Snare of the Fowler

By Two Lemon Women

An accountant searching for clues to wrongdoing in a company’s books? An archangel arriving just in time to help save her life? A licensed minister and an MBA in accounting coming together to cowrite this novel? No, Snare of the Fowler is a wild ride that is definitely not your typical thriller. It is so much more…

Imani Richards, a forensic accountant, is on the job of a lifetime: consulting with the FBI on an investigation into a pharmaceutical company that may be involved in drug trafficking and money laundering. Then everything goes sideways. The FBI’s suspicions seem to be confirmed when Imani’s life is threatened, more than once. Someone is clearly trying to scare her off the case. Desperate, Imani recites a powerful prayer of protection, Psalm 91, that she learned as a child. And it works! More than that, this thriller takes a sharp, exciting turn, as Imani learns that this scripture has unlocked a power within her—and she discovers a supernatural destiny no one could have believed possible.

Two Lemon Women are the coauthors of Snare of the Fowler and use their unique professional experience—one as a minister and the other as an accountant—to shape this powerful page-turner. More than a work of fiction, the novel presents to readers the possibility that we can all have supernatural powers if we learn to tap into the right power source.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Outskirts Press
• Release date: Jan 16, 2024
• ISBN: 9781977271693

Two Lemon Women

About the Author: Two Lemon Women is a mother/daughter writing team with extensive experience in accounting and a fanatical love for thriller and fantasy books. Originally from Detroit, Michigan, they now reside in Arizona, where they are enthusiastically awaiting the birth of their first great/grandchild.

Book preview

Snare of the Fowler

All Rights Reserved.

Copyright © 2024 Two Lemon Women

v2.0

This is a work of fiction. The events and characters described herein are imaginary and are not intended to refer to specific places or living persons. The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or thoughts of the publisher. The author has represented and warranted full ownership and/or legal right to publish all the materials in this book.

This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Outskirts Press, Inc.

http://www.outskirtspress.com

Library of Congress Control Number: 2023916363

Cover Photo © 2024 www.gettyimages.com. All rights reserved - used with permission.

Outskirts Press and the OP logo are trademarks belonging to Outskirts Press, Inc.

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

PROLOGUE

2010

The man stared out the tiny window above his head as he lay in the tiny bed in terrible agony. He held the two pain pills in the palm of his horribly mangled hand. The pills were damp. He had spat them out of his mouth as soon as the caretaker left the room. He knew that per the facility’s policy the aide was required to verify he swallowed the pills when they were administered, but he could see the revulsion all over the faces of anyone and everyone who entered his quarters. No one wanted to look him in the eye. No one wanted to touch him. No one wanted to talk to him. This was fine with the man. He did not want to be ogled, he did not want to be touched, and he did not want to talk. In fact, he had not spoken a word since the fire.

Eighty-seven percent of his body was covered in second- and third-degree burns. He had been stitched together like a macabre patchwork quilt of synthetic and cadaver skin grafts from head to toe. He no longer had hair, eyebrows, or eyelashes. His ears, nose, and mouth were horribly misshapen. The doctors had very little to work with during reconstruction surgery because they had been burned off when the flames exploded in his face. His hands were missing several fingers, so he practically had no use for them. His feet were so severely burned during the fire that the rubber on his shoes, which were fused to his feet, had to be scraped off. Walking was now so painful that most of the time he refused to even try.

During those several agonizing months in the hospital, as his body tried to recover, there were many setbacks. He had lost count of the number of surgeries he endured. His body continued to reject skin grafts, but the doctors persisted. They tried over and over to put him back together like a jigsaw puzzle. He had so many infections and adverse reactions to medications that he was brought to the brink of death several times. His suffering was so great, he wished they would have just let him die. His pain was so excruciating that as he drifted in and out of drug-induced delirium, he would pray for death. The rare moments of lucidity sent him into shock because his body could not tolerate the horrendous pain.

Now as he lay in his tiny bed, staring out the tiny window, as a useless mass of mangled tissue, the pain had become his friend. The pain drove him. The pain sustained him. Even the smell of burnt flesh that was always with him provided a strange comfort. For it was the constant pain and the constant smell that motivated him and fueled the only reason he had left to live. Revenge.

