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“I reached into my bag, pushing past the lipstick and the crumpled old receipt, until I found what I was looking for. A single wrinkled dollar bill. I pulled it out and held it between two fingers, resting my elbow on the conference table. ‘I know it’s not your usual rate,’ I said, embarrassed, ‘but I could really use some help.’ Marco glanced at the bill, then at me.”
“Her lips parted slightly, but she didn’t step away. I was disappointed in her. I’d thought she was serious about staying sober. Guess not. ‘Hurry—go tell Max before I can get away.’”
“Did that disappoint you?” I wondered. “You like your women helpless?”
“Helpless isn’t my type. Mouthy little liars though? Apparently, I’ve got a weakness.”