Free What A Girl Wants by Liz Maverick

head at Hayley, then sneezed and grabbed a couple of paper napkins from the canister to handle the result. She appeared to have cold symptoms in June. Failure had that effect on her. And Hayley’s colossal raise disaster was a pretty big failure.
    After Hayley’d e-mailed the girls detailed messages on Friday with the bad news, Audra had sent a reply—typed entirely in capital letters—that she’d gone home early from work, sick with “a blotchy swelling stuffiness.” Now anyone could see that Audra’s glossy bobbed haircut was in more than the usual disarray (thecenter part wasn’t straight), and that, while swelling wasn’t apparent, light pink blotchy patches did, indeed, blanket her face and arms—and she was clearly stuffy.
    Hayley didn’t want to think about what might happen to Audra if the whole Beer Garden episode came out right now. Cardiac arrest was not something she was prepared to deal with on a Sunday morning.
    With one hand gripped around one of Gerttie’s monster-sized orange juices, Audra railed on. “When we went home on Thursday night, you were all set. How could it all have escalated so quickly, with such nightmarish results? These things don’t happen to me. And I coached you. I feel responsible.”
    â€œIt was self-sabotage, really,” Hayley explained, then took a fortifying swig of latte. “That’s what it was. I was avoiding actually making a big decision for myself. I set things up so that I ended up with what I probably needed, but I made someone else do the dirty work. And it definitely wasn’t a graceful exit. I don’t blame you . If I’d just followed your—”
    â€œSo, Hayley,” Suz interrupted. “Let’s get to the good stuff. Tell me, when the dog went under your skirt . . . were you turned on at all?”
    Three coffee spoons fell to the Formica tabletop with a clang. Hayley stared at Suz, her jaw practically in her lap.
    â€œNot even just a teensy-weensy little bit?”
    â€œNo!”
    â€œIgnore her,” Audra said. “She’s just trying to shock you.”
    Suz shrugged. “Just curious.”
    â€œGross,” Diane said, shuddering.
    â€œDidn’t Bud ever give you head?”
    Poor Diane blushed scarlet.
    Suz leaned forward with a wicked smile. “Well, you said he was like a shar-pei. . . .”
    â€œLeave her alone,” Audra said. “You’re the one with a predilection for sleeping with dogs.”
    â€œHa-ha. Ugly men can be excellent in bed. Overcompensation theory.”
    â€œOh, shut up, Suz . . . you know, something’s weird about all this.” Diane looked Hayley over. “You’re not acting like you normally do after this kind of catastrophe. Something’s . . . off. It’s not your mental state, is it?”
    â€œWhat are you talking about?” Hayley asked in alarm.
    Diane leaned in close and sniffed Hayley three times in quick succession. “It’s physical. I smell alcohol.”
    Audra turned slightly puce. “I don’t want to know. Don’t tell me anything,” she muttered, and then blew her nose into a paper napkin.
    â€œYou can’t possibly smell alcohol on me. I showered this morning.”
    Diane sniffed some more. “Residual. You had a hangover yesterday, didn’t you?”
    Audra looked over at Suz in a daze as if she were trying to put pieces together but couldn’t make them fit. Suz smiled cheerfully at her. Audra frowned back, suspicious.
    The sound of Diane’s persistent sniffing grew louder. Hayley put her hand on Diane’s forehead and pushed her head away. “Stop smelling me. It’s gross.”
    â€œIt’s objective analysis,” Diane said, trying not to laugh. “Did you lose your job and get plastered as a way to forget your humiliation and despair?”
    Suz snorted. It was a