How Not to Marry a Billionaire - Ashlee Mallory Page 0,3

live off the profits for an entire year.

“It’s me. Tracey Applewood. Well, it’s Tracey Faulkner now,” she added, lifting her left hand to show off a diamond the size of an actual golf ball.

“Tracey, Tracey, Tracey…” I said, pretending to still place her. “Oh, right. Tracey. From Deerfield High. I remember.”

She smiled widely, her own gaze taking in every pathetic inch of me as well. “You look exactly like I remember.”

Point to Tracey.

“Yeah? You too, maybe just a little older.”

I swear that her eyes were scowling at me, even if her forehead didn’t move a fraction of an inch.

Ha. Point back to me.

The muffled barks of the toy-sized puppy being suffocated under her right boob finally drew her attention away from me. “Oh, pudsy-wudsy, Momma’s so sorry. I’ll be just one more minute.” She looked over to Mr. Sunburn and held the pup out to him. Still holding the phone, he stuck the dog under his arm and continued his conversation. Tracey turned back to me. “So how are you doing these days, Janie?”

“Can’t complain,” I said nonchalantly. “I’m a lawyer now. I’ve been working at a firm downtown but I’m about to open up my own law firm soon.” Which could very well be true—that is, if I could figure out the first thing about running my own business and could find the capital with which to do it.

“You always were the smart girl, weren’t you? Head down in your books, never really experiencing what high school could be about. The parties, the dances, the football games. I always felt a little sorry for you.”

I just bet she had.

“And what about a significant other?” she asked, looking pointedly at my left ring finger.

“Oh, I like to keep my options open,” I said, not about to go into the specifics of breaking up with my two-timing ex-boyfriend. “Work can be so demanding sometimes. And how about you? What are you doing these days?”

She fluttered her long lashes and swept her hair over a shoulder. “Wow. Where do I start? Well, since I married Brody—that’s him, by the way. Wave to my friend, Brody.” Like before, Brody complied with a quick wave. “Anyway, since getting married to Brody, I’ve been doing a million different things. Like decorating our new Tahoe cabin, serving on the board of several influential charitable organizations, not to mention planning dinner parties and events for Brody’s clients and colleagues. Did I mention that Brody is a plastic surgeon? Named one of the premier surgeons three years in a row.”

I could hear the points in our little game of delivering zingers ding loudly above her head with every word she said.

“So you don’t actually have a job.” It was a last-ditch effort to try and save some of my dignity, to try and make her feel a tiny bit inadequate.

“A job?” She laughed. “Who has time for a job? Fortunately, I managed to snag a guy who can take care of me without my having to resort to anything so…menial.”

The heat of the sun was blazing down on my head, bringing beads of sweat dripping down my face and leaving me without a comeback. Game over. She’d won.

“Well, I better be going. I’m prepping for a big case right now, so I better get back to it. It was nice seeing you again, Trace,” I said and started walking away.

“Janie? I think you forgot this.”

I glanced down to see the economy-sized package of cotton underwear still clutched in her hand.

Dang. I just couldn’t catch a break.

“Uh, yeah. Thanks. Catch you later,”

Catch you never, I muttered under my breath a moment later as I trekked home. What had the world come to when I, Jane Elizabeth Carmichael, Esquire, was jealous of the vapid and annoying superficial prom queen?

Armageddon came to mind.

2

“You know, honey, there’s nothing that Tracey Applewood has that you don’t have. You were always prettier than her and oodles smarter,” my mom said as I shoved another square of chocolate in my mouth and lay back into the couch cushions.

Because of my quick hang-up earlier, my mom had been calling my phone nonstop, afraid that I might have been kidnapped and sold into some sort of sex trafficking ring. So as soon as I’d arrived home and brewed a pot of coffee, I’d called her back and quickly relayed what had transpired on the sidewalk.

“Your mistake wasn’t just moving in and living in sin with Eddie before you were married.” Great. She had another reason to harp