tonight to fill you in. How’s the packing going?
A texting convo ensues.
I’m with Mom now, but I’m going to hit it again when I get back. I found my old dance costumes in Mom’s attic last night. I am so bringing them to Vegas with me. Showgirl, here I come! That’ll show him…
Forget that asshole. You’ve got a brand spanking new life awaiting you in Vegas. I say.
I grin at the peach, hand, eggplant string she sends. Somebody’s got a spanking life and it ain’t me! Unless you let me come work for you… pretty please….
We’ve been talking about this, but I don’t know. Lexi says she wants the distraction, the fun of going on lavish dates with rich men, the one-night stand with no connection. Five minutes later, she’s swearing off men forever. Then ten minutes after that her head is on my shoulder and she’s crying over Tom and saying the biggest fuck you to him would be to escort for hot daddies.
It’s not happening.
Fat chance this big sister is going to let her little sis be a Sugar Daddies escort.
I can practically see her pout as she responds. That’s discrimination. If I apply you have to give me an interview.
That’s nepotism. Can’t hire my family. Sorry, showgirl.
Hang on, Mom wants me to text you something, I’m starting a thread with all of us.
I look at the time. There’s only another half hour before the car arrives. I really need to work. The new thread pops up and there’s three dots. I wait, curious as to what my mom could be typing.
Mom: Tell your man that in Book 2 he needs to know that Monte Carlo is actually the bad guy. Keep an (eye emoji) out.
“You’ve got to be kidding me. Not this Mafia romance stuff again.” I hold the phone up to my face as if my mom’s on the other line and can hear me. “He’s just the cover model, Mom.”
Mom: I’m also reading Song of Solomons. So hot they could start a fire.
Here’s a line for you. The curves of your thighs are like jewelry.
Mom. Stop.
My sister, the menace, replies. Mmm… tell us more, Mom.
Mom: Your breasts are clusters of fruit I will climb the palm tree and take hold of its fruit.
OMG I’ve got to get back to work. K bye girls!
I toss my phone in my purse. I can’t be distracted right now. My time can better serve my mother by going to look at the new care home Shane found than texting sexy quotes from a book back and forth.
After what feels like only minutes but must be thirty, Sam pops her head in my doorway. “Car’s here, Julia Roberts.”
I hold in a groan, grabbing my bag. “Please stop calling me that, Sam.”
She gives me the innocent face. “What? You’re living every escort's dream. Better you hear it from me than the girls.”
What are the girls saying behind my back? “Spill it.”
She gives a shrug. “Everyone is calling you Pretty Woman.”
I let the groan go this time. Loud and long. “Well, tell them to stop. How do the girls even know about that movie? It’s so old.”
She gives me a roll of her eyes. “Every girl knows that movie, babe. Now get out of here. Your Mercedes chariot awaits you. I’ll upload the rest of these and shoot them to your email for you to e-sign.” She sweeps the contracts from my desk, pointing at the door.
As I brush past her to leave my office, she gives my ass a swat with the papers. She cackles. “Don’t keep daddy waiting, babygirl.”
I rush through the doorway, calling over my shoulder. “I can fire you, you know.”
She follows me to the front door. “No, you can’t. You know you can’t work the scanner. Or the shared calendar. And you don’t know how to negotiate like I do.”
“Fair points.” I’d be lost without her and she knows it. I give her a tight squeeze. “Besides, you’re my favorite employee.”
“Really? Cause your sister’s been calling here asking me to sneaky-book her an interview with you. I think she’s trying to take my place as your fave employee.”
My hand freezes on the handle of the front door. “Tell me you told her no.”
“Of course I did. But she sure could bring in a pretty penny. That banging little dancer’s body—”
Steeling my gaze, I give her the look I’ve been given so many times by Gabe. I throw in her full name for good measure. “Samantha.”
She holds up