Jean stopped mid-stride, slowly lowering her foot to the floor.“That’s a lot of frozen dinners. If he came in at twenty, we can definitely negotiate up.”
“What?”
“If he really wants you to be his trophy wife, let’s make him pay.” Jean raised both hands in the universal sign for,Just listen before you freak out.“Take the money and fake it for a few months. You need a job, and it’s a hell of a lot easier than temping. At least nobody will monitor your bathroom breaks.”
“Um.” Libby let the skeptical arch of her brows do the rest of the work.
“Okay, bad example. You’ll get more than fifteen minutes for lunch. In fact, it could go on for hours. With multiple cocktails,anddessert. You won’t get to eat most of it, but still. It’ll be there. Not to mention the access.”
“To what, his tennis club? You know how I feel about racket sports.”
“I’m talking about real access. It’ll be like you’re a Trojan horse, taking them down from the inside.”
“Number one, he wants a green card. That’s it. And number two, this is not your eat-the-rich moment.”
Jean sank onto the lounge chair beside her. “You turned him down?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Did you black out?”
“I got nervous and started rambling.”
“Yikes.” Jean winced. “You didn’t totally shut the door, though, right?”
“I don’t think so. I kind of got the feeling that no matter what I said he was going to hear ‘yes,’ because I’m so pathetic and he was doing me this huge favor.”
“Romantic.”
“Every girl’s dream.”
Jean rubbed her face with both hands. “Okay, let’s regroup. The good news is, we’re still in with a chance.”
“You sound surprised.”
“Honestly? I figured we’d be out on our asses by now.”
Libby stared at her.
“You needed encouragement, so that’s what I gave you. And it worked. Hashtag winning.”
More like hashtag we’re-all-gonna-die, from where Libby was sitting. And the night wasn’t technically over. “What about dinner?”
“They’re pretty wiped from traveling. I suggested they eat in their rooms. Rest up for tomorrow.”
That was both a good idea and surprisingly housekeeper-like. Maybe they were growing into their roles. “Are you bringing up a tray?”
“Hell, no.” Jean looked disgusted by the mere suggestion. “What am I, their servant? Are their arms painted on?”
Or not. “Maybe we should go listen outside their door?”
Jean made atsking sound. “All these years, and I had no idea you were such a perv.”
“To hear what they’resaying.If they suspect anything.”
“We should have bugged their room.” Jean clenched her fist in frustration. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of— What?”
“What, what?”
