Free Slave to Love by Julie A. Richman Page B

ravenous attack on the greasy meal has grossed him out, causing his hasty departure or if my slutty little nipples did the trick with their aggressive behavior. Either way, I never said thank you or good night to him.
    With hands cleaned and teeth rebrushed, I crawl back into bed and grab my phone to text him. So, was he checking on me, too? I wonder. A burger at this hour? Is he just taking care of me? Or was he concerned he wouldn’t find me?
    I didn’t thank you for the burger or say goodnight.
    Did you enjoy it? You gave me meat. Of course I enjoyed it.
    Understatement! I didn’t realize how hungry I was.
    If I’d known we weren’t eating dinner tonight, I would have taken you out for a proper meal. Hmm, sounds like a slam against Bob.
    LOL. If I’d known we weren’t eating tonight, I’d have been ditching out with you a lot earlier for a delicious burger.
    Well, big day tomorrow, so get some sleep.
    You, too. And thanks, Hale.
    My pleasure. Good night, Sierra.

    The sound of my cell phone ringing hurts my eyelids. And maybe my hair follicles, too. Everything hurts. Fumbling on the night stand, I grab the shrill devil and see it’s Monica calling. But it’s only 6:15 A. M. What the heck?
    “Hello.” Ugh, I sound so rough.
    “We’re here. What room are you in? We’re coming up.”
    Swinging my door open a few minutes later, the harsh hallway light is too much to bear and I hide back under the covers the minute they are in the room.
    “Rough night, Princess? You smell like a distillery.” Monica is very amused by my appearance.
    “Very nice,” is Beverly’s assessment as she stalks the room. “You management types get treated very nicely while us peons get to come for breakfast and aren’t even invited to the main event.” She references the fact that only Kemp, Bob and I will be representing the company at Universal Studios today.
    “Give Bob shit about it when you see him later.” I then proceed to tell them the story about the night before.
    Jumping off the bed, Monica grabs the garbage pail. Pushing the Tommy Burger bag aside, she finds the key and screeches, “Noooooo.”
    Holding the sides of my pounding head. “He’s gross.”
    “And Robyn fucks him.” Beverly is shaking her head and then goes into her spot-on Robyn imitation. “He’s my,” pausing and in a breathy voice, “MEN-tor.”
    Even laughing hurts, but when the three of us are together I’m usually crying I’m laughing so hard, and this morning is no exception.
    “When did you get the Tommy Burger?” Monica tosses Bob’s key back into the garbage, its rightful place.
    “Hale brought it to me last night.”
    “When?” Beverly needs facts.
    “I don’t know. It was late. I was already in bed.”
    “Oh my God, he was checking on you to see if you were with Bob.” Monica gives Beverly a look.
    “You think? I was wondering that last night. Do you think that’s what he was doing?”
    “Absolutely,” Beverly concurs with Monica. “After you told him you don’t shit where you eat, he had to make sure you didn’t take off with the president when you wouldn’t go with him. Male egos are so fragile.”
    “I can’t wait to meet him. Go dry your hair and get dressed so we can get down to Bungalow 4, the Sex Palace.” Monica shimmies.
    Emerging from the bathroom, I’m dressed and ready to start this day that’s been in the planning for months now. Dressed in a white silk tank, turquoise pencil skirt, Louboutins and for the first time in months, my mermaid necklace, with its new chain that drops the mermaid to the top of my cleavage. I know a certain someone will enjoy this outfit. Déjà vu.
    “You look gorgeous,” Monica gives me the once over.
    “I can’t wait to meet this Hale.” Beverly is already at the door.
    Grabbing my turquoise suit jacket, I sling it over my arm as we head out of the main building and down the path toward the now infamous Bungalow 4.

Entering the bungalow, which is smaller than mine,