The next five days pass without much excitement. Candace calls me on FaceTime Monday morning while I’m making my coffee. Answering, I prop my phone on the counter while I add cream and sugar to my mug.
“Hey girl,” I say when the call connects and the screen is filled with her face.
Candace is pretty, beautiful by my standards. She’s got medium length straight brown hair that is currently in a messy bun on top of her head, hazel-blue eyes, high cheek bones, and a wide smile.
“I did’t expect you to be awake already,” she says in lieu of an actual greeting.
Sipping my coffee, I say, “the club is being professionally cleaned so I’m off until Friday. Despite sleeping in the mornings after work, I’m still a morning bird.”
Knowing that I depleted my savings buying my trailer and the move,
