Page 83 of Ewan

“Yes. I’m working.”

“Working?”

“Petsitting for Miss Scholz.”

“Oh. Her. Can you meet me someplace for a minute? It won’t take long.”

“Now?”

“Yes, now. Are you at her place? I can meet you downstairs.”

She’s had my gig before, so she knows where Mousy’s owner lives.

“In five minutes?” I say.

“Five minutes?”

“Yeah. I’m coming from the park. Can you actually make it ten?”

“Ten is good. But don’t make me wait. I can’t stand this cold. I have a special gig for you. And you will love it,” she says, ecstatic.

“All right,” I murmur dryly. “Why can’t you just tell me on the phone what it’s all about?” I ask, peeling my eyes away from Ewan’s.

I take it he doesn’t like that I have fabricated a story, although he asked me in the past not to run my mouth.

He’s not a fan of this, in reality, his arched eyebrow says to me.

I press my phone into my cheek so he can’t hear her talking. I don’t know whether it’s working or not.

He still looks at me with suspicion.

“I’m at the hair salon right now,” Sammy says. “The girl is almost done, but I can’t talk. Besides, some things need to stay between us.”

I have a feeling I know what this is all about.

I’ve done this gig before, and this wouldn’t be my first time when I was pole dancing for money.

It’s not as bad as it sounds.

It doesn’t involve sex. If it did, my sweat wouldn’t stink.

“Okay. I’ll see you there,” I say and end the call, glancing at Ewan like I’ve snuck counterfeited goods into the country.

He tosses a smile at me.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Yes, I am,” I say, sweating. “That was my friend. She had a new job for me and couldn’t tell me on the phone what it was all about. She was at the hair salon.”

He tips his gaze down and drags it over the table.

“Are you done? I also need to be someplace else,” he says.

“Yeah. Of course. I need to rush away, anyway. I’m sorry we had to cut our meeting short.”

“No problem. I’ll see you when you’re done, then?”

“You mean in an hour?”

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