“I forgot my phone,” Amy says, more to herself than anyone else. She heads straight for her preferred seat and rummages about on the dressing table before grabbing her phone that lays face down at the end of the bench, partly hidden by an orange towel. “Who put that there?”
It was Dallas, I think. I’m sure I can recall seeing her shunting that gaudy towel to the side when she was checking her makeup.
Amy looks about to walk straight back out when Jasmine says, “Come with us.”
“My Uber’s waiting,” Amy replies.
“Text them. They’ll wait – you’re paying.”
“A fortune, if this takes long.”
“Come on,” Jasmine cajoles.
Amy looks from Jasmine to me, and frowns. “What’s this about?”
“I think your eyes are needed,” I tell her with a wink.
Pouncing on her hesitation, Jasmine shunts Amy throug
