Chapter 2

And just like that, the giggles are gone now, and the beginning of tears prick her tired eyes. Blinking them away, she quickly scans the rest of the listing. This is the last one, she swears. After this, she goes to bed.

Do you like cats? I’m looking for a reliable, trustworthy person to come by at least twice a day during the week to feed my cats and change the litter boxes. Sitting and playing with them for a half hour every day is a plus.

“Every day?” Why would someone bother to have a cat if they aren’t going to be home to care for it?

The listing continues: $20 each visit, plus mileage if you have to drive more than 20 minutes to my house. Occasional vet or groomer visits will be paid extra.

Dayla has to read that twice. Forty bucks just to feed a cat twice a day and scoop its poop? That’s the easiest money I’ll ever make. Damn.Even a good tip on a cut and dye tops out around thirty bucks. And she gets paid more if she has to go to the vet or groomer.

Though, realistically, how often does a cat need to be groomed? They clean themselves, and don’t roll around in mud and shit like dogs. There might be a vet visit or two—for shots, probably—but going to the groomer’s doesn’t sound likely.

Forty dollars a day. Under the table, too. Surely the person who placed the ad isn’t going to give her a 1099 at the end of the year, the way Blossom does. So she probably won’t even have to claim the payments on her taxes.

Forty bucks to take care of a cat on her own time. Hell, she can do that.

Without thinking about it further, Dayla clicks on the Apply Nowlink. When she’s filled out the short application, she finally turns off the phone and gets to bed.2

The next morning, Dayla hits the snooze button one too many times before realizing she hasto get out of bed now. She skips breakfast, skips the shower, skips her usual thirty-minute hair and makeup routine, and hurries out the door still smoothing the wrinkles out of her skirt.

As she drives to the salon, she takes advantage of the stop lights to apply her makeup. She manages to get half her face done by the time she pulls into the small public parking lot down the block from Blossom. There she finishes the job, drawing hasty lines across her eyelids and staring wide into the rearview mirror as her mascara dries. The clock on the dash says it’s 8:01, but will anyone reallyget all bent out of shape because she’s a minute late? Make that five, she thinks, getting out of the car. Thank goodness neither of her bosses are opening with her today.

On her way to the salon, she spots the neon Starbucks sign down the street and groans. God, she could use a double shot of just about anything right now. Her feet are dragging, her eyes burn, every muscle in her body aches…I seriously can’t be staying up so late anymore, she tells herself, knowing full well she’ll do it again soon enough. Can she help it if she doesn’t get tired before midnight?

If only I wasn’t tired now

But she has a client scheduled for 8:15, and she still needs to get her station ready for the day, boot up the computer, review the salon’s email, check the phone messages…half a dozen things need to be done before she can take a breather, and no one’s supposed to be in to help her out until ten. Thank God we aren’t busier, she thinks as she unlocks the front door of the salon. The security alarm beeps slowly, then picks up speed as it counts down. She reaches the keypad across the room and enters the code just in time to keep the alarm from going off.

With a terrible yawn, she slaps her cheek to wake herself up. “Look alive,” she mutters. If only she had enough time to run down to Starbucks…

But no. It’s already ten after; where’s the time going? She hurries to get ready, expecting her client at any moment. Once she has her station set up the way she likes it, she turns on the computer at the reception desk and checks the salon’s voicemail while it boots up. The first message is her boss, Kiki, and her heart thuds in her throat until she realizes the call came in late last night and notfirst thing this morning when Dayla should’ve already been at work. Something about a repairman coming by later, Dayla doesn’t quite follow, and before she can replay it, the next message starts.