Amanda heard the growing sound of stilettos hitting the marble floor into her office, and continued to sip her margarita. The stilettos came to a stop and the door of Amanda’s office opened.

“Oh, it’s you,” Amanda said as she took a look at Rachel.

“Becoming an alcoholic I see.”

“Humph. Like I’d ever turn out to be a drunk like you.”

“I found the pictures,” Rachel grabbed the stack of photos out of her purse and threw them on the desk in front of Amanda. Rachel crossed her arms and the corners of her cherry glossed lips rose.

“Like anyone would believe some Photoshop crap like that. You obviously have too much time on your hands,” Amanda knew the pictures were real, but she couldn’t let on.

“I know you were desperate for money, but prostitution? That could ruin your career!” Rachel said with sarcastic worry.

“You think I’m worried about that? Honey, I’ve gone to Hell and came back. You don’t scare me.”

“I should, because these could go to the cops.”

Amanda put down her drink. “What do you want?”