Page 49 of One Sweet Lie

I exhaled before knocking on the door.

Three, two, one…

“Come in,” he answered.

I obliged and found him sitting behind his desk in a white button-down shirt. The top three buttons were undone, giving me a view of his chiseled chest, making me remember that I’d seen it completely bare before.

“How may I help you, Miss Hawthorne?”

“There’s an event I would like to attend next weekend, so I’m requesting the time off in advance.”

“I see,” he said. “Is this event for professional development?”

Hell no.“Yes, it is.”

“Is it something that will benefit you taking care of my children?”

I nodded.

“Can you speakaloud, Miss Hawthorne?” He leaned forward. “I’m afraid I don’t speak horse.”

Okay, fuck you. “It’s extremely beneficial to me taking care of your children, sir.”

“How so?”

“It’s about establishing a good life with boundaries and fun.”

He stared at me for a long while, as if he were waiting for me to elaborate, but I kept my mouth shut.

“Okay,” he said. “Since you’ve asked me so nicely this time, I approve your request.”

“Thank you.” I froze my eyeballs to their sockets to prevent them from rolling.

“You can leave my office now,” he said. “You staring at me like that only benefits yourself.”

TWENTY

HARLOW

The following weekend

The only thing I hated about Lounge 22 was the mandatory phone check. Since it hailed itself as “the perfect place to go missing,” everyone was required to lock away their cell phones at the door.

To enhance the “missing” vibes, they kept the dance floor dim so the partiers could dance as wild and free as they wanted. They also covered the red signs over the exits with caution tape.

I’d stayed up far too many nights watching “1000 Weird Ways to Die,” and since “Club Stampede” was number 51 on the list, I always danced near the closest door.

“Oh, wow!” Sasha high-fived me when I entered the powder room. “I love your outfit!”

“You don’t think it’s too tight?” I caught my reflection and second-guessed myself. The sleeveless pink dress was knee-length and practically shrink-wrapped to my body.

The matching shiny stilettos were gifts from a stripper I once served atLe Sacre Coeur.

“It’s perfect.” She clapped her hands. “You’re giving me beautiful, yet classy, with a hint of naughty thotty vibes.”

“Thotty?””

“Slutty.”

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