Magic of Three by Jenna Castille

Janice. Melodrama to the max.
     
    “Well, to change subjects, do you know anyone who does good bodywork?” Lisa asked.
     
    “Doesn’t sound like a subject change to me,” Janice teased, her smirk firmly back in place.
     
    “Janice, please.”
     
    Her friend shrugged and blew a pale pink curl back in place. “What, did something happen to your baby?”
     
    “Yeah,” Lisa growled, anger still lurking just below the surface. “Some asshole at the club ripped into my paintjob with profanity last night. I told you I shouldn’t leave it there but you wouldn’t listen to me.”
     
    Janice tapped her finger against her pursed lips in studied consideration. “Hmm. Vandalism versus DUI. Money for repairs or a big girl in uniform searching your various orifices. Let me think, which is worse?”
     
    “Okay, I wasn’t fit to drive last night, but you should see what this guy did to my paint job.” Lisa’s face pinched, her jaw clenching. “He carved words in it, and not very nice words either. So now I’m stuck driving around with ‘pervert’ and other sweet little sayings for all the world to see. I’m about ready to take some sandpaper to it myself. Do you know anyone who can fix it or not?”
     
    Janice blinked and then shook her head. “Not offhand. My wonderful cheating ex handled car stuff. I’ll ask my brother, see if he knows anyone.”
     
    Lisa put her trash on her tray, along with her half-eaten pastry. “Thanks. As it is, I’m going to get a rental. Least for the time being. Can you imagine what the customers must’ve thought yesterday?”
     
    “Probably wishing they knew you better,” Janice quipped, mouth twitching with barely contained amusement.
     
    Lisa snorted, her lips trembling against the urge to smile. “You really need to work on that gutter mind of yours.”
     
    “Don’t worry. I am. I expect to reach rock bottom soon.” Janice swallowed her last bit of bagel and pointed at Lisa’s tray. “Are you going to eat the last half of your Danish?”
     
    Lisa shoved the plate at her friend and stared out the window. Only Janice could make her stop feeling like the world was about to end.
     
    After finishing their breakfast, Lisa and Janice headed for their cars. They’d meet up at the gym like usual, chatting on the treadmill for a half-hour or so before going their separate ways. As Lisa followed Janice out the door, a man caught her attention. She couldn’t quite put her finger on the problem, but something was off about him.
     
    He sat at one of the umbrella-covered tables outside by the doors, watching everyone as they went in and out. He wore a dark suit and held an open newspaper in his lap. A cup of coffee sat untouched in front of him, along with a cinnamon roll. Just an average, ordinary, bland business type, nothing to give Lisa the willies. No reason for her stomach to clench and her heart to shoot to her throat.
     
    But she could swear he’d been staring at her moments before, that he’d been waiting for her. Paranoid much, maybe, but that was the gut feeling sending adrenaline rushing through her body. He didn’t walk after her. He didn’t leer at her. His eyes didn’t eat her alive, didn’t follow her every move or track her to her car. He didn’t make any moves toward her at all. But her creep radar shrieked.
     
    She turned to Janice, wondering if her friend had noticed anything…off…about the guy. But her normally hyper-jerk-sensitive friend seemed oblivious, chatting away about all the fun she was planning on having now that she was free of the shackles of marital oppression.
     
    But Janice never glanced at the man. Just another invisible city dweller. Not cute enough or weird enough to rank notice.
     
    So why was he raising Lisa’s hackles?
     
    Lisa glanced back in his direction as she opened her car door. He picked up his paper, covering his face as he read. Had he been staring at her before? Was he watching her?
     
    Was she losing it? Or