As always, I use them for fun and not for profit. The mistakes are all mine, and certainly not jago ji's, who does her best to keep me on track, properly punctuated, and semi-rooted in the canon world of Plum.

Chapter 1

Wigged Out

I watched Lula as she walked from the gym. There was a difference. She was still a plus-size woman, but her curves had real definition and she was toned. I've been friends with Lula for a long time, and to say I was skeptical when she announced she was hiring a personal trainer was an understatement. I'd been through her eat one of anything diet, the meat diet and the very short-lived vegetarian phase. I'd been pretty sure the personal trainer wouldn't last long, but I was wrong.

My name is Stephanie Plum and I'm a bounty hunter. It's a job I'm not good at, but I'm no longer terrible at it either. A few years' experience has made me an average bounty hunter, and that's such a big step up from where I started that I'm finding average to be very satisfying. Lula, my friend and the plus-sized woman at whom I was currently staring, was my partner in skip tracing. She'd started out as the world's worst file clerk and climbed the ladder to her current position of really bad bounty hunter assistant. It didn't matter though, because we had the one thing money and experience couldn't buy—luck.

We were the luckiest bounty hunters in Trenton, and anyone you asked would agree. There was a saying about being lucky at cards and unlucky in love. Lula and I had modified that phrase. We were lucky at capture and unlucky at love, and that somber thought brought me back to thinking about the personal trainer.

In the past, Lula had been involved with Tank, Ranger's number two man. Lula always insisted it was casual and most people believed her, but I had seen the unguarded hurt in her eyes on one or two occasions when the subject of Tank arose, and I was sure Lula still had feelings for him. Tank had moved on from Lula to a series of less serious relationships until he had settled down with an FBI Special Agent from Newark. They'd been a steady pair for almost a year when the relationship suddenly fell apart.

Tank's new single status coincided with the start of Lula's personal training regimen, and I was certain the two were connected. I thought Lula was hoping for reconciliation, so on one level I wasn't surprised when the personal trainer outlasted all of Lula's other get thin quick schemes. I was surprised when I saw the results. Lula's propensity for undersized spandex outfits showed every little bump and roll on her torso. These days though, there were no bumps or rolls, just magnificent and generous curves, and although the spandex was still a little on the snug side, it was currently stretching over smoother terrain.

I hoped if Lula's unspoken goal was to reconnect with Tank, she would be successful. And even though I wished the best for her, I was a little tired of hearing her sing the praises of her trainer. I'd hate to think I was jealous that Lula was actually working toward a romantic goal, but there was maybe some of that lurking behind my good wishes for her. I was going nowhere in my own romantic life, so I should have been more supportive of Lula's efforts, but I got bored hearing about the wonderful Chroma.

"Chroma says" was Lula's current favorite phrase. I was still her best friend, but Chroma was fast becoming an important part of her life. "Chroma says I got to get my heart rate up." Or "Chroma says I have great hamstrings." There were days I didn't want to hear a thing Chroma said, but now watching Lula walk toward me I decided maybe I should pay more attention to what Chroma said, because Lula was looking good.

I'd never met the trainer, but it looked like that was going to change soon. The door of the gym swung open and an amazon walked out. She was tan and her hair, a white blond, was cut short and framed her perfectly shaped head. Her head wasn't the only thing that was perfectly shaped. Her body was athletic and as she got closer to the car I could see she must practice what she preached. She looked to be six feet of well-toned muscle and was presently jogging toward Lula with a graceful gazelle-like stride.

My window was rolled down letting the spring breeze ruffle my hair as I watched the scene unfold.

"Lula, wait!" The command was uttered with some urgency. "I forgot to tell you I need to reschedule tomorrow."

Lula stopped and turned toward the woman. "Hunh! Well, when do you want to reschedule for? Tomorrow was supposed to be my upper body day."

"It still can be your upper body day," Chroma told her. "I just can't do this time in the afternoon. I got a call for my left breast, tomorrow. What about the morning? I'm free until noon."

"Yeah, that would be okay," Lula said. "Your left breast, you say? That's the job you were hoping for, right?"

"Yeah," Chroma said, her face lighting up in a smile. ""It will go a long way toward next month's rent."

"Chroma, come on over here. I want you to meet my friend."

