Merry Jones - Elle Harrison 02 - Elective Procedures Read Online Free

assured, Señora Harrison, we will never be far away. Enjoy your vacation.”
    With that, Sergeant Perez nodded, and led his entourage away.

    Only the maid remained, asking if she could clean the bedrooms. Jen said, “Fine,” just as Becky said, “Not now. Come back later.”
    The maid stood with her cart in the open doorway, confused.
    “WTF, Becky.” As was her habit, Jen spoke in curse code. WTF meant “what the fuck,” not as tough to crack as other of her codes. Then again, it wasn’t really necessary to translate them. If Jen used initials, she was swearing. “Let her get it done.”
    Becky shrugged, okay, but the maid didn’t come in. She was talking to someone in the hallway, nodding, sí, saying something that sounded like “
policia
,” and pointing into the suite. A man stepped around her cart, through the door.
    Susan was on the phone, ordering room service. She looked up, motioned him to wait.
    He was tanned, sandy-haired, lean. About my height. Elegant, even in khakis. He obeyed Susan, backing up a step, but Becky asked, “Can we help you?”
    The man stepped forward. “Sorry for disturbing you. I am Dr. Du Bois. Dr. Alain Du Bois.”
    Jen hopped to her feet, her long blonde ponytail bobbing. She extended her hand, shook his. “Oh, Dr. Du Bois! Please. Come in.” She introduced herself, offered him a seat. “I wasn’t expecting you to stop by.” She turned to us, beaming. “Everyone, this is my plastic surgeon, the magician who’s going to transform my body.”
    Yes, of course. We’d all heard of Dr. Alain Du Bois. We’d seen his brochures, read the testimonials. Viewed his patients’ before and after photos. Jen had been raving about Alain Du Bois nonstop. He was the reason that we’d traveled here from Philadelphia, the reason that we were in this five-star resort hotel twelve miles from Puerto Vallarta, where his patients recuperated after surgery.
    Jen had done her research, checked out the references and testimonials. She’d calculated that, even with three additional airfares and a larger hotel suite, the cost of having a boob job, nose job, and tummy tuck at Du Bois’s medical center would still cost less than having those same procedures anywhere in the United States. So, as a Christmas present to herself, she’d scheduled the surgeries and, with just over a week’s notice, she’d insisted that Becky and Susan take time off work so that we could go along with her for an all-expenses-paid week of togetherness, sun, and fun.
    We had argued about it at a girls’ night dinner at Porcini. “You don’t need plastic surgery,” Susan had been curt. “It’s a stupid idea. If you have to do something, get a belly button ring.”
    “I have one.”
    “Then color your hair. Be a redhead.”
    “You’re already gorgeous, Jen.” Becky had insisted. “What’s there to improve?”
    “You’re sweet, Becky.”
    “What does Norm think?” I’d asked.
    “Norm doesn’t know.” Jen had sipped Chablis. “It’s going to be a surprise.”
    “A surprise?” Susan had put down her fork in the middle of a pasta twirl. “You do realize that changing your body isn’t like changing your draperies.”
    “Actually, no, I hadn’t realized that, Susan. Thank you for pointing it out.” Jen had stabbed her filet.
    “It must cost a lot,” Becky had mused. “Wouldn’t it be better to spend the money on something worthwhile? Like cancer research or protecting wildlife?”
    “OMG, Becky.” Jen had rolled her eyes. “Norm can afford to pay for this and for saving the whales, as well.”
    None of us knew what Norm did or how he could afford so much. We knew only that he owned things, that Jen had a multimillion-dollar house, plenty of jewelry, a new BMW on a regular schedule, and scads of designer shoes.
    “Still, Jen,” Susan put her fork down. “Surgery seems drastic. Are you willing to go that far just to soothe your own vanity?”
    “FU, Susan. You’re such hypocrites. Every