Who was she telling?

“I know,” Taylor said. “But I think I’ve found a solution. Maybe.” She paused for a moment before asking, “Have either of you ever heard of Jamar Dixon?”

“The football player?” Samiah asked.

Taylor sat up straight. “Wait, you know about him? How? You don’t even watch football.”

“Actually, I do watch when Daniel is here on a Sunday afternoon, but being from Houston means I can’t escape high school football even if I tried. Jamar Dixon went to Katy High. He was one of the top recruits in the country his senior year. He went pro, but I can’t remember which team.”

“The Bears,” Taylor provided. “He was injured during his rookie season. Apparently he did a lot of rehab after surgery, but I guess the Bears thought he was still too much of a liability to keep him.”

“How do you know all of this about him?” Samiah asked.

“He signed up for the boot camp workout I held in Zilker Park earlier today. He wants to hire me to be his personal trainer.”

“Wow,” Samiah said. “Fancy.”

“Are you sure that’s all he wants?” London asked.

Taylor laughed. “My self-esteem is as healthy as the next chick’s, but even I don’t think I’m worth going through that much of a hassle.” She shrugged. “He said he needs a personal trainer and nutrition coach, so I’m going to take him at his word. I’m meeting him at a café in Round Rock tomorrow. If we decide to work together, I can at least use his fee to start paying down my debt.”

“Text us when you get there, when he shows up, when he leaves, and when you get back home,” London said.

“Sure, Mom. I’ll do just that,” Taylor said, rolling her eyes.

“Don’t be upset that people care about you, Taylor Marie.”

“Oh my God, now you do sound like my mother. And it’s Taylor Renee,” she said. “And, don’t worry, I promise to call you both as soon as I’m done speaking with the hot football player.”

“Is he hot?” London asked.

“Oh yeah,” Samiah said. “He’s too young for me, but so damn fine. You should Google him.”

“I’ll do that after my shift. I need to go,” London said as she shut the plastic lid on her salad container. “Oh, shit! I was supposed to call my stepmom. Forget it, she’ll just have to call my mom if she needs to bitch about my dad.”

“Wait,” Taylor said. “Your stepmother actually calls your dad’s ex-wife to complain about him?”