Monica’s little fan club. The men looked as if they had abandoned all thoughts of going back to work. They were chatting Monica up and taking unsolicited pictures with their cell phones. Only Rookie was equally horrified; he growled and shook his head at Snookie, as if warning him to either stay back or become his newest squeaky toy. Alan stayed by Lacey’s side, but from the way he kept shifting his gaze from Monica to Lacey, she knew he too was fascinated. She was losing control of the situation. She needed to get Alan out of here. But Alan was already gone, chatting with Monica, head-to-head, mouths moving a mile a minute. She wasn’t used to watching Alan talk without signing; it was like an out-of-body experience. What did their voices sound like? Was Monica’s pretty? With any luck she sounded like a truck driver. Lacey marched over and put her arm around Alan’s waist. “Let’s go back to your hotel,” she said. “Celebrate. Romantic. Just the two of us.” “I’m taking you two out to dinner,”
