“Amazing!” Josh said.
“Right? So you could talk with your friends, make some new acquaintances, maybe, and hang out.” She sat back, pleased by her pitch. “I’m gonna call it Shine, because, like, your nails, your hair and your personality can all shine.”
“What a great idea,” he said sincerely. “I would go there. I mean, if I were a woman.”
“I know! Tell me the truth. Your wife would’ve loved a place like that, wouldn’t she?”
“She definitely would have. And all her friends would’ve, too.”
“See! I just gotta save some more money, and then it’ll happen. Dream big, my ma always says. So in the meantime, I do a little of this and a little of that. I’m saving up.” A big smile.
He did like her. Very much.
They smiled and sipped and chatted, and while there was a pleasant rolling feel to the floor, Josh was actually having a good time.
“Tell me more about your wife,” she said, and he did. He told her about how happy they were, how many fun things they did, the places they’d gone, how even when she was at her sickest, Lauren never stopped being positive and kind and perfect.
Cammie had tears in her eyes. “I hope I meet someone like you someday, Josh,” she said, which was odd, because that day was today, wasn’t it?
“She wrote these letters for me to read every month after she died,” he said, again surprising himself. “She said she wanted to walk me through this first year without her.”
“Oh, my God.” Cammie’s mouth wobbled, and she took a cocktail napkin and carefully wiped under her lashes. “That’s beautiful.”
“I thought so, too.”
“Your guardian angel.”
He hated that term, but . . . “Exactly. And every month in the letter, she gives me something to do, so I’m not just sitting around our apartment, lost.”
“Seriously? What does she tell you to do?”
“Well, the first thing was just go to the grocery store. Then, you know, have people over for dinner. Get a new couch. See a, um . . . a medium.”
“Oh, my God! How was that? Was it amazing? I’m a total believer.”
“It was pretty incredible,” he admitted.
“My cousin? She has flashes like that? Totally random, but it knocks your socks off. Like once? She said my grandmother had made my dress for my first Communion? She’s like, ‘Grandma is showing me the dress she made for your first Communion,’ and I’m like, ‘Oh, my God, I loved that dress.’” She smiled fondly at the memory. “It had pockets. Then my mother said that my cousin would know that because Gran made all the first Communion dresses for her granddaughters, but still. She knew about the pockets, right?”
“Yes,” Josh said, though he wasn’t sure if that was an appropriate response. “This lady was very . . . accurate.”
“Such a gift. God bless her.” She made the sign of the cross, and Josh’s eyes followed her hand up to her shiny hair, then down to her lovely cleavage, then left, then right, and whoo! His eyes were getting a little rebellious, weren’t they? A little maverick, those eyes.
Their second round of drinks was gone, the room was spinning slightly, and Josh decided, what the hell, he’d tell her. “So for this month, my wife wanted me to kiss someone. A woman.”
He probably hadn’t needed to add that last part.
“Seriously? That was her thing for you?”
“Yes.”
Cammie’s brilliant eyes welled again. “I think that’s so . . . kind. So fucking romantic.”
“Me, too,” Josh said, though again, he wasn’t quite sure his answer was appropriate, since he couldn’t exactly remember the last sentence out of Cammie’s mouth. No more drinks for him.
“I don’t usually kiss my clients, but I’m gonna make an exception for you.”
“Thank you.” He smiled. A second later, a distant bell chimed. “Wait. What . . . what did you just say?”
“I’ll make an exception for you, sweetie. Abso-fuckin’-lutely.”
“You called me . . .” What was the word she used? “A client?”
“Sure.” She shrugged. “But I could see us becoming friends, too.”
So nice! “Me, too.” What were they talking about again? “Um . . . the client part.”
She tipped her head, her shiny hair falling to one side. “What about it, hon?”
“Why am I your . . . client?”
She frowned. “Oh. Radley didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?” Josh asked.
She rolled her eyes, then smiled. “Okay.” She lowered her voice. “I’m a working girl.”
“Sure. You cut hair.”
“And I’m also a working girl.” She laughed a little, a nice sound.
But Josh’s foggy brain couldn’t quite make the . . .
“I’m a member of the oldest profession,” Cammie said, clearly amused.
The riddles weren’t helping. He didn’t quite get it and sensed he didn’t want to.
She leaned forward. “I’m a consensual sex worker,” she whispered.
“Oh.” Josh said. A second later, he remembered to close his mouth. “Radley . . . Radley knows this?”
“Of course! That’s why he called me, Josh.”
“Oh.” He rubbed his hand across his face. “I thought we were on a . . . date.”
“We are, hon. You just pay me afterwards.”
“Oh.” He was saying that a lot.
“I’m my own boss, and I make quite a good living,” she said. “Another year, I’ll have about a hundred grand for Shine.”
“Wow. That’s . . . wow.”
“I like the work,” she said and she gave him a wink. “Do you have a problem with a woman who does this for a living?”
“Is it legal? Like, are you breaking the law right now?”
“Not a hundred percent legal. But I pay taxes. I tell the IRS I’m a consultant. Which, you know, I like to think I am.”
“I see.” Was he breaking the law right now?
“Check, please,” Cammie called, and the waiter came over. Josh felt like he was blinking a lot. He took out his wallet and left a big tip.