“What about me?” Rachel said breaking my mood with her condescending tone, again.“I can’t stay in that godforsaken cabin forever.” Rachel co...plained “You have to help fake my death.”I sat their stunned and pissed. What the hell was she talking about; faking her death? This wasn’t a movie or a Kathy Reichs novel. This was real life, with cops, and forensics and the Russian Mafia. I’m just a glorified go-fer at the morgue, and Kim waits tables. And what was this “you have to help” crap?“Rachel, I. They checked her and carried her wrestling body back to the save bosom of their friendship, from where she sent bolts of venom to the goal of her hatred.Angique gathered her purse and magazine. Then she rose from the table, wished the girls a lovely afternoon and left. She put a generous amount of sway in her step and when she reached the exit, she dropped a piece of elastic band in the pink bin.Once in a while the Club's Salon was cleared to create a dance floor at its center. An all female. More

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