“Unfortunately, yes,” Gwen said and downed the rest of her coffee.Her glossy brown hair was in a messy pile on top of her head, her glasses were sliding down her nose, and under the puffy white coat she still wore her pajamas.
“That sounds ominous.”
“Actually, it’s a good idea,” Gwen allowed.“I just wish she’d had it about four hours later.”
Bailey dipped her breakfast sandwich into the pile of ketchup.“I can’t help when genius strikes.”
“You can help when genius drags me out of bed,” Gwen countered.
“I wanted to catch her before she drove to Michigan.”
“It’s Monday morning,” Gwen pointed out.“Nobody bangs on Monday morning, even swingers.”
Bailey licked ketchup off the heel of her hand.“I’ve banged on Monday mornings.”
“No reasonable person bangs on Monday mornings.”
Her mouth full of food, Bailey just shot up a middle finger.
“Is someone going to tell me what this idea is?”Chloe asked, wiggling to get comfortable.The bra was pinching again.
Gwen jerked her chin.“Tell it, genius.”
Bailey swallowed, took a gulp of coffee, then wiped her hands on a napkin.“We think you should hire a sex worker.”
“For what?”Chloe asked, clueless.
“For your threesome.”
“Yeah, okay.”Chloe chuckled into her coffee, then lowered the cup.“Wait.You’re serious?”
Gwen reached over to snag Bailey’s coffee off the table.“Why not?”
“Hey, that’s mine,” Bailey protested.
“You got me up at six-thirty on my day off,” Gwen reminded her, then turned back to Chloe with her eyebrows raised expectantly.“Well?”
“For one, it’s illegal.”
Bailey waved that away.“It’s like a third-class misdemeanor.At most you’d do sixty days and pay a five-hundred-dollar fine.”
Chloe stared at her, then at Gwen.“What’d she do, look up the statute?”
“Yep.”Gwen gulped coffee, then choked.“God, Bails, how much sugar did you put in this?”
“As much as I wanted, because it’smy coffee.”
“Six-thirty,” Gwen repeated and sipped defiantly.“What’s second?”
“What?”Chloe asked.
“You said ‘first, it’s illegal’,” Gwen reminded her.“What’s second?”
Chloe struggled to shift her brain back into gear.“I can’t afford it.”
“How do you know?”Bailey wanted to know.“You make good tips.”
“Which I’m using to pay off student loans and buy jewelry supplies,” Chloe said, exasperated.“Half the time what’s in my fridge comes from the pub, and I can’t remember the last time I put a full tank of gas in my car.”
