PSYCHOS AND PHONES-

For a moment, Briseis thought that she was hallucinating. As if she were in a dream, her arm slowly stretched out and her hand brushed against Achilles' cheek to see if he really was real. He felt real for sure.

Achilles raised his eyebrows at this surprising gesture and said slowly,

"Youuuuu..."

"What about me?" Briseis snapped suddenly, red, hot anger blooming in her cheeks again.

And suddenly, she was in full rage.

"Why the heck are you suing me? Do you know how much trouble you've gotten me into?" She pushed him with all her strength. "And you thought that answer machine hurt? Well, buddy, taste some real pain!"

Briseis pulled the phone over to clobber Achilles on the head and all of sudden, she heard a "snap!" and she realized that she had ripped the phone off the rest of the machine. Holding up the silent phone, she looked back gloomily at its cradle and wondered why she was always breaking things.

"You were saying?" Achilles challenged, now smirking smugly at the sad looking phone.

Without hesitation, Briseis threw it at him and fled.

BACK TO HELEN'S HOT SPOT-

As soon as Helen hanged up the phone, she suddenly wished she hadn't. What the heck was she supposed to do now? Sneak out of her own boutique?

'Sneak out of my own boutique,' Helen mused. 'I didn't know I could be so imaginative.'

Patting herself on the back for her own creative mind, she grabbed her handbag and turned around to find... Paris.

"AHHHHHHH!"

Helen stepped backwards and snatched up the only weapon she could find: A blow dryer.

"Don't scare me like that!" she whispered in a shaky voice.

"Ok, I'm sorry," he said, holding up his hands and heading for her.

"Stay back!" Helen exclaimed, whipping out the blow dryer. "Stay back, you... psycho!"

Paris scratched his head. Was this supposed to be some kind of a test that he had to pass to become a model? Did she expect him to fight back? He looked around and seized a tall bottle of raspberry-flavored hairspray, which only made Helen's eyes widen even more.

"Are you... you going to kill me?" Helen squeaked. "With my own hairspray?"

"Uh, no," Paris chuckled. "I'm here to become a model. Remember?"

Just to help her remember, he struck a pose while spraying the hairspray all over his curly hair. A bit of it got on his lip and he licked it.

"Hmmm... raspberry," he grinned. "Do you want some?"

Helen looked at his outstretched hand that held the hairspray bottle. Then, she knocked it away and shoving him out of her way, Helen ran from the room after saying loudly,

"You're fired!"

CAFÉ TROY-

To Andromache, home, sweet home wasn't exactly a sweet home. A few years back, they had all lived in a huge, spread out ranch house on the suburbs of New York City. Now, they lived in a miniature apartment right above the coffee shop so Hector could get the work earlier.

The apartment had only 3 bedrooms, a kitchen, and a bathroom and the rent was still mind-blowing every month.

To get into the apartment meant that you would have to go into the café first and to enter Café Troy, you would either have to buy something or Hector would tie an apron around your waist and start ordering you around.

And that was exactly what Hector did. He sneaked up behind Andromache and secured a frilly, bubble-gum pink apron around her waist before handing her a list of instructions that stated:

Make coffee because I don't how to.

Feed people for money in return.

Warn me if a persistent tax collector enters the building.

Andromache stared at number three.

"Hector," Andromache said slowly. "How much money do we have in our piggy bank?"

Hector sighed gloomily and took out the piggy bank from underneath his jacket. Turning it upside down, he dumped out what was inside onto the counter. There were only a few crumpled bills and a bunch of rusty coins. Andromache's heart sank as she counted. The total was only about $80 and there was only a bit more in the cash register.

"We're doomed," Hector groaned. "Doomed, I tell you!"

"No, we're not!"

Briseis and Paris were both standing in the doorway where they had been listening.

"Paris and I thought of an idea," Briseis said quickly. "This way, he can pay back whatever he owes you and he can improve the café's business."

Paris continued for her. "Well, you know how I like girls and how girls like me?"

Hector glowered at him.

"Well, anyway," Paris rushed on. "I could be an advertisement. We'll attract girl customers with me. I'll give them a kiss on the cheek in exchange for them buying something worth a dollar. They get two kisses for two dollars."

"We've already made a sign!" Briseis exclaimed and Paris and her held up a huge piece of cardboard that shouted in bright purple letters:

ATTENTION TO ALL THE YOUNG LADIES OUT THERE:

BUY A PIECE OF SOMETHING WORTH A $1 TO GET A KISS FROM THIS YOUNG MAN HERE.

YOU GET TWO KISSES FOR $2 WORTH!

NOTE: THE YOUNG MAN PREFERS YOUNG WOMEN AND NOT OLD ONES.

At first, Hector felt ready to burst out laughing, but it was desperate times and desperate times call for desperate ways.

"You start work tomorrow," Hector said gruffly.