As Lula came closer, I got out of the car and stood, resting my hands on top of the open door.

"Chroma, this here is my good friend and the best female bounty hunter in Trenton. This here is Stephanie Plum, the bombshell bounty hunter."

Chroma stepped around the car door and held out her hand. On closer inspection, I could see she was younger than me, maybe mid to late twenties. Her physical presence was imposing, and she towered over me by a good four inches. Her eyes met mine then skittered away. She blushed slightly as we shook hands, and I got the impression she was a little shy. I tried, and failed, not to look at her left breast. I had no idea what they had been talking about, but I thought it would be impolite to ask.

"I'm happy to meet you, Stephanie," she said, giving my hand an extra squeeze before she released it. "Lula has told me some awesome stories about you. You're quite a legend in Trenton." Again, her cheeks flushed and her voice was breathy. She was a perfect physical specimen, and she should have been bursting with confidence, but instead she seemed a little awkward, socially. She wasn't perfect after all. And just like that my small feelings of jealousy melted away. Whether by nature of her personality, or intent, she'd charmed me and I liked her.

Lula poured herself into my car and buckled in as Chroma walked back toward the gym. I slid in, started the engine and pulled out of the lot. "Thanks for picking me up," Lula said. "The Firebird won't be out of the shop until tomorrow, and I need to go shopping today. And I'm glad you got to meet Chroma."

"No problem with picking you up," I said. "I'm glad I got to meet Chroma, too. Uhm, what's the deal with the left breast?"

"Her left breast has a photo shoot tomorrow. She's a body parts model. Her ears and her neck and breasts are all registered body parts. Breasts pay best so she was hoping she'd get this job."

"Just the left breast?" I asked, wondering what kind of a shoot would expose only one breast.

"Yeah," Lula said. "She's playing the role of a nursing momma so they only need one breast and she gets extra for lettin' the baby suck on it. They're gonna have to be quick though, 'cause that particular well ain't never been primed, if you know what I mean."

"You mean she's not a nursing mom?"

"That's what I mean, but the photographer don't care, long as he can get the shot. They'll stick some other head on the picture. I think Chroma's real pretty, but they already got another model for the face."

And I thought bounty hunting was a bad way to make a living. I had to reconsider. It sounded a lot better than letting a strange baby attach himself to my nipple, and then have an even stranger photographer record it.

"I'd think she would make enough money as a personal trainer to pay her rent," I commented as we drove down Hamilton.

"She's sort of new to town and she don't have a big clientele built up yet. She's always doing something for extra money and I'll tell you this breast thing pays big. Way more than her ears or her neck. You know that big billboard across from the ER at Helene Fuld?" Lula asked.

I nodded, not really sure if I did or not. "Well, that big picture of a woman's neck with the diamond choker on it is Chroma's neck. And even though it's a big picture it didn't pay her hardly nothin'. She told me her boobie will pay her a thousand bucks, and you won't even be able to see much of it with the baby's head in the way an' all."

I pondered that bit of information for a while before I realized Lula and I had never decided where we were going shopping. I assumed the mall, but with Lula it was always best not to assume. "Are we shopping for anything special today?" I asked.

"Yeah," Lula said. "Wig-A-Do is having a hump day sale. Ain't that funny? When I was growin' up, Wednesday night was church night. Now, it's a day for humpin'!"

"Uh, I don't think that's what hump day means."

"Sure it does."

"No, I think hump day means it's the middle of the week and everything is downhill after Wednesday."

"Hunh," Lula said. She was quiet for a moment considering what I'd told her. "I like my idea better. Anyway, they got their Tina Turner wigs at half-price and I wanna try out a new look." She looked sideways at my hair. I'd scraped my curls up into a messy ponytail after I showered and had let nature have its way with them. "You might want to consider a new look, too," she added.

The staff at Wig-A-Do flitted around Lula, sensing a big commission, and they pretty much left me to browse. I wasn't interested in a wig, but there were many to choose from. I watched as Lula went from blonde, to redhead and several shades in between, before finally settling on the Tina Turner model she'd come in for.

