Page 9 of The Pleasure of Panic

Which, in my case, would be accurate. So I shut up.

But then she says, “I did that too.”

“What? A panic game?” Because that’s what’s still on my mind.

“No, the scene thing.”

“Jesus. Really? I thought you said Smith never let you do anything in the club?”

“We didn’t really. Well, one time he took me down there to watch. And we”—she cups her hand around her mouth and whispers—“fucked in front of a whole bunch of people.”

“Yes,” I breathe. “Like that. That’s what I was thinking. It’s not weird, is it?”

She shrugs. “A little.”

I narrow my eyes at her. “You never know when you should lie, do you? You’re supposed to say, No, Issy. It’s not weird at all.”

She laughs. “It’s not weird if you understand why you want it.” She stares at me for a few seconds. “Do you know why?”

It’s my turn to shrug. “It’s just… kinda sexy, that’s all.”

She inhales, exhales, then nods. “So… I’ve heard that when Turning Point was in full swing, Bric —he ran the place, so this was his thing, I guess—used to place his game player naked in the center of the lobby during private parties, blindfolded. Anyone at the party was allowed to touch her. Stimulate her,” Chella says with a knowing nod of her head. “So she had no idea whose touch it was. Was it male? Female? Never found out. Because Bric would take her upstairs and fuck her afterward. He was the only one allowed to fuck her, I guess.”

“Holy fuck.” That wasn’t what I was thinking, like at all. But it does sound kinda sexy if you’re in a safe place. And you trust the guy. But I don’t say that to Chella. Because what kind of empowered woman wants that, right? It would be the height of hypocrisy to tell my clients to be powerful and then in private willingly give up all power. To a man.

“Right?” Chella says. “Like, if I had known that was an option on the menu when I was playing the game, I might’ve requested it.”

I laugh. Loudly. Then look around to see if anyone heard me. “Wait, you’re saying that was a game? Like this really happened?”

Chella shrugs. “I’ve heard Smith and Bric talking. So yeah, I think that was real. But it wasn’t me.” She sighs. “Unfortunately.”

“So what I asked for was not so weird, right? Why was Jordan so freaked out about it?”

Chella takes a bite of her dessert and thinks about this for a few seconds. “I think Jordan misses the Club. And maybe what you’re asking requires him to put something Club-like back together. And maybe he’s worried if he does that, he’ll just say fuck it and reopen it under a new name.”

“Did someone buy the building next door?”

“Long time ago,” Chella says. “But they just started doing work in there a few weeks ago. I have no idea who owns it now. Or what they’re gonna turn it into. But I think Jordan regrets not buying the building. Regrets not keeping the Club open. And your request probably hit him close to home, ya know? So don’t take it personally. He just reacted like… well, a man. That’s all.”

“Yeah.” I sigh. “Makes sense. And I’m glad I stuck around and had dinner with you. Somehow you put everything into perspective. Have you ever thought about being a life coach?”

Chella almost spits out her tart. She covers her mouth with her napkin, swallows, then takes a deep breath and says, “Hell, no! Are you crazy? I’m a mess! I can’t be telling other people what to do.”

“You’re the most put-together mess I’ve ever met, Mrs. Baldwin. But OK. I get it. And I won’t bring it up again. But if you do ever want to get into the life-coach business, you call me first, understand?”

“Deal,” she says. “Should we call it a night? Or do you want to finish the wine?”

“Wine,” I say, laughing.

So I do. Chella sips her sparkling cider and we talk. And laugh. And it’s probably the best night out I’ve had in ages.

By the time the Tea Room is ready to close, it’s quiet and nearly empty. I put on my coat and make my way through to the front of the restaurant to pay.

Chella waves me off, saying I was her date tonight and dinner’s on her. And so I head to the front door, ready to go back to the office to get some work, in case I can’t sleep tonight, and then go home to my small, hundred-year-old house and just… decompress from all this introspective thinking.

But that’s when I see the flashing red and blue lights.

That’s when I notice the street has been shut down and there are dozens of cops and men in suits, and…