Isaiah 43:2: When thou passest through the water, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee: when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

EPILOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

2015

Imani

Imani Richards was exhausted as she sat waiting in the lobby of the New York headquarters of the Federal Bureau of Investigations. It had been a very long week, and this was her last stop before heading back home to Arizona. Imani was a forensic accountant who was the majority partner in her accounting firm, Richards & Associates LLC. She had been in New York for a three-day conference on anti-money laundering as the keynote speaker. Even though she was only thirty-six, she was deemed to be an expert in her field. She was the published author of several articles and essays and was highly sought after to speak at these types of forums. She was also occasionally enlisted to consult on financial crime cases for the FBI, which was why she was currently waiting in their lobby.

Her meeting was with Jimmie Schaefer, the assistant director of the Northeast Financial Crime’s Division. Imani met Jimmie when she was working as a first-year analyst at one of the big four accounting firms. She, along with a group of five other first- and second-year analysts, was chosen to participate in a case study. For the exercise, they were provided the financial records of a fictitious multibillion-dollar firm to review. The company structure was extremely complex, and the number of financial records the group was provided was massive. In the beginning, Imani and her colleagues were thrilled. They knew they had been chosen because they were the top performers of their respective teams. They were optimistic and confident they would be able to solve the case or meet the objective of the assignment, which was never fully explained. The group was simply told they would be given four weeks to opine on the data and document their findings.

After the third week of working sixteen hours a day, six days a week, everyone was ready to pull their hair out and throw in the towel. But one day something clicked for Imani. They had all figured out that the firm was using a market-to-market accounting strategy. This meant that the firm would measure the value of their assets based on the projected or market value instead of the current or actual value, essentially resulting in the firm claiming profits on their books before they were actually earned. Where the team was stymied was determining how the firm accounted for losses when an asset earned less than the projected amount. It was not clear how they were posting their losses, until Imani noticed something. She came across a few entries that showed the firm had transferred stock, which was valued higher than it was worth, to several off-balance sheet special purpose accounts in exchange for cash or notes. Imani deduced that the firm was simply hiding the debt by transferring it as overvalued stock to these SPAs.

When it was time to discuss their findings, the team was asked to give a presentation to the department heads of the accounting firm as well as Jimmie Schaefer and his team. As Imani began to walk through her findings, Jimmie abruptly interrupted her presentation and ordered her to follow him. She freaked out, thinking she was being taken into custody. Instead, he took her into a conference room and asked her to walk through her findings in minute detail. For two days she sat in the conference room with Jimmie and his team, while she was grilled relentlessly. At the conclusion of the assignment, she was given special recognition for solving the case. Jimmie gave her his card and told her to call him if she ever had any interest in working for the FBI. It wasn’t until almost a year later that the scandal regarding Enron and Arthur Anderson broke. Imani never knew if the case she worked on had anything to do with Enron, but she recognized there were a lot of similarities as details of the scandal emerged.

That had been over fifteen years ago. Since then, Imani and Jimmie’s paths had crossed many times. He tried to convince her to join the FBI, but she was not interested. She was determined to own her own accounting firm. Since he could not convince her to join his team directly, he recruited her as a paid consultant for the FBI. He took her under his wing and became her mentor and constantly marveled at her brilliant young mind and keen eye for details.

Jimmie, who was in his late sixties, came out of his office to greet her. He grabbed her up in a big bear hug, practically lifting her off the ground.

Imani! I am so glad you’re here! It’s so good to see you! he bellowed in a deep, rich voice.

He reminded her of the late senator, Ted Kennedy. He had bright blue eyes and a full head of crazy white hair that seemed to have a mind of its own. His face could go from sweet and kind to downright frightening in milliseconds. He was six feet two, with broad shoulders, and he towered over Imani, who was just a hair over five feet. He was getting slightly soft in the middle, but still made for a formidable figure.

Hi Jimmie, it’s so good to see you too! Imani said as she squeezed him back. She loved his hugs.

Come on in. He motioned her toward his office. Do you want me to get you anything?

No, thank you. I’m fine.

His office was tastefully decorated in rich earth tones. It contained a large mahogany desk with three chairs facing a large window with a spectacular view of midtown Manhattan. There was also a worn leather armchair with a small matching sofa. Imani sat down on the sofa. She kicked off her shoes and tucked her feet under her. Jimmie took off his jacket, rolled up his shirt sleeves, and sat in the armchair. The scene was reminiscent of a father and daughter sitting together at home to catch up on the events of the day.

Jimmie was the closest thing to a father figure Imani ever had, as she never knew her father. It was obvious the feeling was mutual. Jimmie had one son, Jimmie Jr., so he would often refer to her as the daughter I never had. He was very protective and never hesitated to express how proud he was of her.