My eyes strayed to a silvery blond wig. I'd been a blonde once, for a short time. Not long enough to find out if it was true that blondes did have more fun. Maybe I should give the wig a try, because I wasn't having much fun lately. Ranger was keeping his distance, presumably to give me and Joe a chance to work on things. The day I casually mentioned to Ranger I was starting to feel the need for a committed relationship he'd grabbed hold of the front of my shirt, drawn me to him and kissed me senseless. Then he told me I was always welcome in his bed but he wasn't cut out for forever.

I'd turned to Joe, because he was safe and comfortable and he fit well into my Trenton life. Things should have been great, but there was some spark or zing that just wasn't there between us anymore. I didn't want to think it was a case of now that he had me, he didn't want me, but there were times I wondered. He seemed to be less interested in lovemaking than he was with watching a ballgame while snarfing down Pino's pizza. When I tried to question him about it he blamed the pressure of his job, but I still wondered. It had occurred to me several times that we needed something to put the zing back into our love life and suddenly, looking at the blond wig, I was struck with an idea.

Two hours later we were at the make-up counter in Macy's and Lula was an enthusiastic co-conspirator of my plan. The blond wig was in place covering all my brown curls. The fringe of platinum bangs accentuated my blue eyes currently wearing the new smoky-eye collection for blondes, and my lips were in the process of being plumped under two layers of pouty-petunia lip gloss. My jeans and t-shirt had been exchanged for a little black dress with a low neckline. The shoe box that had originally contained the five-inch stilettos, now pinching my toes, was the new home of my Chucks.

"Officer Hottie ain't gonna know what hit him," Lula said. She reached across and dipped a brush into a jar of powder that glimmered with soft gold sparkles. Ignoring the frown of the make-up lady, Lula dusted my cleavage. I should have felt self-conscious, sitting at the counter with shoppers walking by, but I was really getting into the spirit of the adventure. Joe was expecting me for dinner, but he wasn't expecting the femme fatale I was morphing into. I thought I might succeed in making him forget about dinner and the ballgame. It would be just the little spark we needed.

We left the mall with Lula driving. Our plan was set. As we neared Joe's house I could see he wasn't home. That was good. I'd have a chance to get inside and really take him by surprise.

"Okay," Lula said as I got out of the car. "I'll drive this hunk of junk to work tomorrow. Morelli can drop you off at the office and then you can take me to pick up the Firebird from the shop."

"It's a plan," I said. I walked up the steps to Joe's and used one hand to rummage in my purse for keys, while the other tugged on the high hemline of the dress to make sure my ass wasn't hanging out.

I managed to get inside without Bob, the dog, knocking me over. My balance wasn't the best in the heels, but there was no denying, they did things for my legs. I bent to hug him and he licked my face. "Thanks, boy," I said. "That's more enthusiasm than your daddy has shown me lately."

I let Bob out into the back yard and stood watching him. Joe's yard was fenced, but a determined Bob could get out, although today he seemed content to stay within his boundaries. I heard the front door open. Joe. My heart skipped a beat and I realized I was nervous. I wasn't used to role playing and although I thought I looked pretty good, I didn't know how Joe would feel about my new look. I kept my back to him, my eyes trained on Bob. I'd wait until he was closer before I turned around.

I heard his step falter when he saw me, and then he continued toward the kitchen walking noticeably faster.

"Baby," he said, as he placed his hands on my shoulders and bent to nuzzle my neck. "What are you doing here? I told you Stephanie would be here tonight. You know I want you to stay, but you're going to have to go." Numbly, I let him turn me toward him and I saw his eyes widen in recognition.

"Baby?" I asked.

He didn't even try to hide his mistake. "Shit, Stephanie. I'm sorry." He moved his head back and forth as if to deny what was happening.

"Me, too." I doubled my fist and hit him in the jaw as hard as I could. His head rocked back as I heard the snap of bone. "You-sorry-son-of-a-bitch." Each word was punctuated by a throb from my hand. I walked quickly out of the room and grabbed my purse from the dining room table. I'd left it in plain view. You think the philandering idiot would have recognized it, even if he didn't recognize me. The door slammed behind me.

As I stepped onto the porch I realized I had no ride. Great. I felt wetness on my face and was surprised I was crying. And then I realized I wasn't. It was raining. Could the day get any worse? I walked down the steps and knew it would get worse. I was going to walk home in FMPs that weren't waterproof. On the bright side, I didn't have to worry about spicing up my relationship with Joe Morelli any longer.