Stuff to Die For Read Online Free PDF Page A

ID. The uniformed guy came out and made us open the back of the truck. I don’t know what he thought he’d find, but he spent a good thirty seconds gazing at the empty bed. Then we drove down the pine-lined winding road, finally pulling in the service entrance at the rear of the sprawling home. Sprawling means probably 20,000 square feet. The house featured an eight-car garage and a pair of tennis courts immediately to its right.
    “Come on around to the front. You won’t believe this.” Em grabbed my hand and James followed close behind.
    We got to the far corner and she said, “Close your eyes.” I did, and she tugged me out front.
    When I opened them, there was a long, deep blue, glistening pool of water that seemed to stretch out forever. The pool was lined with palm trees stretched out perfectly down the length of each side. A marble-tiled patio led up to the house where the porch was supported by eight massive pillars that appeared to be made from the same marble as the patio. Streaks of purple, green, and earth tones meandered in a swirling pattern through the elegantly shaped structure.
    Four glass-topped tables sat on the porch, each with a pitcher and glasses as if a lemonade party were about to begin.
    “Jesus.” I looked up and up at the towering home. Two and three stories high and about ten miles wide. I exaggerate, but at least ten different roof levels looked over the pool. There were angles upon more angles and orange-tiled rooflines that went every which way. I remembered our home, with the one angle where the garage met the house. Flashing was laid under the tiles so the water would run down into the gutter, but it leaked every time it rained, no matter how much caulking Dad put on it. If the angles on Jackie Fuentes’s house leaked the mansion would flood.
    The white stucco gleamed, and through wide-open windows gauze curtains fluttered in a mild breeze.
    “Come on, you’ve got to see this waterfront.” Emily took my hand again and pulled me down to the pool and beyond. I glanced over my shoulder and James was following along behind, looking in every direction, obviously as impressed as I was.
    Fifty yards farther we were at the water’s edge. A sand beach that seemed to run forever stretched out on either side. Blue-green water lapped at the shore, and the soft sand felt so fluid under my feet I was tempted to take off my canvas Sebago shoes and run barefoot as far as I could. The three of us stood there, two of us simply awestruck by the view. No one said a word for sixty seconds. Finally, James opened his mouth.
    “Dude.”
    I know, on the surface it’s not the most expressive term, but it summed it up for the moment. Its deeper meaning was, “Have you ever seen anything this impressive in your life—other than that unbelievable house up there?”
    That’s what’s nice about “Dude.” It’s just one word, but it conveys a whole lot more than just one word
    “Hey, you guys.”
    We turned around and there was this gorgeous little brunette, maybe five feet tall, in a black bikini bathing suit. She had a grin that almost stopped my looking any farther, but that would have been a shame because the rest was awesome.
    Jackie Fuentes was put together like a Playboy model. Ample-sized breasts, the halter top barely covering her nipples, and a narrow waist with a diamond stud in the belly button. The thong that hugged her crotch let every feature show through. I’d never seen a woman who was completely shaved. There was no doubt about this one.
    “Dude,” I said. I looked at James. He didn’t say anything this time.
    “James, Skip, this is Jackie. Put your tongues back in your mouths.” Em gave us a stare.
    Jackie Fuentes laughed. “Thank you so much for coming. I will be so glad when his things are out of the house.” She motioned to the mansion. “Follow me and I’ll show you where everything is.”
    We would have followed her anywhere. So this was what trophy wives looked like.