So, how have you been, my dear? It’s been almost six months since Colleen, and I have heard from you. You know, you don’t have to wait for me to bug you about a case before you reach out to us, Jimmie said.

I know, Jimmie. I am so sorry. Running an accounting firm takes up way more time than it probably should. I always have it on my list to call you two, but the days just get away from me.

You’re not working too hard, are you? Don’t answer that. I know you are.

You’re right. Imani laughed. I probably need to slow down. But it’s no excuse. I’ll do better. I really miss you and Colleen. How is she doing by the way?

She’s still Colleen. She keeps threatening to leave me if I don’t retire. I keep telling her she’ll probably leave me if I do. Jimmie chuckled. She misses you too.

I’ll call her before I leave today. Next time I’m in town, I’ll be sure to make time to visit her.

She’d love that.

So, what’s this case about? Imani asked.

Have you ever heard of MOCHS Dynamics?

No. What is it?

It is a pharmaceutical company. They specialize in health and fitness products, you know, vitamins, supplements, energy powder and the like.

You know what? Now that you say that, I realize I have heard of them before. They have a location just a few miles from me, and some of my friends and employees swear by their energy powder, Imani said.

It’s pretty popular with the young people around here too. Well, we received an anonymous tip that they may be a front organization for an illegal drug operation. The SEC started investigating the firm but eventually turned it over to us. When we received the case, I immediately thought of you.

Interesting. I don’t think I’ve ever worked on a case involving a pharmaceutical company. This could be a great learning opportunity.

I can see those wheels already turning through those big eyes of yours. Jimmie smiled.

Imani chuckled. She was indeed already strategizing in her head.

But I have to caution you. Jimmie turned serious. This case is not without some risk. Before you agree to take it, I want you to think long and hard.

What do you mean?

This company could be part of a major drug cartel. These cartels are some nasty folks, Imani. We are talking drugs, illegal weapons, and human trafficking. It’s a deadly business. The investigators on these types of cases are often placed on high alert because they tend to receive threats.

What kind of threats? Imani asked with concern.

Death threats. Many of these threats are just scare tactics and are not usually credible. But I can’t lie to you, there have been casualties, Jimmie said.

Imani shifted in her seat. The wheels began to turn in her head again, but this time in a different direction.

But these threats don’t usually extend to consultants. Jimmie leaned in toward Imani. Since your contract is highly classified, it is not likely that anyone beyond the team would even know that you are on the case. There is one other thing. He paused briefly before continuing. I have been getting some pushback about bringing you on the case.

Why would anyone give you pushback? Imani stiffened and pursed her lips. As far as I know, I have always delivered.

Of course you have. They gave me some song and dance about the sensitive nature of the case and that as a civilian you don’t have the appropriate level of security clearance. I have some suspicions there may be more to this case than meets the eye. When top brass starts talking about ‘security clearance,’ that usually means government officials may be involved, and they want to avoid a potential scandal, Jimmie said.

Well, now you know I definitely want to work on this case, Imani said.

And I think you should. Jimmie chuckled. Turning serious again, he continued, We need someone with your particular talent and skillset. I was ultimately able to get the go-ahead because I have some pull with the director. If you agree to take on the case, we will have to get you the appropriate clearances before we can grant you access to the documentation. But again, I want you to really consider the risks. Jimmie took Imani’s hands into his and looked into her eyes. I believe that you are the perfect person for this job. And, if you help us solve this case, it would be huge for your career. However, you know that Colleen and I love you like a daughter. I could never forgive myself if anything happened to you.

Thank you, Jimmie. Imani’s eyes teared up. I really appreciate the transparency. You know that I adore you and Colleen. You’re my family. I must admit, I am a little anxious about the potential dangers, but you know me well enough to know that I can’t walk away from this opportunity.

I know, Imani. Jimmie sighed heavily. I know.

It will be fine. Imani stood up and held her arms out to Jimmie. I will be ever vigilant in trying to stay out of harm’s way, and we’ll just have to trust God to take care of the rest.

Yes. He stood up and took her into his arms. We will trust God to take care of the rest. He then pulled away and walked over to his desk. As soon as your clearance gets approved, I’ll send over the files you’ll need to get started. In the meantime, let’s call Colleen before you leave, he said, picking up the phone.

