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“I only have five minutes between clients. You really shouldn’t be here.”
“Tell me what happened,” I said.
She looked scared. “I could be fired. Arrested.”
You should have thought of that before you drugged someone. But I didn’t say it.
“If you don’t go back to The Beverly, they’re not going to go after you. And if you don’t do it again, I won’t have any reason to come after you. Tell me the truth. That’s how you protect yourself.”
“I can’t.”
“I’m not a cop. I’m not the aggrieved party. I can’t file a complaint. But if you don’t tell me exactly how you ended up at The Beverly last night and why you drugged Monroe, I’ll make sure that he files a complaint. I think the police will listen to him, don’t you?”
Rachel paled even more. I hoped she didn’t faint.
“Damn her,” Rachel muttered. “Britt and I went to high school together. Not friends, but we knew each other. She heard that I worked for a girlfriend experience—we’re not escorts. I don’t sleep with the guys, I’m just a hired date. For weddings and business events. I made a thousand bucks—more than I make here in two weeks!—for a weekend at the Waste Management golf tournament last year. Just to be arm candy for a nerd. Britt said her husband was having an affair but the PI she hired couldn’t prove it. She gave me a sob story and I fell for it.”
“That doesn’t explain why you roofied him,” I said.
Rachel winced. “She paid my date rate, and said she’d pay me $500 if I could get him to make a pass. Someone would get the picture. That’s it. She was in tears.”
“And you drugged him why?” I asked.
She glared at me. “I didn’t.”
“I’m not recording this conversation,” I said.
She wasn’t going to admit it. “Anyway,” Rachel continued, “I could tell he was not into me—color me shocked.” She flipped her sleek red ponytail over her shoulder. “He wanted to know about this Jennifer. She wasn’t returning his calls. I told him she was fine, thought Britt was right, he was all into this Jennifer chick, then he said something weird, like he was worried about her safety and she needed to call him. Wanted to know how to reach her because she wasn’t returning his calls.”
Though I suspected I knew the answer, I asked, “Why was he asking you about Jennifer?”
“Britt said to drop her name when I called to make the date.”
“You didn’t tell Logan it was a date,” I said.
She didn’t say anything at first.
“Rachel, this is important. Brittney hired you to set up her husband. You can’t be okay with this.”
“I’m not. It just—the way she talked, it didn’t seem like a big deal.”
“What did you tell Logan so he agreed to meet with you?”
“I said Jennifer asked me to call, wanted us to get together to talk. That was it.”
“Have you met Jennifer?”
“Don’t even know who she is.” She twirled the end of her ponytail in her fingers, tears in her eyes. “Britt said give him a little boost if he didn’t seem interested. I swear, I’ve never done anything like that before. I wasn’t going to sleep with him. God, I’m not a prostitute or anything. I just was going to let him kiss me, maybe get to second base, let the PI—you—get a couple pictures. That was it. I swear.”
Rachel was in a near-panic and I believed her. Still, I pushed. “What did Brittney tell you about Jennifer?”
“Only that her husband was obsessed with her and she wanted to find out how long they’d been involved. That was it.”
So nothing I said to Brittney sunk in—that Logan wasn’t having an affair, with Jennifer or anyone. She set him up.
Rachel pleaded. “I’m telling you the truth. I’ve never done anything like this before and I swear to God I’ll never do it again.”
Rachel was scared enough not to do something like this in the future, at least for a while. I hoped this near-miss with a sexual assault case would keep her clean for the rest of her life.
