Page 64 of My Beautiful Sin

“No. I’ve got some interesting leads, but I’m not ready to fill you in yet. I’ll write up some notes soon and shoot them to you.” That’s been our process since I was interning for him while in grad school, and with this article especially, I think it will help to have someone without my emotional attachment reviewing the facts as I learn them.

“So what’s up?”

“I may have a follow-up on the Myers article.” I explain about the email, then add, “I’m not interested in fucking up my computer. Will The Spall pay for a cheap computer so I can follow this link?”

I’m thinking I can forward the email to a newly created Gmail account so that it’s not tied to any of my other email addresses. Then I’ll open the forwarded email on the cheap computer. That way, anything that might be spyware gets nothing except the information on an essentially empty computer.

“Can you manage with a three-hundred dollar budget?”

“I bet I can find something.”

“Then you got it. Fingers crossed it’s something interesting and not someone trying to hack your bank accounts.”

“No kidding.”

“Also, Corbin was going to call you today. Apparently he’s got questions about the New York Transit Authority article. Mind if I put him on now?”

I hesitate, because in my book it’s never fine to talk to Corbin Dailey. But I can hardly tell Roger that. “Fine.”

Roger chuckles. “Don’t sound so enthusiastic.”

I roll my eyes. Of course, Roger already knows how I feel about Corbin.

I’m on hold for less than a minute, and then I hear Corbin’s voice. “I hear you’re writing a profile on your uncle. You should be writing yourself into an article about Saint. I covered the son-of-a-bitch once when he was giving a speech in New York right after he founded the DSF.”

“I remember.”

“Yeah, well, rumors are the guy fucks around. Never figured you to be that type.”

“Corbin, honey, you don’t know anything about what type I am. Other than the fact that I’m not a woman who goes for a guy like you, of course.”

I hear the front door open then shut, and Brandy comes in grinning, then frowns as she mouths, Who is that?

I mouth back that it’s Corbin, and then ask him to repeat the questions he had about my notes on the transit authority article, since I’d totally tuned him out.

Once I’m finished with the joy of talking with him, I hang up and hurry to Brandy for a hug. “All right,” I say. “Spill. Now.”

“Nothing happened. We just wanted to give you guys space.”

“Nothing?”

“Nope,” she says. “He even slept on the couch.”

I tilt my head from side to side. “And was that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“Probably good,” she says with a mischievous little grin. “The truth is, that we were both on the couch before he sent me to bed.”

“Oh?” My voice rises with interest. “And was this a fully clothed couch experience?”

Her cheeks turn crimson. “Not fully.”

“Brandy Bradshaw! Look at you. Tell me everything.”

“I might have misplaced my shirt,” she admits.

“And that was okay? You weren’t feeling uncomfortable or—”

“Ellie, it was awesome.” She squeezes my hand, then whispers, “I’m the one who pulled my top off. We didn’t do anything—and honestly, he’s the one who put on the brakes.”