Page 3 of The Pleasure of Panic

Chella cocks her head at me with one of those are-you-fucking-kidding-me looks she gives me often.

“What?”

“It’s Valentine’s Day,” she says.

“Oh.” I’m so not interested in thinking about that right now. So I start shuffling papers on Suzanne’s desk to make that clear.

“You’re coming over.”

I smile at her. Because she’s Chella and she’s sweet, and smart, and beautiful, and so that’s what everyone does when she tries to butt into their lives for what she feels is a very good reason. She’s old-money rich. Her father is a senator. Walcott is his name. Senator Walcott. He’s been in DC for like thirty years. Which makes him powerful. Very powerful. I’ve never met him, so maybe my opinion of him is off, but on TV, when he’s standing up there preaching to people about morals and ethics, all I see is… lies.

And that’s what I expected when I heard his daughter owned the tea shop across the street. But that’s not what I got once she came over to introduce herself.

She is nothing like her father. I almost can’t even imagine her sweet face next to his sour one. I brought him up once to try to feel her out, see what kind of relationship she has with him, because she’s never mentioned him. Not once. But she just said, “Smith and the baby are my family now.”

“I am not going over there.” I say it with firm conviction. That’s what I do. That’s who I am. Issy Grey, life coach extraordinaire. Filled up with the firmest of convictions.

“You are,” Chella says. “Remember that game I told you about?”

“Oh, God, not this again. Come on, Chella. You know I’m not interested in that stuff. Just let it go.”

“Listen,” she says, leaning into my ear like she’s gonna whisper a secret. “I have the game master over there. He almost never takes meetings with clients. It’s almost always done anonymously. But for you, he made an exception.”

“Am I supposed to be impressed that some man has made time for me?” I almost snort.

“This isn’t any man, this is the game master.”

“My answer is no, Chella. I’m not interested in a fantasy fulfillment game. Especially”—I do snort this time—“if it’s sexual. I can think of nothing I’d like less than that.”

She wraps her hands around my arm and leans in again. “That’s because you haven’t tried it yet.” And then she winks. “I played,” she says. “Couple years ago.”

“You did?” I’m surprised at this. Not that I should be, I guess. Considering who her friends are. Who her husband is. But Chella? She’s so sweet, and smart, and put-together. What in the world was she thinking?

“Mmmmmhmmm,” she coos. “It’s how I met Smith.”

“Real-ly?” I drawl, more than a little curious now.

“Yup. And let me tell you, it was the most fun I’ve ever had in my life. Plus, you know”—she wiggles her diamond at me—“I got marriage and a baby on the way out of it. Not to mention a bunch of cool friends.”

Elias Bricman. Quin Foster. Yeah, those are some friends, all right. They’re well known around town, but not for the things one typically wants to be known for. Kinky sex games, secret clubs, masculine power.

“Just come over and talk to him about it.”

“Who?” I ask. “Smith?”

“No, silly. The master. I can’t tell you his name. He tries to keep all this stuff on the down low because of his day job. But you already know him, so…”

“I know him?” I ask, blinking at her. Because despite my resolve to get away from her as quickly as possible so I can go home and just take a long, hot bath alone, I’m so very, very curious now.

“Yes. Personally.”

“Are you fucking with me right now?”

“No,” she insists. “Come over and see. Otherwise this little secret will eat away at you, Issy Grey. Forever. You’ll be kicking yourself tomorrow if you don’t satisfy your curiosity. And I know you,” she says, poking her finger into the fleshy part of my upper arm. “Your curiosity is insatiable. Just two weeks ago I mentioned a woman I know from the Denver Women’s Tea Brigade who found out her husband was cheating on her and emptied their bank accounts to get ready to bail, and you—”

“I found her,” I finish before she can. “And helped her. That’s all.”

Chella gives me one of those knowing looks, the kind with the raised eyebrow and a smirky grin that says, That’s all, huh?