“It’s okay.” Taylor laughed. She could do that more easily now that she had a clear path to digging her way out of this hole she’d been in for the past few years.

“I already told you guys about signing up for that coupon site. Well, because my rates were so reduced, I started putting things on credit cards. Then I bought all that merch to give away as ‘free’ advertising, but I didn’t get nearly the number of clients I thought I would.”

“Well, what about the money from YouTube?” Samiah asked. “I thought you said going viral over that mess with Craig sent a bunch of people to your YouTube channel? Don’t you make money based on the number of views you get?”

“Yeah, about that…Did you know when you’re self-employed you have to pay your income taxes every three months?”

“It’s called estimated taxes,” London said.

“I wish someone had clued me in. I didn’t even know I had to pay taxes on the money I made from YouTube.”

“Girl, you don’t play around when it comes to the IRS,” Samiah said.

“I know that now, but only after meeting my archenemies: penalties and interest.”

“Shit, Taylor,” London said. “No wonder you’ve been stressed. Maybe you should try hooking up with your fake boyfriend after all. You know, for medicinal purposes.”

“As if I need an excuse to hook up with him,” she said.

“Wait a minute now,” Samiah said, sitting up straight. “What are you not telling us?”

“Nothing,” Taylor lied. But what was the point in not telling them? In about three seconds it would look as though she were storing maraschino cherries in her cheeks. Stupid blush.

“Fine, okay. Maybe something happened,” she admitted.

“Did you already sleep with him?” London asked.

“No!” Taylor screeched. “May I remind you both that I am a professional? I cannot sleep with a client, no matter how much I want to.”

“So you admit you want to,” London said, as if she’d uncovered some big secret.

“Have you seen her client?” Samiah asked.

“Exactly! Have you seen him?” Taylor said. “Of course I want him. I want to screw him until his dick falls off. Then I want to put his dick back on and screw him again. But I can’t, because I’m a fucking professional.”

She picked up the wine and took a swig straight from the bottle.

“Honey, did you buy that vibrator like I told you to?” London asked.