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Margo laughed. "You've just described my dream man. We should go hunting together. Maybe we can snag a couple of Google engineers. Computer geeks are my favorite type."
"You're on, sister." Jaz high-fived her.
When they returned to the living room, Margo looked around for the bugs Jasmine had hinted at, but the truth was that she wouldn't know one if it stared her in the face and maybe not even if it landed on her nose. What she knew about spyware came from books and not the illustrated type.
Given that she called herself a conspiracy theorist, that was a gap in her education that she needed to rectify. How could she talk about conspiracies if she didn't know the first thing about espionage?
Nevertheless, Margo could tell that cutting-edge technology was seamlessly integrated into every corner of the suite, with a smart system controlling everything from the lighting to the curtains covering the huge floor-to-ceiling windows. The bar in the corner of the living room was stocked with an array of premium bottles, and there was even a kitchen tucked behind a discreet door where the staff could prepare private meals for the guests of the suite.
"It's too large for just the two of us." Jasmine opened the sliding doors to the terrace. "We have the entire floor to ourselves, and this balcony wraps around the suite. We have the ocean on one side and the city on the other."
"So, this is how the rich live." Margo felt as if she had stepped through the looking glass into another world.
"I'm not rich." Jasmine dragged one of the patio chairs all the way to the railing, where the nearby waterfall was indeed loud enough to drown out their conversation.
Margo hefted the other chair and brought it next to the one Jasmine was sitting on. "I wonder where he could have planted bugs out here."
"You've just said it. The planters," Jaz said without hesitation. "I checked under the chairs and tables, so I know those are clean, but I didn't want to get my hands dirty by sifting through the soil."
It seemed like Jasmine had given this a lot of thought, which once again raised Margo's hackles.
"Were you expecting to invite someone up here?"
"No." Jaz crossed her legs. "I was just curious to what lengths Alberto's possessiveness and jealousy would go. I was afraid to search the interior because I didn't want him to realize that I was suspicious, but out here, it was easier. I pretended to be concerned with real bugs, the type that crawled. If he was watching, I gave him a very convincing show of fearfully checking under the chair and jumping with a scream when I saw a suspicious speck."
Imagining what Jaz had described made Margo laugh. "I hope you added a few juicy curses to make it seem even more convincing."
"I did." Jasmine tossed a lock of hair behind her shoulder. "I acted in school and college productions, so I'm a semi-professional actress."
"Is that what you do for a living?"
Margo hadn't seen Jasmine in any movies, but she couldn't claim that she had seen them all.
"When I get lucky, I play in commercials," Jaz said. "The rest of the time, I work in customer service. I'm the one people call when they don't understand their electrical bill."
"That sounds even more boring than what I do."
"Which is?"
Margo sighed. "I work at an advertising agency, but that sounds much more glamorous than it is. I'm an assistant, which is another term for a paid servant. Whatever my boss says, I do. Thankfully, she is not a total bitch, but she's a workaholic and thinks that everyone around her needs to put in just as much effort even though we are paid a fraction of what she gets."
"Life is not fair." Jasmine pushed to her feet. "Can I get you a drink?"
"Water or Coke would be great. I'm still a little tipsy from that Cadillac Margarita."
"Yeah, me too." Jasmine walked into the living room, leaving Margo alone on the terrace to admire the view.
"It's good to be a queen," she murmured. "Except, neither of us is royal."
11
NEGAL
Negal walked through the sliding doors onto the Lido deck with Gertrude's phone number in his contacts, a promise of a dance at the wedding, and a much better mood.
He wanted to check up on Karen and see whether she was showing any early symptoms of the transition, but he didn't want to call Gilbert because it felt too intrusive. Perhaps the couple or one of their many relatives were enjoying a drink by the pool so he could casually inquire about her.
On second thought, he should limit the inquiry to the people who knew for sure what went down last night, and that was a much smaller group. One of them was Max, and he spotted the Guardian sitting at the bar and talking with one of his friends. Negal walked over and sat down on Max's other side.
