Lucy chuckled. “Yes, just day after day of nothing but sex, clubbing, sex, sex, sex.”

Mary Fran turned her sleepy gaze to Lucy. “It might be for the best. Sex is what got me in this mess to begin with.”

“But it’s such a good mess.” Lucy kissed her sister’s cheek, seeing once again why people used to say Mary Fran was a miniature version of herself. Her sister was two years older, five inches shorter, and God knew how many pounds lighter, but with the same color hair and eyes and light pink complexion. Her petite cuteness didn’t bother Lucy as much as it used to, and seeing her wrung out like this broke Lucy’s heart.

“Anyway,” she said with a sigh, “I only have a one-bedroom and we’d end up killing each other over bathroom countertop space.”

Mary Fran had no comeback for that, because she’d fallen asleep.

Theo took a seat at the conference table and smiled at Tyson on his right, then Lola on his left. Palm Club staff meetings were always painful, but today’s promised to be agonizing, because they were going to discuss the Lucy Cunningham project and Lola DiPaolo was already sneering at him.

Their boss, Ramona Cortez, regaled them with end-of-year sales figures and assigned trainers for several new clients, then gestured toward Theo. “Get us up to speed on how your fifteen minutes of fame is going.”

He felt the heat of Lola’s mascara-laden evil eye just before she said, “Fifteen minutes that’s gonna drag on for a whole frickin‘ year.”

Theo laughed along with every other trainer in the room, including his best friend, Tyson Williams, a bald and baby-faced former University of Florida running back who showed a bit of wear and tear that morning. Theo wondered which of Tyson’s favorite clubs had kept him from his beauty sleep.

“We’re doing great so far. We’re in here every weekday morning at five, so give her a little encouragement if you see her. She’s going to need all the support she can get.”