Read an Excerpt
“Simon says I have a dangerously fun assignment for my three favourite men, today.” The loud speaker crackled and echoed through the luxurious white-on-white offices of Simon’s Detective Agency.
Private detectives Marco D’Angelo, Raphael Chico, and Cary Lombard stared at one another in turns.
Cary, the computer nerd, shifted in his comfy armchair, leaned against the side, and sat Indian style. He tied his long golden blond hair into a silky ponytail and squinted in the direction of Simon’s voice. “How much fun is ‘fun’?”
Marco, the ex-New York cop, scowled. “What do you mean ‘dangerously’?”
Rafe, the ex-actor-makeup artist, ran his fingers through his dark curls and made a moue of his lips. “Do we get to dress up?”
“Yes, indeedy, my pretty one. You’ll get to play with your makeup and costumes to your heart’s content. In fact, that’s an integral part of this assignment.”
Glee glowed in Rafe’s heart and he rubbed his hands together. “I can’t wait. Do tell.”
Cary cast an indulgent look at Rafe as he scratched his chin. “You made the diva very happy, but is there a part for me?”
“Patience. I’m getting there. There’ll be plenty for all of you to make your little hearts happy. You get to bug lots of rooms, run videos, and fool with sound equipment. Will that keep your nerd heart happy?”
Cary keyed notes into his laptop as he balanced it on his knees. He cracked a lopsided grin. “I’m good.”
Marco linked his fingers behind his head and leaned back. Raphael wasn’t surprised when he kicked his booted feet up on the desk. “Cut to the chase, boss. Give us the nitty gritty.”
“I’m trying to.” Simon’s fingers drummed loudly through the speaker. Glasses chinked. “You, my sweets, are going to be in a transvestite beauty pageant in Ft. Lauderdale. Have I caught your attention yet?”
Salivating, Rafe scooted to the edge of his chair. He hadn’t been in a pageant for ages, not since long before joining Simon’s agency. “We all have to have a talent. I sing, act, dance, play wicked piano—”
“Sprout wings.” Marco added, glaring at him.
Rafe was sick of Marco’s derision. The tough guy ex-cop thought he was such hot shit, so big and bad. Rafe longed to wipe the smirk off his mug. “What’s your talent? Scratching your balls?”
Cary snickered and gave an air high five. “Good one.”
Marco gave them both the finger. To Cary he said, “At least, my idea of a hot Saturday night isn’t breaking and entering into private individual’s internet networks.”
Simon clucked his tongue. “Now, now boys. Let’s stop the bickering. We all know one of Cary’s most invaluable talents is hacking.”
Cary gave a toothy grin, stood and bowed. “Thank you. Thank you very much.”
Marco’s brow furrowed. “If I were still on the force, I’d have hauled your scrawny ass into the pokey a long time ago.”
“Bite me, pig. You wouldn’t have a halfway decent firewall or free satellite if not for me.”
Rafe couldn’t wait to get started. He would be “Raquel Chico” for this tasty little job, with long, flowing curls, and rhinestone-studded lashes. He debated whether to be an average, sedate C-cup or a vivacious DD. Of course he’d have to get a manicure and pedicure straight away. The tough part would be dragging the butch cop and computer nerd with him.
He went over his wardrobe and knew he couldn’t wear any of his old gowns. They’d be so 1999 he’d die of humiliation. “Will we have time for a shopping spree? Oh! And a bikini wax?”
Marco groaned and rubbed his temples. “Do we all have to play dress up and prance around on stage like Diana Ross? Please say no.”
“No, not all. Only two of you,” Simon said.