“They were very efficient with your file,” Sergio says. “Apparently, after you accepted your new position, they reevaluated your file and canceled the deferment. They sent you a letter to that effect informing you that your payment obligations had been reinstated.”

“I didn’t get it.”

“It seems from the file, they sent it to your previous address.”

“What?” My voice rises in pitch and I throw the covers off. “I told them my new address when I moved.”

Someone coughs in the background on Sergio’s end and I can hear the tinny sound of a PA. Definitely a hospital. Why would he call me from a hospital? Is he that dedicated to his work?

Sergio sighs. “You have issues with them, you deal with them. All I care about is the money you owe.”

“Please, Sergio. Can I pay part of it? I’ve got extra work and I’ll be able to pay the rest next week.”

“Unfortunately for you, I get a big fat bonus if you make all your rehabilitation payments on time, and an even fatter bonus if I get all the money at once, say from a foreclosure. And I need that bonus—” He cuts himself off, choking on his words.

Seriously? He’s getting upset over the possibility he won’t get his Porsche?

“Has the clock started ticking?” I scramble to find a way out.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Is your bonus calculated from the day I make the first payment or the day you first called me?”

Sergio gives a thin laugh. “Clever. I’ll be honest with you. It’s calculated from the day of your first payment.”

“What if I tell you a really good joke? Can I have an extra week? It won’t affect your bottom line. I’ve never sworn at you or called you names or hung up on you. It must be hard to have people be nasty all day. But if you’re nice to me, I’ll be nice to you.”

Silence.

“Sergio?”

“I’m thinking. This is quite novel. I’m trying to decide if it would affect my bonus.”

Jeez. This guy’s materialistic streak makes me ill. But I can do obsequious like the best of them. “I’ve seen the lineup for next year’s Porsche collection. To be honest, you would do better to wait.”

“You know about cars?”

I fall back against the pillows. He hasn’t said no, which means he might say yes. “My stepfather is into cars. I go with him to all the auto shows.”

“You continue to surprise and delight me, Ms. Delaney. Tell me your joke. If it makes me laugh, I’ll give you an extra week. It won’t affect my bottom line, and I could use a joke right now.”

I squeeze my eyes shut and try to slow my racing heart. Although our conversation has been cordial, I can’t ignore the underlying threat. My brain blanks. This is all so new. So foreign.

And that reminds me of a joke.

“Three debt collectors are captured by cannibals…”

***

Pick up. Pick up. Pick up.

Amanda answers her phone on the fourth ring. “How was dinner? Did you sleep with him?”

“No. I need—”

“You didn’t sleep with him?” Her voice rises with incredulity.

“No, but the debt collector called my house, and I need—”

“What happened?” she interjects yet again. “It was the perfect set up. Cozy dinner at his house. Talk about the relationship. Engage in hot and heavy makeup sex.”

“Amanda. I have a problem.”

“You sure do, honey. If you haven’t been able to get Max into bed by now, you need some special help.”

“He tied me naked to his motorcycle at Twin Peaks and walked away, and I liked it,” I blurt out.

Silence.

“Amanda?”

“I just knew he was kinky,” she breathes. “Like Drake, who is, by the way, in my kitchen getting a glass of water to rehydrate after our night of festivities.”

“Doctor Drake is at your house?” My voice rises in pitch. “You slept with Doctor Drake?”

“Jake is avoiding me,” she snaps. “It won’t do. And since we’re broken up, Drake was more than happy to help a girl in need. He knows the score.”

“He’s my boss!” I shriek. “You can’t sleep with my boss.”

“Ooops. Too late. The deed is already done. Multiple times.”

“Nooooo!” I am reminded of Edvard Munch’s painting The Scream. No doubt his muse was someone who discovered her best friend was sleeping with her boss.

“He certainly has creative ideas about how to use a thermometer,” she giggles. “And a stethoscope and—”

I hold the phone away from my ear. “Don’t tell me. Don’t tell me.”

“You should try it sometime.” Her voice takes on a teasing lilt. “You might like it.”

I wrap the sheet tight around my body as if she might suddenly appear with the aforementioned medical instruments. “I won’t. I’m not into kinky stuff.”

“How would you know? Yesterday was your first experience. When you do finally get Max into bed, he’s going to think he’s the luckiest man alive. You’re like a virgin minus the virginal bit. A blank slate. He can mold you to fit his kinkiest desires, and you’ll think it is normal.”

My body heats imagining Max’s kinkiest desires. Suddenly, the sheet is too hot and I kick it off, letting the cool air soothe my burning skin. “I’m not totally unaware of what goes on in the bedroom.”