“What are you talking about?”

“Jake told Lemon you fucked a complete stranger in the men’s room.”

“That’s ridiculous!”

“He said he saw you talking, listened at the door, checked your panties for semen afterward. And found it.”

She grits her teeth. “Tell me about the hit woman.”

“This is the real deal. She’s not cheap, but she’s reliable.”

“How much does she want?”

“Two-fifty.”

“Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars? Are you crazy?”

“It’s that, or pay Jake $54 million to marry Lemon.”

She says, “I’d rather have half the money than wind up in prison.”

“I’ve already set up the meeting.”

“You’re joking.”

“She wants two-fifty to kill one, three-fifty to kill both.”

“I assume you’re willing to chip in?”

“I didn’t win the lottery,” he says, and our ridiculous two-million-dollar house Lemon had to have is bleeding me dry. “But if you pay the two-fifty I can find a way to do the extra hundred.”

“How do you know the hit woman’s for real?”

“I asked her the same thing.”

“And?”

“She said she’d prove it by killing someone we know that we don’t care about.”

“Excuse me?”

“That’s what she said.”

“And you said?”

“Byron Zass.”

“Lexi’s date?”

“The same.”

“I don’t understand.”

“The hit woman’s name is Maybe Taylor. If we decide not to use her I’ll owe her fifty grand for the conversation. I assume you’re willing to chip in?”

“No.”

Milo frowns. “Why not?”

“You took it upon yourself to contact this killer. You took it upon yourself to have the conversation. You already owed her the money before talking to me. If we go forward, I’ll be paying more than twice as much as you. And if we go forward, you won’t have to pay the fifty in the first place.”

He nods. “Okay.”

She looks around. “What’s this about Byron?”

I gave her his name. She said she’d kill him no later than Tuesday to prove she’s for real.”

“You believe her?”

“It makes sense. If she’s secretly working for the cops, they’d never let her kill someone.”

“We’d have to have proof Byron’s dead.”

“I told her that.”

“Supposing she kills him. When would we meet her?”

“Friday morning.”

“I’ve got spin class.”

“What time?”

“Eight a.m.”

“You can’t cancel?”

“No. All the wives will be there. If I don’t show up they’ll come to my house to check on me.”

Milo shakes his head. “It creeps me out to call this bitch. How about ten?”

“I can do ten.”

“I’ll call her.”

“I’m not going to meet her without proof,” Faith says.

“Me either.”

PART TWO: Callie and Creed

1.

STOMACH FLU’S A bitch, Callie thinks, clutching her tummy.

She falls to her knees, pukes on the hard wood floor of her penthouse condo. Tries to stand, but the cramping won’t let her straighten up. Headache, faintness, vertigo, burning sensation in her throat and mouth…

…And something else.

The stench isn’t right.

Gross, I know, she thinks, but sniffs her vomit anyway.

Something strange happening in her mouth. With hand under chin, she lowers her head, parts her lips, watches a steady drip of blood collect in her palm. When she spits, a tooth hits the pool like a stone, scattering the blood.

She blinks. Tries to comprehend what’s going on, how it could have happened.