pressing the digits, Archie stopped, his fingers hovering uncertainly over the phoneâs keypad.
A couple walked past the car, holding hands. She was already a little tipsy, and stumbled and then laughed.
It gave Archie an idea. He deleted the partial number heâd entered, and called a different telephone number instead.
Susan Ward picked up right away.
âHey,â she said. âYou never call me. Have you noticed that? I am always calling you. But you never call me. Is that weird?â
âIs Leo with you?â Archie asked.
âSeriously?â Susan said. âYouâre calling my phone and itâs not even to talk to me? Do you know how strange that is?â
âIs he with you?â Archie asked again. He glanced over at Henry, who was sitting in the passenger seat, watching him. It was chilly. The car was dark. The windows were fogging up.
âYeah,â Susan said. âWhy?â
Archie could hear her reporterâs instincts kicking in and knew he had to get off the phone before she got too interested. The last thing he wanted was Susan getting involved in this.
âI need you to tell him that I have to cancel lunch, okay?â Archie said. âTell him that exactly. Archie needs to cancel lunch.â
âHe has a phone,â Susan said. âCall him and tell him yourself.â
âSusan,â Archie said. âPlease.â
He needed Susan to do this for him, and he needed her not to ask questions.
Susan groaned. âFine,â she said.
âThank you,â Archie said, trying not to let her hear the relief in his voice. He ended the call and started the car.
Henry had found the piece of birthday cake on the dash and had unwrapped the tinfoil and was eating it with his fingers. âTell me thatâs code,â Henry said, his mouth full, âand that you really didnât just call to cancel lunch.â
Archie wiped some condensation off the windshield with his forearm. âWe need to go celebrate my birthday,â he said.
âYour birthday isnât until tomorrow,â Henry said.
âDo you have cash?â Archie asked, eyes on the rearview mirror as he put the car in reverse. âSmall bills?â
âFor what?â
Archie allowed himself a smile as he pulled away from the curb. âThe strippers,â he said.
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CHAPTER
3
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Why Leo suddenly wanted to go to the Dancinâ Bare, Susan didnât know, but she wasnât happy about it.
She was dressed for the opera.
They werenât going to the opera. They were supposed to be going to a musical stage adaptation of the Patrick Swayze eighties movie Road House, but she had just bought an embroidered silk cape at a thrift store and she was determined to wear it. It was silver, with a red lining and a rhinestone clip at the neck, and it grazed the back of her knees when she walked. She had paired it with a black sleeveless shift, hot pink tights, and her silver twenty-eight-eye Doc Martens. She had recently dyed her hair black with a white skunk stripe down the middle, and the whole look was very Cruella De Vil meets Daphne Guinness. It was perfect for a fringe theater performance. It was not ideal for a strip club.
Leo breezed past the doorman, while Susan stalked sullenly behind him, through the wood-paneled entryway into the dark bar. Posters on the way in advertised the chance to meet girls âup close.â
She did not like to go to strip clubs with Leo. It wasnât that she had anything against strip clubs per se. She just didnât like the way that everyone at the strip clubs seemed to know her boyfriend. Leoâs father owned some of those clubs. Leo did business at some of them. But there was more to it than that. Leo liked these clubs. He liked them in a way that Susan knew she could never fully understand.
It certainly had nothing to do with the decor.
You couldnât smoke in bars in Portland anymore, but the club