The last of the Monroe models, a six-foot curvy goddess of a woman, comes up to me, a slightly embarrassed expression on her face. “Mr. Monroe just walked to take his bow, but he asked me to give you this. Sorry!” She presses a kiss to my cheek, and I smile, fingering the skin she just touched. “What was that for?” “Luck and mental diversion, he said.” Then she shrugs as if she has no clue what any of that means. I laugh. That man. “Thank you. I needed that.” The man knew exactly how to pull me out of my head and get me to calm down and smile. It worked.
