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“Jane—the girl who called in sick—decided she suddenly felt better and showed up.” Cassie grinned and tucked a strand of jet-black hair behind her ear. “Actually I think she heard that Prince Ahmat was in the house. He’s a big, and I do mean big, tipper.”
“Well, that’s nice. Not that he tips big. I mean, it’s nice she decided to work. You certainly didn’t want to work a double shift.”
“No.” Cassie leaned forward, delicately removed a mushroom from the pizza and put it in her mouth. “I met this guy. A Frenchman.”
Dawn laughed. Cassie’s tastes in food inevitably reflected her love life. “I never would have guessed.”
“He’s tall, dark and gorgeous.”
“Mmm.”
“`Mmm’ is for pizza. Magnifique is for handsome, loaded Frenchmen.”
“It’s for pizza, too, according to what you said two minutes ago.”
“You’re too picky for your own good, you know that?” Cassie sat back and crossed her legs. “So, are you gonna tell me how things went today?”
“They went fine.” Dawn scooped up a gooey blob of cheese and sucked it off the tip of her finger. “Well, mostly fine. I had a couple of tough moments but all in all, I think it was okay. Jean said so, anyway.”
“And your car?”
“All fixed. Something called a ballast resistor and some other stuff had to be replaced.”
“Great.” Cassie raised an eyebrow. “I heard that a knight in shining armor came to your rescue.”
Dawn looked up, blushed, and looked down again. “You heard wrong. It’s too hot to wear armor in Vegas.”
“I also heard he was gorgeous, and that he was riding a black horse.”
Dawn laughed. “It was a black Mustang.”
“That’s what I said.”
“And you can’t possibly know what he looked like ‘cause he dropped me off at the employee entrance.”
“Well, it was just a hopeful guess.” Cassie cocked her head. “So, what did he look like? Warts? A potbelly? Ears like an elephant?”
“How’d you guess?” Dawn said, deadpan. She grinned when Cassie’s eyes widened. “I’m joking. No warts. No belly. No ears like Babar’s, either. He was okay looking.”
“Okay, how?”
“Okay, that’s all.” Dawn took another piece of pizza and bit into it. “How many kinds of `okay’ can there be?”
“You really have led a sheltered life.” Cassie refilled their glasses. “There’s `okay’ as in that dealer who still tells me how much he’d like to take me out.”
“I can’t remember what he looks like.”
“Exactly. Then there’s Mario. The headwaiter.”
“What’s wrong with Mario?”
“What’s right with him? Average looks. Average personality. Average everything.”
Dawn finished the last bit of her slice of pizza and licked some sauce from her thumb. “And?”
“And, there’s `okay’ as in Keir O’Connell.”
“Meaning?”
