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her,” I said.
    “See, great minds think alike.”
    I had to admit the idea was tempting. I did miss sex more than I thought I would, and I’d already run through all of the new releases at Blockbuster.
    “Where am I supposed to find this hot-yet-dumb guy? I’m too old for the bar scene,” I said.
    “Just ask, and the universe will provide,” Owen said.
    “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”
    “I thought so, too, at first, but Anton has been on a real kick about the power of positive thinking and it’s rubbing off on me.”
    Anton was Owen’s boyfriend. He spent a lot of time meditating, and had a kooky New Age theory for just about everything. His life philosophy was that you should never work even a single day in a job you don’t love, so he was chronically unemployed and had been mooching off Owen for years. I’d always thought that Owen could do better, but since there wasn’t a tactful way for me to express this opinion, I kept my mouth shut.
    “What if the universe just sends me another closeted gay man?” I asked.
    “That’s where it comes in handy to have a gay friend. We come equipped with Gaydar. Just point me at your man, and I’ll let you know his orientation,” Owen promised.
    “I could have used your Gaydar with Scott,” I said.
    “Yeah, yeah. I think it was on the blink. But I really only met him briefly, once at your wedding and once when I ran into you at the Arboretum, and both times he shied away from me,” Owen said.
    “I can’t imagine why,” I said dryly. During the course of my marriage, I’d attempted to set up a few dinners with Owen and Anton, but Scott had always had an excuse for not wanting to socialize with them. Since I preferred to see Owen without Anton anyway, I never pushed it, but I’d wondered at the time if Scott’s reluctance to get together with them might stem from some latent homophobia. Now I knew it was just another sign that I should have clued into.
    One of the soft cruelties of divorce is that you’re forever digging up memories and reexamining them in the light of the split.
    “Thanks for the Gaydar offer, but I don’t think I’ll need it. I’ll admit, the idea of a fling does sound tempting, but I can’t think of anything less appealing than going on yet another first date with some pompous asshole who will undoubtedly spend the entire night talking about himself, and then afterwards try to paw at my breasts in the front seat of his car,” I continued.
    “Well then, stay away from the pompous assholes. Find someone who’s totally not your type, and keep it as anonymous and uncomplicated as you can,” Owen said. “But I’m telling you, you need to get laid, kiddo. You need it bad.”
    Chapter Four

    “I’m willing to chip in some for the kids, but I don’t see why she should get anything. I’ve supported her for twelve friggin’ years, while she sat at home on her ass. Mrs. Hector is . . . what do you call it? Underemployed? She’s under-employed. It’s time that bitch got a job and supported herself,” John Hector announced, thumping his hand on the walnut conference table for emphasis.
    I took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly. If it wasn’t bad enough that my asshole client kept referring to his wife as “that bitch” or the slightly less hostile “Mrs. Hector,” or that he was trying to wriggle out of paying child support for his own kids, it was his fault that the Hectors were getting divorced in the first place. Alicia Hector had tossed her husband out when she discovered he was cheating on her. With the twenty-year-old babysitter. While Alicia Hector was five months pregnant. Which was actually rather a fascinating phenomenon, because her husband was a short, fat, hairy little pimple of a man, and it was stunning to think that a young girl would find him even remotely attractive.
    I dearly wished that Alicia had been the one to hire me, instead of John, because I would have so enjoyed ripping him into