This is why I do what I do.

Mr. Craft guided me to the back of the club, where the manager was sitting with a few people from the club, along with a few reporters. In addition to the regulars from Deal Breaker and Page 6, there was also a reporter from the Times here to cover the event.

But when we were striding through the club, I got to talk to some of my listeners. And they’re the reason I do all of it. There was a young woman whose boyfriend was cheating on her, and she didn’t want to leave him because her parents wanted her to get married to someone from a good family. His family had money, and her parents knew that, with him, she would have security. She told me it was thanks to me that she found the courage to leave him, and even more, was able to explain everything to her parents and make them come around to see her point of view.

That’s why I do what I do.

You can take the money, the endorsements, you can take my face off the billboards. You can take the women and the fact that people recognize me. I’d do this shit for free, because what matters after you strip away all the extraneous bullshit is what I set out to do - give people just one outside observer’s advice when they’re looking for answers.

Sometimes it’s hard to take advice from the people we care about the most. Sometimes, it takes that person who’s outside your circle to take a look and give you a fresh perspective.

“We have a lot of exciting things coming up in the works,” I say to the reporter from the Times. “And it’s all thanks to a woman named Sara Montgomery. I had an idea that the show could become a little bit more instructive, a little bit more informative for a broader audience. You know, I have a lot of people who call in with really specific questions.”

I glance out window of the large office where we’re sitting. Cabs and bikes race by, turning the street into a blaze of color against the darkness of night. It’s exciting to be back in New York, the heart of the city beating alive and pumping blood into me.

“Sara started as an intern on my show, but she’s become more. She’s finishing up her last semester back in LA, and she’s brought a new perspective to the show. She’s given it a seriousness that I think it’s always lacked, but the show is still going to be as sexy and fun as it’s always been.”

“So it’s still dirty?” the reporter says, winking one of her long, dark lashes at me.

“Oh,” I say, putting my hands behind my head, “it’s absolutely still dirty. We’ll still have everything you’ve come to expect from Dirty After Dark. The best kind of vibrators to buy. The best kind of butt plugs you’re looking for, if I can get a little bit extra dirty.”

“I don’t know if the Times will print something about butt plugs, but I’ll try to get it past my editor,” she says smoothly.

“We’re going to have a physicist on in two weeks to talk about the correct tension and the types of hardware you need to use if you want to install a swing from the ceiling of your at-home sex dungeon. But Sara’s got some interesting things in the works, too. It’s all new. It’s fresh.”

My heart thumps inside my ribcage as my chest swells with pride.

“She’s going to have a mini-demo tonight. You’re going to get to meet her.” My eyes flash among the reporters, over to Mr. Craft and the club owner. “You’re going to fall in love with her as soon as you meet her. Just like I did. Come on, let’s go say hello.”

As we all get up and make our way toward the exit of the conference room, I pause for a moment to look out the window. The tops of trees sway just outside, the buildings across the street jut up into the sky, and everything is aglow. I spot a couple in a window across the street, dancing in their kitchen to music I can’t hear, making dinner. There’s two men next door to them cuddled up on a couch, and it looks like they’re watching TV with their old grey dog. Everything is close. Everything is in reach. I wonder if I’ve helped any of them with their problems. But I need to do more, and I know Sara is the only person who can get me there.

“Ryan?” Mr. Craft says from the door. “You coming?”

“Yeah,” I say. “I’ll be there in a second. You go on ahead without me.”

The door clicks closed and I cross my arms against my chest, and I realize I’ve missed home. I haven’t seen my parents since Christmas, and even though I make sure to call them once a week, I’d love to be able to see them more.

I do have the jet now, so I can pop over to the East Coast any time I want, but it might not be enough for me anymore.

I envision something new for the show. I envision something more for me.

I’ve been able to accomplish something I’ve always dreamed of. I’m in control of my career, I have a fabulous home and enough money to do pretty much whatever I want.

And now I have the girl I’ve been looking for, too.

I turn and walk through the large conference room, making my way back to the club, past two of Mr. Craft’s large bouncers. Searching the crowd, I find Sara sitting with Lexi in the VIP area. I shoulder my way through the crowd, shaking a few hands and posing for a few pictures along the way.

The DJ introduces me as I get to the stage, and a spotlight lands on me as I wave to the crowd, shielding my eyes from the bright lights.

“Hey!” I say up to Sara as I hoist myself up onto the stage and duck under the velvet rope. “It’s almost time for you. You just about ready?”

She brushes her hair away from her face and gives me a tight-lipped smile.

“Ready, boss,” she says coolly.

“Sweetheart.” I take a seat next to her a put my arm around her shoulder. “What’s the matter?” I see Lexi out of the corner of my eye, sitting with a few other women, and she gives me a small smile and a wave.

“Nothing,” Sara says dismissively. “I have a job to do.”

The lights on the dancefloor dim again and the stage lights up in blue and purple lights. Sara stands up as a production assistant with an earpiece hands her a mic. The colors of the lights dance on her face, and she looks like a natural up here with me, a bright and confident smile lighting up her eyes.

An assistant at the edge of the stage motions me toward him and hands me my own mic, instructing me to introduce us.

“Hello, New York!” I say, putting my arms out. “It’s good to be home. If you don’t know me, I’m Ryan Hart. But I have someone new to introduce, maybe someone you guys haven’t heard of yet. But you will. Joining me tonight is Sara Montgomery. She’s new to the show, and she has some fabulous info for you guys.”

“Thank you, sir,” she mewls, and a few whistles come from the crowd below us. I didn’t realize the sassy but nervous girl at the interview would blossom into the professional speaker on stage with me. If I’m not careful, she’ll start her own show and poach all my listeners. “So, I don’t want this to be a lecture. I’m not your mom. But I do want to make sure you guys all know to practice safer sex. Protect yourselves.” She reviews a few types of protection - it’s really just a refresher, but it’s the kind of thing that young people should be reminded of from time to time.

“I don’t want to take up too much more of your time,” she continues, flashing a look to me behind her shoulder. That glance is strange. There’s fire in her eyes, but it’s distant. It’s directed elsewhere. It’s turning in on itself. There’s something in her that I can’t read. “Remember to protect yourselves. Like I said before. Make sure you know what you’re getting into. This goes beyond just using condoms. Everyone here has heard of having a safe word, right? Sometimes we get wrapped up in a situation we don’t know how to deal with. Sometimes we don’t know how to say no. Sometimes we want things and don’t know how to ask for them, and sometimes we are given more than we can handle. So just take away this from me - have fun, and be safe. And that’s the most important thing you can do.”

I grin as my heart pounds in my chest. Sara hands her mic to one of the techs at the edge of the stage and comes over to stand next to me.

“That was fabulous,” I say to her as the crowd claps, grabbing her around the waist and drawing her in close. I give her a kiss on the cheek, but she doesn’t reciprocate any of my affection. She pulls away, turns cold, and gives me a small smile as she tosses back her drink.