CHAPTER TWO

Imani arrived at the airport two hours before her flight. After checking in and going through security, she stopped at the gift shop to buy a diet cherry Pepsi and a spy novel. She debated internally about buying M&Ms. She had been upgraded to first class, so she didn’t really need to buy any food because they would be serving dinner on the plane. But chocolate was her Achilles’ heel. She absolutely had no willpower when it came to chocolate. She was constantly dieting and watching her weight because she always tended to be fifteen to twenty pounds heavier than she wanted to be. While she thought she carried the weight well, she didn’t want to get any bigger. So, she worked out and tried to make healthy food choices most of the time. However, this was not going to be one of those times. She gave in and ended up buying a pack of plain M&Ms for the flight and a pack of peanut M&Ms that she would probably demolish when she got home.

After she made her purchases, she found a seat in a quiet corner near the gate and started reading. She made good traction on the book, but it wasn’t long before fatigue caught up with her. She closed her eyes to catch a quick nap before boarding the plane. As she dozed off, she got a whiff of a very pleasant odor. It was distinctively some sort of male cologne. She opened her eyes to locate the source of the sexy aroma and saw a man preparing to sit down across from her. Imani didn’t think she had seen anything so gorgeous in all her life. He had his back turned toward her at first. She could see that he had large, broad shoulders that tapered nicely into a narrow waist, and he stood well over six feet tall. He was wearing an expensive black suit that was tailored perfectly to fit his body. When he turned around, she got a better look at his dark, rich, coffee-colored skin. He had huge, dark brown, almond-shaped eyes with eyelashes that were so long and thick it just didn’t make any sense. The man was simply a work of art.

Right before he sat down, their eyes met. Imani’s heart skipped a beat. She had to stop herself from licking her lips. They stared at each other for a few seconds; then he looked away as if he hadn’t seen her at all. The spell was broken. Apparently, he was not as impressed with her as she was with him. She was aware that she had sort of a librarian vibe going on. She was wearing a pair of gray slacks with a royal blue twinset, and she had switched out her heels for a pair of black walking shoes. Her hair was up in a messy bun, and she was wearing glasses. Oh well, she thought, apparently this guy isn’t into librarians. She closed her eyes again and tried to get in a little more sleep.

A few minutes before boarding, Imani dashed off to the restroom. There was a line, so by the time she got on the plane, everyone in first class had already boarded. When she stepped on the plane, she noticed that the sexy-smelling guy was seated in the first row. She avoided making eye contact and took her window seat in the third row. After she settled in, she drifted off to sleep as the other passengers continued boarding the plane. She slept through takeoff and woke up thirty minutes into the flight. When she opened her eyes, she stared out the window. The sun was beginning to set, and it made for a beautiful picture in the sky. She noticed that she could still smell the cologne from that guy. Did he bathe in the stuff? She crinkled her nose and turned to look at the person sitting next to her, wondering if they could smell it too. When she looked over, she saw those sexy brown eyes staring directly at her. She was so shocked, she jumped in her seat.

Sorry, did I scare you? He chuckled.

A little bit. She grinned. Have you been sitting there the whole time?

No, I asked the person that was sitting here to switch seats.

Why? she asked. Was something wrong with your seat?

No, I just wanted to sit next to you. He smiled.

Imani sat up straighter in her seat.

So, you just asked a complete stranger to switch seats? What did you say? she asked incredulously.

I said, excuse me, sir. He leaned in close to mimic the conversation. His cologne tickled her nose. But do you see that beautiful woman sleeping next to you? I would like to ask her out on a date. Would you mind changing seats with me?

There is no way you actually said that to a complete stranger. Imani started laughing.

You’re right. He laughed out loud too. I did say that, but Bill is not a stranger. He’s one of my colleagues. He was all too willing to let me sit here. He thinks he’s Cupid. He’s always trying to set me up with someone.

Imani giggled. He was really charming. As she listened to him tell more stories about Bill, Imani noticed his wavy hair and perfectly trimmed goatee. She had to stop herself from reaching out to touch them. She also peeped his sparkly white teeth, and his lips looked soft and kissable. She was mesmerized.

When the captain turned off the seat belt sign, Bill came back and introduced himself.

Hey there, pretty lady. How are you and my good buddy getting along? Bill asked cheerfully.

Your good buddy and I are getting along just fine. Imani smiled. Thanks for switching seats.

Bill winked at the two of them and went back to his seat.

They continued to talk through dinner. Then suddenly the plane started rocking from side to side.

The captain’s voice came over the speaker. Ladies and gentlemen, we are experiencing some heavy turbulence. I am going to turn the seat belt sign back on. Flight attendants, please take your seats.

