Shopping for a Billionaire 4 Read Online Free PDF

scowl and trickle out of the room.
    The fire marshal is noticeably relieved.
    Mom is in the middle of the group. Their hands and throaty sounds of comfort are so kind that I can’t hold back. Grief and fear and reproach and regret pour out of me in a string of sobs so disjointed they sound like a new modern music composition.
    And then the questions begin. Oh, the questions.
    “Did he cheat on you? I read an article in Science News about how men with higher status cheat on their mates more than men with lower social status and income. So maybe you need to aim lower.” 
    Aim lower?
    Corrine jostles Agnes hard enough for the two to look like bone-thin weeble-wobbles, frantically grasping at each other to avoid falling. Two other women in the group help them to stay upright.
    “That’s silly,” Corrine grouses. “I’ve known men who were gas station attendants making minimum wage who were cheaters. You don’t need to be a billionaire.”
    “He didn’t cheat on me,” I say, sighing. Every attempt to catch Mom’s eye is met with the careful avoidance Mom has honed with the care of a neurosurgeon removing a tumor with tendrils that spread out like the Flying Spaghetti Monster.
    “Bad in bed?” Agnes asks. Every eyebrow is arched now. All breathing has paused. Enraptured, the crowd slowly closes in as if I’m about to spill the salacious details.
    “Uh, no.”
    One big exhale. “Good. Last thing I need is to have that fantasy destroyed.”
    What?
    “If you’re going to date a hot, rich man he’d better be good in bed, too. Otherwise, the myth is as boring as sleeping with a guy who thinks taking out the garbage for you is foreplay and whose idea of cuddling is to reach over you afterward to grab the TV Guide .”
    “Ladies!” Mom claps her hands. It’s the sound of rescue. “Time to get started.” She looks like a blonde Michelle Bachmann teaching pre-schoolers. Crazy eyes and big smiles abound. 
    “Wait, Marie,” Agnes shouts. She’s wearing magenta lycra bike shorts and a t-shirt that says [insert funny saying]. Seriously—that’s what it says. Just the brackets and “insert funny saying.” I like Agnes more and more every time I see her. “We need to know more about Declan. Why did you two break up?”
    Mom ignores her. “Some of you have already met her, but this is my middle daughter, Shannon. She’s the one who dated a billionaire and then she pretended to be a lesbian for her job and got outed.” 
    Oh. My. God.
    The old woman next to me pats my hand. “It gets better, dear.”
    “Lesbians?” another old woman sniffs. “We didn’t have those when I was younger.” 
    “Oh, she’s not really gay. She just acts like it when she has to do mystery shops. And when she ruins her life.” Mom fluffs her hair and turns to her iPod, poking the screen. Languid music fills the air, but it’s not enough to stop the lambs from screaming in my head.
    Corrine’s face lights up. “If he thinks you’re a lesbian, then here’s your solution: call your wife and call Declan and offer him a threesome.”
    Disturbing murmurs of assent fill the air. Even the fire marshal is listening now.
    Especially the fire marshal.
    “Every man wants two women at once,” Agnes adds.
    “We tried that once,” Mom says. The entire crowd turns its focus to her. While it’s a relief to be out from under scrutiny, having Mom talk about her and Dad getting it on with another woman is about as much fun as going to a feminist rally with Robin Thicke.
    “You did?” someone asks. The fire marshal is now leaning against the wall. Pretty soon I expect to see him smoking a cigarette and talking about how this was the best capacity check he’s ever had. 
    “We were going to go to one of those meet-up things where you find other people online who have the same, uh…tastes.” Mom makes actual eye contact with me for a second and it appears—sweet Jesus!—even she has an oversharing limit.
    “What happened?” I