But she didn’t look quite right, Phoebe realized. She was pale and misty and almost blue, and her clothes and hair seemed to drift a bit. “Like a ...host,” as Ruth had put it. Oh God, thought Phoebe. I lied to Ruth about having nightmares like hers and now it’s coming true. I should have told her I have dreams about screwing Mr. Dane like a cat in heat. I’d much rather be dreaming about that…Abbie looked precisely as she did every day in class, right down to the school uniform. She smiled, a cold. She told herself itwould be stupid to turn it down. The sooner all the debts werecovered, the sooner she could get back to saving for herretirement. Her looks weren't going to last forever, and shortof writing an autobiography, she wasn't sure what else she knewwhat else she could do.That was it then. She tried to put her misgivings aside. Afterall, it was only one job. How bad could it be? * * *"Is there anything in particular you'd like me to wear? I. More

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