It didn’t.

The fact that the revered Angie Naylon was known around Chicago for her killer instinct in the courtroom, didn’t mean squat to Zada, either. There was just something about having personally held your college roommate’s head over the toilet more than once that served as a pretty good equalizer.

Zada reached the top of the courthouse steps.

Angie’s frown only deepened.

“Are you kidding me, Zada?” Angie looked her up and down. “This is your idea of a mousy-looking outfit for the judge’s benefit?”

“No,” Zada said stubbornly. “This is my idea of an eat-your-heart-out outfit for Rick’s benefit. I want Rick Clark to get his last good look at what he lost when he walked out on me.”

“And how shallow is that?” Angie said with disgust.

“Today,” said Zada, “shallow suits me just fine.”

“Obviously,” Angie snipped when two suits and ties walked past, craning their necks around for a second look at Zada’s curvaceous nothing-skinny-about-her figure.

Angie looked back at Zada and said, “Your all-about-me dress certainly leaves nothing to the imagination. And here’s another news flash for you. Red is not listed on the mousy side of the color chart.”

“But red is listed on a brunette’s side of the color chart,” Zada argued, tossing her long, dark hair. “Ask any brunette. It’s our signature color.”

“It’s the judge’s signature you need to be worried about.” Angie frowned again. “I warned you this judge was old school, Zada. He doesn’t take divorce lightly. That dress blows any chance we had of him believing you’re a meek and mousy heartbroken housewife, only asking to keep your home and your poor blind dog.”

Angie wheeled around and stomped into the courthouse. Zada hurried after her.

“Oh, come on, Angie,” Zada pleaded when she finally caught up. “I’m about as mousy as a wolverine, and you know it. You could dress me in a nun’s habit, and I’d still look militant.”

“We don’t have time to argue,” Angie snapped, glaring at her again. “Your case is the first one on the docket after the lunch break. That dress is enough to sway the property settlement in Rick’s favor. The last thing we need is to be late for your hearing.”

Angie forged ahead, her briefcase in a death grip.

Zada picked up speed, trying to keep up.

“But we still have the poor blind dog hook,” Zada pointed out, trying to make amends. “I’m the one who’s taken care of Simon since Rick walked out on us.”

Angie sent her another mean look.

“How many times do we have to go over this, Zada? Simon is Rick’s dog.”

“The dog Rick left with me,” Zada said.

“And the dog who saved Rick’s life,” Angie reminded her. “Rick’s attorney will make a big production over Rick and Simon being injured recovering that explosive device at O’Hare. Separating a man from his heroic life-saving dog is not going to be an easy task.”

“That’s when you bring up the fact that I didn’t even know Rick when he and Simon were injured,” Zada said, “but that I was so touched when I heard Simon was blinded in that explosion, I visited Simon at the vet’s hospital every day and even wrote a children’s book about him.”

“And Rick’s attorney will remind the judge that Rick is one of the top trainers of explosive detection dogs in the nation,” Angie said. “Rick trains dogs professionally every day of the week.”

“Yes, Rick does train dogs professionally every day of the week,” Zada said. “Twelve to fourteen hours every day of the week. But I’m Simon’s stay-at-home mom. The mom who didn’t walk out and leave Simon behind.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Angie insisted. “Rick’s attorney will say the only reason Rick left Simon behind, is because Rick had your house specifically equipped so poor, blind Simon could function as a normal dog again.”

“Wrong again,” Zada said, “Simon could have learned to function like a normal dog without all that high-tech equipment Rick had installed in the house. Any owner of a blind dog will confirm that. Rick never gave Simon a chance to learn to manage on his own. Rick’s a techno-geek. Plain and simple.”

Angie stopped walking and turned around to face her.

“And you were supposed to be a plain and simple housewife,” Angie reminded her. “But now that you’ve blown that strategy to hell and back, you tell me, Zada. Who do you think the judge is going to say deserves Simon and house?”

“Me,” Zada insisted.

Angie groaned and walked off again.

“Angie!” Zada called after her. “I’m the one who’s practically made Simon a household name with my Simon Sees children’s series.” When she caught back up, Zada said, “Be sure and point that out. Publishers Weekly and the New York Times have both hailed Simon Sees as an inspiration for children with disabilities everywhere. Simon and I already have a national tour of children’s hospitals scheduled around Christmas this year.”

“How convenient,” Angie quipped, “since red is your signature color.” Her eyes cut sideways for a second. “Take my advice this time, Zada. Wear a different dress for the children’s tour.”

Angie turned down a corridor.

Zada clipped along behind her in four-inch heels.

At least Angie hadn’t said anything about the shoes. Her sling-back red pumps were as sexy as the dress. Or maybe Angie just never got past the dress.

When they finally reached the designated courtroom, Angie pulled Zada aside and pointed a finger under her nose.

“Keep your militant mouth shut,” Angie said. “I mean it, Zada. I don’t want even so much as a peep out of you in that courtroom.”

Zada made the zipped-lip motion with her fingers.

Angie said, “You walk in there and sit down as quickly as possible before the judge notices the lower half of your dress is missing. And it wouldn’t hurt to slump a little. Judge Parkins is in his seventies. The way that dress clings to every inch of your body, the old fart could have a heart attack and croak right there on the bench.”

“Sit and slump,” Zada said. “Got it.”

She tried smiling brightly at Angie.

Angie didn’t smile back.

She tossed her auburn hair back from her forehead.

She adjusted the jacket of her gray business suit.

And she marched into the courtroom.

Fine. Be that way, Zada decided.

Maybe short and clingy wasn’t the best choice.

And maybe red wasn’t the best color.

But Zada quickly changed her mind when she saw the look on Rick’s face when she walked into the courtroom.

He was already seated at one of the tables at the front of the room with his attorney. And now with an eyes-popped-out expression on his dropped-jaw face.

Zada smiled inwardly.

Screw slumping!

She threw her shoulders back.

She thrust her breasts forward.

She held her head high.

And walked right past her soon-to-be ex-husband.