Page 83 of The Billionaire's Wake-up-call Girl

“Turn around.”

I turn. She unhooks the back. “Oh, hell, yes,” she says. “This is an Iggy Miyaki!”

“Iggy...”

“Miyaki. A dress designer. Socialites love her stuff for the big parties. I heard about her when I nannied. You even see her stuff at the Oscars.” She turns me around and looks me in the eye. “This dress could be worth several thousand dollars.”

“Really?”

“Severalthousand.”

“You think they’ll let me return it for cash? I highly doubt it.”

“No, but they’ll let us return it for store credit.”

“And that helps me how?”

“You’ll see. Mia has a plan,” Mia says, unzipping the dress.

“Should I be scared that you’re undressing me and talking about yourself in third person right now?”

“Scared of how brilliant I am, maybe.”

We pack the dress back up and put on our best clothes.

Not an hour later, we’re in one of those West Side boutiques where they serve you champagne the minute you walk in the door. “I wish they would do this at Target,” I say, taking a glass.

“God, that would be dangerous.”

She straightens her spine and marches up to the counter. She talks to the woman in a low voice. Before you can saysweetheart neckline, we’re in possession of a store credit. Five thousand dollars’ worth.

I finger the card. “This would be the perfect thing…if Lenny was a high-fashion cross-dresser.”

“Part two.” We go outside and sit on a bus bench. She makes a few calls and eventually locates a woman who is willing to pay four thousand dollars cash for the gift card. “Little-known secret,” she says, pocketing her phone. “Rich women are the ultimate penny pinchers.”

An hour later, we have four thousand dollars cash from the dress and two thousand from the rings. We head to the bar in Murray Hill where Lenny’s crew is. It’s long and windowless and lit entirely with colorful neon beer signs, which makes everything slightly pinkish.

Lenny’s hunched over a beer at a booth in the back.

I slap the money down. He flips through the corner of the stack instead of counting it like a normal person. “Six large,” he says. “Where’s the rest?”

“Since this is two days early,” I try, “I thought maybe I could get a few extra days for the rest.”

He gives me a look that means no.

“I’m doing my best.”

He looks down at the stack. “I don’t want anything to happen to you, but…”

“A few more days.”

“I’ve given you a few more days.” He looks me up and down. “You want to work it off?”

“Do you have need of a baker?” I ask hopefully.

“Does the baker know how to lie back and spread her legs real nice?”

“Uh!” Mia grabs my arm. “She most certainly does not!”

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