The plane continued to pitch violently from side to side. Although Imani had been on hundreds of flights, this was the worst turbulence she had ever experienced. For the first time in a long time, she was truly afraid. Okay, Lord, what’s happening? Imani thought. Is this the end? Then she chuckled to herself. Isn’t this just my luck? I finally meet the man of my dreams, and it just happens to be on the same day I end up dying in a plane crash of all things. Several people were crying and screaming in panic. She looked over at the man sitting next to her as he grabbed her hand and bowed his head with his lips moving. Even though she could not hear the words over the noise, she could tell that he was praying. Imani squeezed his hand and closed her eyes as she also prayed silently. The man squeezed back, and in that moment, she felt that they were of one accord.

Eventually the plane straightened out, and the turbulence subsided. The cries and screams quieted down, and a sense of calmness fell over the plane. There was still an hour left on the flight, but Imani couldn’t wait to get back on the ground. She sat there for several seconds and took in deep breaths to try to pull herself together. As she started to relax, she realized that the man was still holding her hand. She didn’t pull away, so they continued to sit quietly holding hands for several minutes.

You know, suddenly he turned to her, we have been sitting here for a while now, talking like old friends, but I don’t think we ever officially introduced ourselves. Here we are holding hands like an old couple, and I don’t even know your name.

She looked down at their hands. His hand was so large that it completely engulfed hers.

You’re right, we didn’t introduce ourselves. My name is Imani Richards.

Imani. That is such a beautiful name. It’s beautiful just like you. It’s Arabic, right? I think it means faith, doesn’t it?

Yes, it does and thank you. Imani blushed, impressed that he knew the meaning of her name.

Nice to meet you. I’m David James.

Ah, like King David. The man after God’s own heart. Well, nice to meet you too, David James.

Look, I hope I am not being too forward, but I would like to get to know you better. Would you be willing to give me your number so I could call you sometime? Maybe we could grab a cup of coffee or go out to dinner?

Imani nodded in response. She couldn’t believe that a man as fine as David had gone to the trouble to change seats just so he could ask for her number. After they landed, she thought about him and smiled the whole ride home.

CHAPTER THREE

Imani and her friends were meeting at her house for Sunday brunch. They tried to meet once or twice a month, whenever their schedules permitted. She had been in a good mood all day. David called her that morning, and they had talked for hours. She was walking on air and couldn’t seem to wipe the goofy smile off her face.

She wasn’t particularly good at cooking, so she had the food delivered from one of her favorite restaurants. She ordered a vegetarian breakfast casserole with spinach, mushrooms, and zucchini, cream-cheese-stuffed French toast, croissants, turkey sausage, and Canadian bacon. She also served fresh strawberries, sliced pineapple, and watermelon alongside a pitcher of sangrias. It was a beautiful sunny day with a light breeze, so she decided to set the food up on a table on the back patio. Her big, perfectly landscaped backyard contained an Olympic-sized pool with flowing waterfalls at each end.

Monica and Elizabeth arrived first. Imani met Monica Boyd when she first moved to Arizona. They had become fast friends because they were the only two Black women in the division of the accounting firm they worked for at the time. Monica had milk chocolate skin with long, thick hair. She was petite like Imani, but where Imani was curvaceous, Monica was very lean. She was built like a ballerina or gymnast. Monica was a stay-at-home mom who never really stayed home because she was highly active in her church and community. She was on several boards and committees for multiple city and statewide organizations. She was always stylishly dressed, and her hair, nails, and makeup were always perfect. While they hadn’t worked together in years, they were still close friends.

Elizabeth Covington owned two restaurants and a catering company. Liz, as she was affectionately called, was an excellent chef. One of her specialties was soul food, which was a little ironic because Liz was white. She was a tall, graceful, willowy blonde with fair skin and blue eyes. Her beauty rivaled that of top supermodels, but Liz always played down her looks and dressed conservatively. She didn’t like to wear a lot of makeup, and she always wore her hair in a short, sleek bob. Monica and Liz had gone to high school together. They lost touch after graduation but reconnected years later.

