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“But it’s ten at night!” I yell.
“Yes, on a Saturday. If there’s any time for a sex shop to stay open late, it’s tonight,” Priya points out.
I glance over at Lyndsey, who shrugs and grabs her phone. “It’s worth a shot. Priya, give me a list, and I’ll start making calls. We can divide and conquer.”
Together, Priya and Lyndsey form a sort of citizen-detective task force, jotting phone numbers down on hotel stationery. The first call is a bust. But when Lyndsey calls the third place, a smile blooms across her lips.
“Yeah, so they’re like black metal. The serial number? Let me see.”
She walks over to me and presses her phone against her chest, “Lift your wrist as best you can. I need to try and see the serial number so they can find out the make and model.” Lyndsey says. I do as I’m told, and she peers at the dark metal, barely making out a series of six numbers.
“I think I’ve got it. Yeah, so it’s 851233,” Lyndsey says. She repeats the number, slower this time, then nods into the phone.
“You do? And it comes with the key? No, no, stupid question, I know. It’s been a stressful forty-five minutes. My uh boyfriend, yeah, he’s… he is chained to the bed,” Lyndsey squeaks out.
“You can hold a pair for me? When do you close? Yeah, I can get there within a half hour. My name is Lyndsey, with a Y. Perfect. Thank you so much.” Lyndsey hangs up the phone and fist pumps. She turns to me. “Hang tight,” she says.
“That’s all I can do!” I snap.
She walks over to me and kisses my forehead. “I’m getting you out of there. Priya, what do you say we go on a little field trip?” she asks.
“I’ll call us a Lyft. At this point, I’m invested,” Priya says. Lyndsey gives her the address, and Priya types it into her phone.
“I’ll be back soon,” Lyndsey promises. She hands me my phone. Thank God Face ID is something I can do one-handed.
“Do you want me to turn on the TV?” she asks.
I laugh. “Nah, I’ll be okay. I wrap my free hand around the back of her neck and kiss her. She smiles into the kiss.
Priya coughs. “Uh, the Lyft is here,” she mumbles. Lyndsey blushes and pulls away.
Chapter 11
Lyndsey
Detroit, MI
On the way to the Pleasure Emporium in a Chevy Impala
Priya and I slide into the back seat of the Lyft. When the driver asks us where we’re heading, I blush.
“We’re in a bit of a pickle,” Priya says without elaborating.
The driver notes the name of the destination and falls silent. A generic Christian rock song plays on the radio. The PleasureEmporium is fifteen minutes away from our hotel, and I have a feeling this is about to be the longest fifteen minutes of my life.
This is exactly why I keep my personal and my romantic life separate when I’m on tour. One minute, everything’s fine, and the next, I’m stuck on a wild goose chase to free my boyfriend from mystery sex handcuffs.
“So, you and Vince, it’s going well then?” Priya asks.
“Yeah, great, actually,” I admit.
“I’m glad to hear it. You look amazing, by the way. The glow of young love and all that,” Priya says.
I try to say something eloquent and end up choking on my spit. I hack into my elbow, and Priya thumps my back.
“I’m happy to see Vince happy,” she adds.
“Me too. I don’t know Vince as well as you do, but still.”
