She was probably the prettiest girl in her little neighborhood. Who in this sad-ass place could say no to that high beam smile? She was pretty, he allowed, but he had grown up with sun-kissed California girls, met Nigerian princesses, lounged on the beaches of Rio de Janeiro with Brazilian beauties, and bought items right off a model at Paris Fashion Week just to see her naked—so he could certainly handle DC pretty. So why were his nails digging into his palms? He was too wired. Perhaps he had smoked one too many.

When she saw that neither her Instagram barter nor flirting was working, she reached into her tiny purse and pulled out two crumpled ten-dollar bills.

The absolute nerve of this woman.

“I was saving this for the bar, but why don’t you hold on to it? You didn’t see me here,” she said—and winked! This woman winked! What kind of used-car salesperson was she?

“Sure, lady.” He took the twenty dollars and grinned. “Why don’t you let me put your signs in the kitchen? I know a real good place.”

“Oh, I couldn’t . . .” the woman said, though he could already see that she was considering it.

“There is no way to hide them in the ballroom. You’ll show your hand too soon. There’s security everywhere,” Dorsey offered sweetly.

“Really? I didn’t see much . . .” the woman said, looking around. “The fools who set this up put security on the entrances, but not the exits. All you have to do is catch someone coming out.” Of course this little hoodlum knew how to get around security.

“The person—er people who set this up are smarter than that. I’m kind of on the inside of this, so . . .”

The woman seemed to soften. “I guess you would know.” She nodded slowly. “Okay, you’re right . . . Actually, that’s a better idea. I should have thought about how it would look on the inside.” She patted his shoulder the way you would pat the haunches of an obedient pet.

Dorsey was nearly seething now. I am a damn thirty-year-old man!

“They can’t be paying you much here.” She looked into his eyes, all fake earnest, with the condescension that seemed to be the natural birthright of do-gooders. “But there are people out here who see your struggle.” She touched his sleeve again.

When had he given her permission to touch him so? His cheeks burned. A blush is a perfectly reasonable reaction to anger.