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“Yes. Yes, this is she.” Remain calm, remain cool.
“We received a message from you.”
That was it? Okay. I could play that game.
“Is this my return call from the Club Silk?” I asked, with equal authority.
“Yes, Susan.”
“Super. I’d like to come check it out.”
“How did you hear about us, Susan?”
Shoulda known they’d ask that.
“A friend. A friend told me I might like it.”
“Who, may I ask?” The caller was polite and yet forceful. Good approach.
“I’m afraid I can’t share their name.” I pictured the tattered piece of paper blowing up to the bus stop.
“Very well. Are you free tomorrow night?”
Are you kidding?
“Why yes. I am.” Shit. What would I wear?
“Do you have a pen?”
I looked around the bathroom. Of course I didn’t have a pen. Who had a pen in the bathroom?
“No. Why?”
“You need to know how to get here.”
Right. Duh.
“Can you text me the address?”
There was silence on the line. Then a sigh. “Yes. I’ll text you the information.”
What a gal.
“Thank you.”
“What time will we see you?”
“Around nine p.m. okay?”
“Yes, see you then,” said the clipped voice.
“By the way, when I get there, who do I ask for—”
Click.
Okay, then. The woman was not going to win any awards for customer service.
I settled back into