Kimiko Washington was the last to arrive. This surprised no one as Kimiko was always late. Kimiko was an independent real estate agent who only worked when she wanted to. Imani and Kimiko grew up together in an orphanage in Detroit, Michigan. They told people they were sisters as they were the closest thing to family either of them had. Like Liz, Kimiko looked like a supermodel. She could easily give Naomi Campbell a run for her money. In fact, before moving to Arizona to be near Imani, she modeled professionally in Paris for several years. She had beautiful dark chocolate skin and waist-length, straight black hair. Her mother, who died when she was a young child, was Black, and her father, who she never knew, was Japanese. Her Asian heritage was most evident in the shape of her huge brown eyes. Because of her unique features, Kimiko turned heads wherever she went. Unlike Liz, however, Kimiko was far from conservative. She was always photo shoot ready, and she dressed to flaunt all her assets.

Imani debated whether she should tell the girls about David. They had made plans to go to dinner the following weekend. She was extremely excited about the date and desperately wanted to share her excitement with someone, but she wasn’t sure if she should tell them just yet. Monica would grill her to death and harp on any and everything. If Kimiko wasn’t dating anyone, she would gang up on her with Monica; if she was dating someone, then it would become a contest that Kimiko would have to win. She would have to prove that she had the better catch. Only Liz would be nonjudgmental and supportive. Liz was the go-along-to-get-along member of their group.

After they sat down to eat, everyone except Imani tore into the cream-cheese-stuffed French toast. Whenever the four ladies ate a meal together, it was never lost on her that she was the only one who seemed to be watching her weight. Apparently, the other ladies were blessed with a skinny gene that had not been bestowed on her.

So, Miss Kimiko, you’re looking a little tired. Late night? Monica asked.

My presence is always in high demand; therefore, all of my Saturday nights are late nights, Miss Monica, Kimiko replied sarcastically.

So, what kind of trouble did you get into? It must have been one hell of a night, Monica quipped.

Monica and Kimiko never really seemed to hit it off. Kimiko was in Paris when Imani and Monica became friends. They forged a close friendship, and Monica pretty much had Imani to herself. So, when Kimiko moved to Arizona a few years later and Imani had to split her time between the two of them, Monica became a little jealous. And Kimiko had always been territorial when it came to Imani. Ever since they met at the orphanage, it had been the two of them against the world. Imani was Kimiko’s only friend, and she didn’t like to share.

Imani suspected that there were also issues between the two of them that had nothing to do with her. Monica thought Kimiko was promiscuous, because she dressed provocatively and always seemed to have a different man on her arm. However, Kimiko led a very glamorous life, and was well connected due to her past modeling career. Although Monica was well connected at the local level because she was heavily involved in the community and married to a prominent doctor, she envied Kimiko’s international and celebrity connections. Kimiko, on the other hand, thought Monica was a prudish snob. That said, she desperately wanted a husband like Monica’s.

Well, if you must know, I was at a party. Kimiko rolled her eyes, before continuing excitedly, Now I know I say this every time, but I think that I have finally met the one.

The one what? Imani asked facetiously.

You know, ‘the one.’ The one who will make the perfect husband. Kimiko smiled.

The other ladies threw knowing looks at each other because Kimiko was not exaggerating. Every time she started dating a new man, she would say that he was the one.

Is this someone new or is this still that young NBA player you were dating? Imani asked.

The basketball player was thirteen years younger than Kimiko.

Oh no, girl, I had to drop that dude. One, he is too young; two, he is a little full of himself. He acted like I was the one who should be grateful to have him. I told that boy to go somewhere and sit down with that nonsense. And three, I think he was using drugs, and y’all know how I feel about drugs. Kimiko had zero tolerance for drug users.

The other ladies side-eyed each other again. These were the same arguments they made when they tried to dissuade her from dating the young man in the first place.

Now this guy is totally different. His name is Trent Deck, and he is fifteen years older than me. I am absolutely done with little boys. He has the most luxurious blond hair and beautiful blue eyes. Liz, he could be your cousin or uncle or something. He deals in real estate, so we have that in common. He owns four homes in the States and several across Europe.

Oh wow, Kimiko. He sounds perfect for you. How did the two of you meet? Liz asked gleefully.

We actually met at a party at the NBA player’s house last night, Kimiko replied sheepishly. But in my defense, I had already broken up with him. In fact, Trent overheard the breakup and was just waiting in the wings to swoop me up. When he approached me, he immediately confessed that he had been eavesdropping. He said that he was concerned about me, and he wanted me to know that he was available if I needed a shoulder to cry on. My first instinct was to give him the brush-off because I wasn’t in the mood, but then I saw his shoes.

What was up with his shoes? Monica asked.

They were twenty-thousand-dollar shoes! At least! So, who was I to deny him the opportunity to comfort me in my time of need? Kimiko feigned despair.