I want little black dogs on the lids of the poison chambers. Like the dog on the sign at the town border. Can you do that?”

“Sure.” Brighton started sketching. “I could do a little Labrador silhouette in onyx against yellow or white gold. The black dog is kind of a big deal around here. It’s magic.”

Clea leaned in, intrigued. “Magic?”

“Yes.” Brighton tried to recount the snippets she’d heard from the locals. “Supposedly, there’s a phantom dog that appears to you when you’re starting to heal from heartbreak.” She turned to Lila for clarification. “Right?”

“Right. The black dog symbolizes hope and new beginnings. It’s good luck.” Lila glanced down, smiling to herself. “Not really appropriate for a poison ring.”

“That black dog will still mean good luck,” Clea promised. “Good luck for my ex that his lying, cheating ass is still alive.”

Brighton blinked. “What happened to ‘A Perfectly Pleasant Parting’? I thought you and your husband were having some sort of Zen divorce?”

Clea snorted. “I hate that narcissist with undying passion. Everyone warned me about on-set romances, but would I listen? No. I was convinced he was different. I fell in love with the role he was playing, and by the time the mask came off, it was too late—our wedding pictures were on the cover of People.”

“I know just how you feel,” Brighton murmured. “Minus the People cover.”

“And riddle me this: If he’s so damn Zen, why is he fighting me for the Malibu beach house?”

This is how it ends, Brighton realized. This is what happens when you don’t really know the person you marry.

Clea shook her fist. “I need that engraved poison ring and I need it now. And you can do the two for my friends in onyx, but I want my dog made out of black diamonds. With a little green collar made of emeralds.”

“But . . .”

“Shut your mouth and sketch,” Lila hissed.

“We can do pavé with black diamonds,” Brighton muttered as she put pen to paper. A few minutes later, she tore off the sketch and showed it to her audience.

“Exquisite,” Clea declared.

“Masterful,” Lila pronounced.

“Fuckin’ fabulous,” Amber exclaimed. “Cute and cuddly on the outside, lethal on the inside. Just like Clea.”

“I’ll call my bench jeweler and see how soon he can get started once we source materials,” Lila said.

“You do that,” Brighton told Lila. “Meanwhile, I have to track down some intel.”

Lila lowered her voice. “What kind of intel?”

“Intel about the man I married.”

Lila hesitated for a second, then scribbled a name and number on the back of a business card. “Here. You’re helping me; I’ll help you. But use this wisely—remember, you can never unhear what this woman is going to tell you.”