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Chapter 8
Describe your job in two words. Flabby asses. ~ Text from Hailey to Suzie
“Another day, another naked ass,” I say as I hand my camera to Suzie for her to extract the pictures I took today.
She grabs the camera and switches it on to check out the pictures with a big ‘ol smile on her face. I’m starting to think she’s a voyeur. Her nose scrunches as she scrolls through the pictures. “Someone needs to work out more. Because that ass is the definition of flabby.”
“He probably doesn’t have time to work out between the two mistresses and the wife.” You heard me right. He’s canoodling with three women at the same time. Who has the time? Or the energy?
“Huh. You’d think that much fucking would improve the muscle tone on his ass.”
Someone clears her throat behind me. “Um…”
I stand and offer a smile to Phoebe. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Do I…” She clears her throat and gestures to the camera. “I don’t actually have to… you know… do I?”
My eyes widen. “No. Hell no. These are pictures from some work I did earlier today. Totally different situation.”
She exhales and her shoulders drop. “Oh, good. I thought may have misunderstood. Considering the other women who were here yesterday to interview.”
At the reminder of yesterday’s mix-up, I glare at Suzie. She raises her hands in surrender. “Sorry, sorry. I didn’t realize my ad would bring the women of the night into the daylight.”
I ignore her to concentrate on Phoebe. She’s dressed similarly to her outfit of yesterday. A tight dress showing off all her curves and high heels on her feet. When I stand, she towers over me. She must be at least an inch or two taller than me.
She runs her hand down her dress. “Am I dressed okay?”
Suzie snorts. “Please, your honey is going to attract all the horny bees tonight.” She stands and walks from behind her desk to take a closer look at Phoebe and promptly runs into the corner of the desk and takes a nosedive to the floor. She rolls at the last moment to land on her back.
“Oh, my goodness. Are you hurt?” Phoebe bends down to help Suzie stand.
“She’ll be fine. This happens all the time. You get used to it.” Suzie springs to her feet. “See? All fine. Are you ready to go?”
“Are you sure I can’t come with you?” Suzie begs.
“No. You can’t come with.” The word inconspicuous is not in Suzie’s vocabulary. Which is fine, I love her for who she is. But an asset during a honey pot operation she is not.
Phoebe and I walk out of the building and climb into my SUV. “We’re going to the Grand Hotel,” I explain as I start the engine. It’s super handy cheaters tend to flock to the same hotel. It’s given me the chance to get to know most of the staff. I know who to avoid and know who’s willing to do a bit of side business for an extra buck.
As we drive, I explain how we work to her. “My client…er...I guess I should say our client is Mrs. Wilson. She suspects her husband is cheating on her but has no proof. All she knows is he has drinks with his colleagues every Thursday after work at the Grand Hotel. She’s not welcome to join them, and he often comes home smelling of cheap perfume.”
“Oh. Should I have used cheap perfume?” Phoebe asks.
I chuckle. “You’re fine.” She’s probably wearing some fancy-schmancy two hundred dollars an ounce stuff. I’m normally not a fan of perfume, but hers is subtle and surprisingly appealing. If I thought I could afford it, I’d ask her what it is.
I find a parking spot on the street near the hotel. “First rule. Never use the valet service. If you need to leave in a hurry, it’s a disaster.” Trust me. I know. Running down State Street with an angry man chasing me while screaming I’ll get you bitch is not something I plan to ever repeat.
I park and we walk into the hotel. We must look like quite the pair. Me in my ripped jeans, t-shirt, and shitkicker boots walking with a woman dressed like a model stepping off the runway. I nod to Peggy who smiles and waves when she notices me. She also gives me two thumbs up as if she’s cheering me on for some great adventure.
I direct Phoebe toward the lounge where I see Andy is working. I settle Phoebe at the bar on a barstool visible to everyone walking in. Perfect.
“This is Andy. He’ll take good care of you.” She looks confused. I bend forward and whisper. “He’ll water down the drinks to make sure you don’t end up getting drunk while you’re waiting.”
Another lesson learned. When I say a drunk woman does not attract a target, I am not lying. At least it wasn’t me who got stinking drunk and screamed the place down about cheating men who should have their dicks chopped off. We really should screen candidates to make sure they aren’t man-haters.
“What can I get you?” Andy asks as his eyes rove over her body.
I snap my fingers in his face. “No.” He pouts. “No,” I repeat. He will not be hitting on my employee. We’re here to work.
