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with one of her filthy-rich clients
on My Campus Hotties. Kandy had left Delaney with her phone number,
begrudgingly, urging Delaney to get on Twitter instead. She was constantly navigating
through sites, some device always connected to her ear or hand. Kandy was
perfect for the job. Delaney reached for her phone, the rain now pouring
against the glass in sheets. She slid through her contacts, landing on the Ks.
    “Delaney Jones,”
Kandy drawled in a playful, sweet Southern accent.
    “Kandy with a K,”
Delaney replied, smiling to herself as she envisioned Kandy lying in a chair,
martini in her hand.
    As talented as she
was, Kandy had always been on the prowl for a man to take care of her. No doubt
she had the body for it and the heart of coal didn’t hurt. She had no qualms
stomping on men who thought, or even just had an inkling of premeditation, of
saying an unkind word to her.
    “With what do I owe
this pleasure?”
    “A favor.”
    “Of course. Don’t you
want to know how I’m doing?” Kandy finally dropped the fake accent, resorting
back to her Midwest roots.
    “Sure, go,” Delaney
said, knowing that Kandy was doing just fine.
    “Florida’s
amazing, as I'm sure you would have guessed. Hank is a bit of a bore, but he’s worth a load of cash and likes
my company. I paint when I feel like it and when I don’t, I shop. I take his
credit card, and boom, shopping commenced. I think I’ve got it made for a bit.
Delaney, you really gotta try this out,” Kandy encouraged. Delaney didn’t doubt
that Kandy believed she had it made - that she had hit the motherload of all gold-digging.
    “I’m sure I do,” she
replied as the rain beat against the building, the sound amplifying with each
passing second.
    “What’s that favor
you were talking about?”
    “Well, you know how
incapable I am at technology, right? A blundering ass, I think you once said,”
Delaney paused to listen to Kandy’s chuckle before continuing, “I need a little
help digging up a little dirt on someone.”
    “Ms. Delaney Jones.
What kind of dirt? A guy? Are you finally seeing someone?” Kandy also had a
thing for gossip, a habit Delaney had never understood or engaged in. A characteristic
she had realized early on had most likely caused her lack of friendships with
women through her adolescence. But Delaney hadn’t minded Kandy’s obsession, as
long as she didn’t have to partake in the nasty back-stabbing game.
    “Well, I’m seeing
someone, but this isn’t the guy I want you to look up. The guy I want to know
more about is just an acquaintance that my mom may have known,” she started. An
acquaintance . A blackmailer would have been a more accurate term. Murderer. Even better.
    “Ooh, juice please,”
Kandy perked.
    “No juice, just look
him up. I just want anything you can find on him. His name is George Boyd. He’s
in his late fifties or sixties, I’m guessing. I’m thinking from Wisconsin, but
check the entire U.S.,” Delaney replied, watching the water flood the sidewalks
below.
    “I’m not a hacker,
Delaney,” Kandy laughed. “I don’t know where you exactly check for people’s
background, but I’ll do my best. I’ll start a search myself and if I can’t find
anything, I have some friends that can do some digging for a fee.”
    “I figured you would
know someone, you always do,” Delaney complimented, laying it on thick.
    “You know me. The
power of social media and connections. You should try it someday,” she teased.
“Even my mom has a Facebook account.”
    “I’m good, Kandy.”
    “So what was that
about a guy you’re seeing? What’s his name?”
    “James.”
    “Is he hot? Good in
bed?”
    “It’s good, Kandy.
I’ll leave it at that.”
    “Never wanted to kiss
and tell, did you, Delaney? I’ll give you a ring once I know something,” Kandy
finally relented.
    “Thanks and don’t let
the fee get too high.”
    “What’s too high?” She
laughed. “I’m drinking from a bottle of wine