“Thank you.” He smiled. A second later, a distant bell chimed. “Wait. What . . . what did you just say?”

“I’ll make an exception for you, sweetie. Abso-fuckin’-lutely.”

“You called me . . .” What was the word she used? “A client?”

“Sure.” She shrugged. “But I could see us becoming friends, too.”

So nice! “Me, too.” What were they talking about again? “Um . . . the client part.”

She tipped her head, her shiny hair falling to one side. “What about it, hon?”

“Why am I your . . . client?”

She frowned. “Oh. Radley didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?” Josh asked.

She rolled her eyes, then smiled. “Okay.” She lowered her voice. “I’m a working girl.”

“Sure. You cut hair.”

“And I’m also a working girl.” She laughed a little, a nice sound.

But Josh’s foggy brain couldn’t quite make the . . .

“I’m a member of the oldest profession,” Cammie said, clearly amused.

The riddles weren’t helping. He didn’t quite get it and sensed he didn’t want to.

She leaned forward. “I’m a consensual sex worker,” she whispered.

“Oh.” Josh said. A second later, he remembered to close his mouth. “Radley . . . Radley knows this?”

“Of course! That’s why he called me, Josh.”

“Oh.” He rubbed his hand across his face. “I thought we were on a . . . date.”

“We are, hon. You just pay me afterwards.”

“Oh.” He was saying that a lot.

“I’m my own boss, and I make quite a good living,” she said. “Another year, I’ll have about a hundred grand for Shine.”

“Wow. That’s . . . wow.”

“I like the work,” she said and she gave him a wink. “Do you have a problem with a woman who does this for a living?”

“Is it legal? Like, are you breaking the law right now?”

“Not a hundred percent legal. But I pay taxes. I tell the IRS I’m a consultant. Which, you know, I like to think I am.”

“I see.” Was he breaking the law right now?

“Check, please,” Cammie called, and the waiter came over. Josh felt like he was blinking a lot. He took out his wallet and left a big tip.

“Should we go to your place?” Cammie said.

“Here’s the thing,” Josh said.

“Let’s talk outside,” she whispered. “In case there’s any undercover po-po around here.”

He followed, because he wasn’t sure what else to do. Undercover po-po? That would suck! Was he about to be arrested? Oh, God, what would his mother think? She’d kill him. Jen would never let him see the kids again, and—

It was a cool night, and the air helped the brain fog lift. They walked down the alley, like any good prostitute and her john. About halfway down, Josh stopped.

“Cammie, I don’t know how this works, but—” he said.

“That’s fine, sweetie. We can do whatever you want. You just have to Venmo me three grand.”

Jesus. That was a lot. Not that he’d ever paid for sex before, but that was a very high hourly rate. Focus, idiot, he told himself. “What I mean is, I don’t know how it works, but I don’t need to know because . . . I don’t want to sleep with you.” He felt himself flush, afraid he might hurt her feelings. “Also, I feel like I might be breaking the law,” he said. “Which I generally don’t do.”

“Oh. A good Catholic boy?”

“Lutheran.”

“Most of my clients are Catholic. I mean, this is Rhode Island.”

“Right.”

Cammie thought a minute. “Okay. Here’s the deal. You’re sweet. You’re lonely. I love your story, and you’re cute. I’ll kiss you for free. Anything else, you pay.”

“I didn’t want anything else. Not because you’re not beautiful or . . . you know. You’re very sweet and likable. And beautiful. I’m just . . .” He swallowed. “I’m still in love with my wife.”

The words sounded huge in the alley.

“Aw, sweetie. I get that. I do.” She leaned against the brick building. “I would kill to have someone be that in love with me.”

“I’m sure there are many people in love with you,” he said honestly.

She shrugged, smiling. “True. I just haven’t found the one, as they say. Well.” She tilted her head. “You ready to be kissed?”

“Oh. Um. Sure.” His face felt hot, and his hands were clammy.

“You want tongue?”

“No, thank you.”

“God. The manners on you.” She smiled, then leaned in and kissed him, their lips interlocking. His hands went to her waist. Her lips were very smooth and firm, and it was . . . nice. Quite nice. Lovely, in fact. He didn’t hate it. It just felt . . . new.

Then he pulled back. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Thank you, too, hon.” She wiped a little lipstick from the corner of his mouth. “We could be friends, you know.”

“I’d like that.”

She ruffled his hair. “Okay. Well, I got another date at ten, so if you don’t need me anymore . . . ?”

“I’m good. Thanks.”