I shrugged. “You want to call my bluff?” I said. “I have the arrest papers, plus an eyewitness account from one of the officers who took him in. Right here on my phone.”
Swinging Dick bit his lip. He gulped so hard I could see his T-shirt collar moving. “Those are…Those records aren’t supposed to be public.”
“Yeah? Neither is my Social Security number, asshole.”
He switched off his tablet. “What do you want me to do?” he said.
“Nothing you don’t want to do yourself,” I said. “I’d hate to see you take on work that you find uninteresting.”
“I’ll do the job,” he said.
“That’s a start.”
“You don’t have to give me any money.”
“Better.”
“And I’ll, uh…I’ll also get rid of all your personal info.”
“Now we’re talking.” Since I didn’t fully trust him, I watchedover his shoulder as he deleted the code, as well as all the documents he’d turned up as a result.
“Will you get rid of the arrest papers?” he asked.
I shook my head. “I won’t share them with anybody,” I said. “That’s the best I can offer.”
He looked at Ralph.
“I’d do what she says if I were you,” Ralph said.
“Okay.” He said it meekly. “It’s a deal.”
I wondered how easy it would be for him to get an IP address for Book Babe—and if he did, whether I’d be able to abandon my misgivings about using it. None of that mattered to me now, though. I had a possible way to help Melanie Joan, and Swinging Dick looked miserable about it. Win-win. I raised my glass of champagne and took a sip. It was delicious. “Glad we have something to toast, Terry,” I said.
Twenty-four
“So this is what you do when I cancel out on you,” Richie said. “You go to nightclubs and drink champagne with guys named Swinging Dick.”
“Don’t sleep on me, sweetheart,” I said. “I’m a hot commodity.”
“So I’ve learned.” Richie grinned.
“Wish I could teach you further,” I said. “In person.”
“Me, too,” Richie said.
I smiled. I loved being around him, even if it was just over FaceTime. It was close to two a.m. He’d texted me after he’d gotten home from work, asking if I was still awake. I’d called right back. We’d been talking for a while. We were both in bed. But unfortunately, they were separate beds, 290 miles apart. It was better than nothing, though.
We’d both recounted our days, like an engaged couple living under the same roof. I’d just told him how, despite my misgivings, I’d acted on his suggestion and called his dad for tech support.
“How do you think Melanie Joan is doing now?” Richie said.
“Sleeping, I hope.”
After I’d left Icon, I’d texted Tony, telling him that I had a new lead on Book Babe. I’d figured he’d be sound asleep in his own hotel room, and that he’d reply the next morning. But he’d texted right back:Still in MJ’s suite, he’d typed.Harold and I are sleeping in shifts.According to Tony, Melanie Joan had tried to wrestle her phone away from Harold and escape the hotel. Twice. Each time, it had taken both of them to subdue her, and so Tony had opted to stay. I shared all of that with Richie.
“Not sure I get it,” Richie said. “Why?”
“Tony said Melanie Joan wanted to clap back at Leila Donnelly.”
