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“Why? You got something going on?”
“Yeah, I gotta do some work.” It was only a partial lie. I was obsessed with my story and couldn’t think of anything else.
“All right. Well, that sucks. Call me tomorrow?” she asked.
“Of course. Talk to ya later.”
I swiped the phone closed. I had to stay focused. I’d created a big expectation with Ed, and coming up empty-handed would be worse than bad. Especially when he had his own healthy dose of curiosity about Club Silk. I needed to get the story done before he insisted on going there some night. With me.
On my bus ride home after work, the butterflies started. What the hell was I doing? Trying to make a name for myself with a story about a sex club would certainly put my name in the spotlight—but would it be the right kind of spotlight?
I couldn’t very well go in there with a notebook and tape recorder. That would not be undercover. And if I weren’t undercover, they would never let me in, and if I didn’t blend in and experience the club like a member, well then how the hell would I report on it?
Okay, a lot of reporting was done by observing. I didn’t have to play in the Little League to cover their season. I didn’t have to belong to the Garden Club or even have a garden to write about those old blue-haired ladies.
I suppose I could go to Club Silk and just sit in the corner and watch. Was that what I should be doing?
By the time I reached my stop at the end of the line, the lurching of the bus and my nerves left sweat pouring down my temples. I’d never been so happy to step into the blustery San Francisco fog. Time to get in the house and get ready for a night out.
“Hey there,” my dad hollered when I slammed the front door.
I poked my head into his study. He leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head.
“Hey, Dad.”
“How was work today?” he asked.
“Good. You know, just starting to work on my story about that…club.”
“Oh yeah. How’s that going?”
I hated lying to my dad. “Well, the story is different than what I initially shared with you. It’s…a bit more involved.”
“Oh? Tell me.”
I looked down at my fidgeting hands. “I can’t really share much. It’s kind of undercover.”
“Wow. Exciting. I can’t wait to read it.”
“Dad,” I asked, looking up at him, “do you miss Mom?”
He gave me a small smile and rocked his head back and forth. “Every day. Why do you ask? You okay?”
“Yeah. I’m fine. I just hope she’d be proud of me.”
“Are you kidding? I know she would. I think she’d be proud of both of us, and how we kept each other moving forward after she passed.”
The lump in my throat choked my words. “Thanks. I think so, too.”
“Hey, do you want to go out for a bite to eat? You hungry?”
I cleared my throat. “Oh, thank you. You know, I’m going out in a bit. Gonna…meet some friends.”
“Okay, then. I might get a burger.” He stood and grabbed his jacket. Walking around his massive desk, he gave me a kiss on the head. “If I don’t see you later tonight, I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Thanks, Dad. I love you.”
“Love you, too, Saffron.”
