Chapter Four
The next morning at work, Dee wasn’t quite as contrite as I’d expected her to be.
“Well, you got a gig paying double your rate, didn’t you?” she asked as she stirred milk into her coffee. I took it black, but she always doctored hers to the point where it must have tasted more like coffee ice cream than the real thing.
“That’s not the point,” I said. “You know you’re not supposed to give my private number to clients.”
She blew on her coffee, probably using the action as cover to decide how best to respond. There was no way in the world I would ever fire her over this sort of thing — I valued her help way too much for that — but she also needed to know not to do it again.
“Sorry,” she said at last. “I guess I felt sorry for him. I mean, it can’t be easy to get dumped as ho
