Chapter 5
Her steps falter. Come around…is this from Ms. Meredith?
She pulls up the list of calls and sees the number is the same one Ms. Meredith called her from earlier.
An image rises unbidden to her mind—a rich woman lounging beside an Olympic-sized swimming pool, water twinkling opulently in the afternoon sun. Tanned skin slathered with heady coconut oil, muscles firm and belly taut, perky breasts augmented by implants that cost more than Dayla makes in a year.
Don’t forget a fruity boat drink garnished with a jaunty umbrella, and maybe a hot pool boy for a little eye candy if there isn’t a Mr. Meredith in the picture. God, I left Richmond behind for Beverly Hills.