For a long moment, the Velvet Spur seemed to hold its breath. Then Money Birdette did something no one had seen her do in public before.
The Venetian was a rival—a silk-scarf-wearing dilettante with a yacht and the emotional depth of a puddle. He’d been trying to buy Birdette a private island for the past week.
The Venetian laughed. “Pennies. He brought you pennies .”
Johnny Love had exactly seventeen dollars, a half-empty tin of breath mints, and a plan that he was certain would either make him a legend or get him laughed out of the borough for good.
“I wanted to impress you.”
“Rolled pennies feel like a transaction.” Johnny shrugged. “Polished pennies feel like a promise.”
“Probably.” Johnny walked in.
“We’ll see,” she said. But her thumb traced a small circle on the back of his hand.
