Page 16 of Sinner’s Game

“Even if Mr. Crenshaw included a picture when Mr. Big got your application, I doubt he’d recognize you. Your hair was still short back then, right? Wasn’t it a pixie cut, and mostly pink?”

She’s right. When I’d returned to Laguna Cortez after a short stint as a buyer for a boutique in Los Angeles, I had a completely different look. I’d been coming off a crappy non-relationship with an LA guy who I thought was great but turned out to be a big jerk. Since that seemed to be a pattern in my life, I figured the only way to change the men in my life would be to change the me in my life.

So I went to a fancy salon, had my hair cut daringly short, then dyed it a pale shade of pink. It was fun and sassy, making me look like the kind of woman who flirted confidently and easily with men.

Except I was still me. There was no magical change in my personality. No movie montage where I suddenly morphed into a woman who was confident and comfortable around men.

Funny how that happens.

So I grew my hair out, kept only minimal color on the tips, and tried to convince myself that LA Guy’s jerkiness was his flaw and nothing to do with me. Then I settled into my mostly-non-dating life.

All of which meant that there was really no reason for Mr. Big to recognize me at all. Ellie must be right. It was just a weird, coincidental case of mistaken identity. Freaky but benign.

“If it’s really bugging you, why not talk to the management company? Mr. Crenshaw would surely reach out to him for you.”

I shake my head, the idea mortifying. “And make him think that he freaked me out that much?”

“He did freak you out that much. Maybe he should be made aware of the excessive strangeness.”

“No. No, it’s fine. Jake!” I add, calling him back from where he’s getting too close to the surf. “Frisbee!”

He bounds in circles, finds the fallen Frisbee again, then starts trotting back to us. As I watch him, a horrible thought occurs to me.

“What if…” I begin, turning back to Ellie. But I trail off, unable to let myself even think those words.

“What?” Ellie presses.

“Nothing,” I say, taking the Frisbee from Jake and letting it soar again. I watch as it floats away, jealous of how carefree both the disc and the dog are.

“Brandy…”

“Sorry. It’s just—I don’t know.”

She cocks her head and stares me down. “Give.”

“Fine, fine.” The words come out in a whisper, too horrible to speak aloud. “What if he’s in town because he’s moving back in? And he acted all weird because it was so awkward to see me before they give me notice.”

“No way,” she says, but I see the way her mouth curves down into a frown, and I know she’s considering the possibility.

“No,” she repeats, shaking her head. “Not going to believe it. And even if it is true, you know we’ll find you a place. Besides, Gail would have said something, even if she wasn’t supposed to.”

“You think?”

“Absolutely.”

I draw a deep breath, a bit mollified. “Okay. Right. My landlord might be a crazy person, but he’s not evicting me. I hope,” I add with a grimace.

“It’s going to be fine,” she assures me, which is sweet but hollow since she doesn’t know the sitch any more than I do. “I need to run,” she adds.

“Us, too. Jake!” I call, watching my four-legged bestie romp in the surf. “Come on, boy! Time to go!”

He trots back obediently, and I attach his leash.

“Oh, now he’s sad.”

I laugh. “Yeah, well, he may still have boundless puppy energy, but I don’t.” After over an hour of watching Jake romp in the sand and chase the Frisbee, my arm aches from the exertion.

“Call me later and give me an update on your sink.” She winks, and I roll my eyes. Then she pulls me into a hug before reaching down to scratch Jake’s head. “Take care of your mommy,” she tells him. “Seriously, call me.” She holds her fingers up to her mouth and ear as she starts to walk backwards.