Kera didn’t have to say a word. She simply held the clipboard she’d stuffed in her backpack—much to Erin’s initial annoyance—and, when Erin gave her the signal, she pretended to write on it.

Erin did all the heavy lifting and Kera soon realized that Erin could get whatever she wanted simply by opening her mouth and talking. Apparently if people weren’t Crows, they were “fair game” to Erin Amsel.

They received no cash, but the checks were piling up nicely, even though Kera had no idea how much they’d made since numbers were never mentioned out loud. Instead, Erin would watch her fair game write out a check and as soon as the number portion was being filled in, she’d wince or crinkle up her nose . . . and suddenly the pen would pause and the number would change.

It was fascinating!

Kera firmly believed there were con artists everywhere. In the military, in big business, at school bake sales. But for the first time, she saw the benefit of having them around, because Erin was really good at what she did.

Erin eventually put in a call to one of the Crows who worked as an executive at a bank. She told her to set up a business account for Kera’s “nonprofit thing. I don’t know. Something with dogs and Marines. No. Not porn.” Erin glanced at her. “Right? Not porn.”

Kera stared at the woman for several long seconds before replying, “No. Not porn.”

“Yeah. Not porn,” Erin laughingly told the Crow. Then, with the account being taken care of, they continued on until they ended up back at the sound stage where Yardley was filming her commercial.

“It’s going long,” Yardley complained while sipping a freshly made berry-and-banana shake.

“How hard is it to shoot a commercial of you standing in front of a luxury car while wearing that stupid designer dress?”

“You’d think not hard at all.” She glared over at the director. “But apparently . . . the lighting has to be just right.” She suddenly stared at Erin. “But you guys aren’t done yet, are you?”

“Well—”

“Are you?”

“Actually, we are. But, I have a little gift for Kera.”

“For me?”

“Yeah. You’re doin’ Vig Rundstöm, right?”

Kera shrugged. “Yeah.”

Yardley giggled. “I love how honest you are.”

But Kera would never be with anyone she wasn’t proud of claiming as her own. Besides, might as well let these bitches know that Vig was taken. At least for the moment.

“Well, this will be a gift for him, too,” Erin said. She pointed at Yardley. “Can we take your car? We need to go to West L.A.”

“What’s in West L.A.?”

“You’ll see. Yardley?”

“Yeah. Whatever.I’ll sadly be another couple of hours.”

Erin and Yardley hugged, then Yardley was hugging Kera.

As they started to walk off, Yardley held up one finger to halt them, and said over her shoulder, “Clem?”

The director practically ran over to her. “Yes? What do you need?”

“Did you contribute to my friend’s organization?”

The director sized Kera up and seemed unimpressed. “You know, darling, I actually have my accountant handle all my financial stuff, including charities.”

“She’s a vet, Clem. Fought for this country . . . or whatever. She was even over in one of those, like, desert countries. Istanbul or whatever.”

“Afghanistan,” Kera gently corrected.

“Exactly! Do you think she was over there getting one of those Afghan dogs? No! She was there fighting for our country, Clem. Our country!”

Kera frowned and glanced at Erin, who was silently laughing.

“You can’t ignore a vet,” Yardley went on, her bright blue eyes locked on the director. “Not if you expect me to stay late and not complain online to the universe that you didn’t help a war vet.”

Poor Clem blew out a breath and softly said, “I’ll go get my checkbook.”

“You do that, gorgeous.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Kera told her, but Yardley waved that away with her well-manicured hand.

“Don’t even sweat it. It’s the least the bald-headed bastard could do.”

“Sorry you have to stay late.”

“Yeah. It blows. But the later the shoot runs, the more penalties he racks up.”

“Penalties?”

“Yeah.” She shrugged. “I get like ten grand extra every half hour he goes over the schedule. So . . . it’s not really that big a deal to me.”

Kera didn’t realize her mouth had dropped open until Erin gently closed it.

Clem returned. He started to hand over a check to Kera but Yardley snatched it out of his hand and studied it for several seconds. “This’ll do,” she said before handing the check to Erin.

“Can I get back to work now?” Clem asked Yardley.

“Of course. Because,” she said to his back as he walked away, “tick-tock, tick-tock, cha-ching!”

Then she laughed and it was kind of evil.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Kera gazed up at the small West Los Angeles shop.

“A tattoo parlor?”

“My tattoo parlor. Come on.”

Kera followed Erin inside. As soon as they walked in, the other tattoo artists greeted Erin with smiles and hugs. Like they were actually happy to see her. The clients gazed at her as if they were seeing a Yardley-level superstar.