Page 1 of The Best of Friends

One

“No gold-digging for me… I take diamonds! We may be off the gold standard someday.”

—Mae West

THERE WERE TWO TYPES of people, Jayne Scott told herself as she hurried from the waiting car toward the international terminal at the Los Angeles airport. Those who skated through life never spilling coffee on themselves, or tripping, or showing up at the wrong time for the wrong event. And the rest of the world. As she dabbed at the growing damp spot on her shirt, left by her grande nonfat latte, Jayne knew exactly into which camp she fell.

She scanned the crowded arrivals area, ignoring the dozens of different languages, the happy families reuniting, the couples in love. Instead, she looked for a tall, beautiful blonde with an excessive amount of luggage and a half dozen or so minions. Seconds later she spotted two porters with overflowing luggage carts, a burly guy with a briefcase chained to his wrist, and a head-turning woman wearing leather pants and a leopard duster. Rebecca always did like to make an entrance.

Jayne waited until her friend spotted her, then waved.

“I’m late,” Rebecca called, then hurried forward and hugged her. “I got stuck in customs. They thought I was a jewel thief. Don’t you love that?”

“Anyone offer to do a strip search?” Jayne asked, hugging her back and inhaling a custom-blended floral perfume.

Rebecca straightened and wrinkled her nose. “No, and I didn’t want anyone to.”

“No one cute enough?”

“Pretty much. Jayne, this is Hans, my bodyguard.”

The burly guy barely made eye contact before returning to scanning the crowd.

Jayne glanced at the briefcase in his hand. “You couldn’t use a courier service like everyone else?” she asked, leading the way to the waiting limo. “You had to bring them yourself?”

“That’s what the customs people said. They lack imagination.”

“Or maybe they were overwhelmed by seeing a couple million in loose gemstones.”

“I’m a jewelry designer. It’s what I do.”

“If you were a ship builder, would you travel with a three-ton hull?”

“Of course not. Ships are so last year,” Rebecca said, linking arms with Jayne. “Thanks for coming to meet me. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too.”

They walked out to the waiting limo that Jayne had arranged. She’d known better than to bring her own car. Not only did Rebecca prefer to travel in style, there was no way all the luggage would fit in Jayne’s Jetta.

Rebecca stared at the vehicle with approval. “It’s a stretch limo.”

“I know you love them.”

“Wait until you see the place I rented in Santa Monica! It has a view of the ocean and everything. I’ll have to get a car, of course. Everyone needs a car in L.A.”

“You could just hire the limo permanently. It could go with you everywhere.”

Rebecca slid in the backseat, then looked up at her. “Now you’re mocking me.”

“I can’t help myself.” Jayne settled next to her. “Do you want to talk about your mother now or later?”

“How about never?”

“She’s the reason you’re back.”

“I’ve returned to announce myself,” Rebecca said, leaning back in the leather seat. “To reintroduce myself to society after a ten-year absence.”

“You’re here to be a pain in her ass.”

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