CHAPTER NINE
Filming with Viv and Jonah wrapped up early at three. Combined with the B-roll they’d shot over the course of the last week, they were off to a solid start. Their first sit-down with Viv and Jonah had just enough edge to give the production team some juicy sound bites for promotion.
Sam and Elena—the couple they’d chosen for the pilot episode—came off as sincere, sweet, troubled, and just a little bit weird, which was the perfect combination for television. Sam had complained about Elena spending thousands on shoes, and Elena had countered with a jab about Sam’s taste for expensive cigars, but they’d held hands without prompting for most of the conversation. It was going well, all things considered.
Mostly.
She watched as Jonah hustled out the door, giving courtesy farewells to the crew while looking a bit like a man fleeing a house fire. Kate watched his car pull out of the driveway as she stood at the window coiling a cord for the cameraman.
“Don’t you think so, Kate?”
She turned to see Viv in the doorway looking thoughtful and serene. “What’s that?”
Viv’s gaze flicked to the window where Jonah’s taillights were just fading around the corner. She watched them for a moment before directing her attention back to Kate. “I was just saying I think the patients are going to do really well with a little Imago Therapy and maybe some work on Compassionate Communication techniques.”
“I agree,” she said. “I’m eager to see if they take the advice you gave them.”
“Yes. Well, some people have a hard time taking criticism.”
Viv turned and began rearranging a cluster of lilies in a red vase on the side table next to the door. Kate watched, wondering if Viv had something on her mind. Was she here seeking praise on her performance, or something else?
It’s her house, for crying out loud. You’re looking for issues where there aren’t any.
Kate cleared her throat. “I think you and Jonah did well,” she said. “We got some great footage of that fast-paced banter you had about whether Sam and Elena should try sleeping in separate bedrooms.”
“Yes, that was a healthy little bit of conflict, wasn’t it?”
Kate nodded, not sure if they were talking about Sam and Elena or Viv and Jonah. Something about Viv’s posture told her it was the latter. “You play off each other nicely.”
“We do, don’t we?” Viv’s looked up from the lilies and glanced out the window again, to the edge of the shrubs where Jonah’s car had disappeared moments before. “We always did work well together.”
Kate swallowed hard and set the cable down on top of a chest filled with audio equipment. She grabbed another cord and began wrapping it around her arm, elbow to thumb, elbow to thumb, keeping her mind distracted. It was easier than fixating on the tight knot that had lodged in the center of her chest in the middle of filming when she’d watched Viv reach over and touch Jonah’s arm, lingering there with a tender familiarity. Or the moment near the end of the day when Jonah had caught Viv in his arms and held her there, smiling up at him, as they demonstrated the proper way to do trust falls.
Kate set the coiled cord aside and took a few calming breaths. She used the method Viv had suggested in But Not Broken, in the dog-eared chapter on self-care. In for four seconds, hold for seven, out for eight.
“There you are.”
She looked up at the sound of Amy’s voice to see her assistant producer in the doorway. Amy glanced at Viv, then stepped past her to continue into the parlor. She wasn’t smiling, and she clutched her iPhone like the handle of a hatchet. Her eyes met Kate’s, and she gave a familiar eyebrow lift that signaled the start of every conversation that began with the unspoken words, You’re not going to like this.
“I just got off a conference call with the guys from the network.” Amy stopped behind the black leather loveseat and rested her hands on the back of it like she was standing at a lectern. “They’re really enthusiastic about some of the early footage we’ve shared. I sent them the clip from today with the scene in the kitchen, and they were super pumped.”
“But?” Kate prompted. She knew there was a but. She could tell from the twin lines between Amy’s brows and the way she kept glancing at Viv, like she wasn’t sure whether to have this conversation here or in private.
Viv drifted into the center of the room, her flawless forehead creased with concern. “Is everything all right?”
“Everything’s fine. Just a little unexpected twist.” Amy gave Viv a placating smile before returning her gaze to Kate. “You know how we’re set up to do this as a self-contained show?”
“What’s a self-contained show?” Viv asked. She glanced from Amy to Kate. Seeming to sense this conversation could take a while, she folded herself into the same orange leather chair Jonah had picked the first time they’d all assembled here.
Kate rested her hand on the pile of coiled cables and stayed standing. “Every episode stands on its own,” she explained. “They can be played in any order, and it’s easy for viewers to jump in at any time.”
“Shows like Intervention and Deadliest Catch and Undercover Boss and House Hunters are good examples,” Amy added. “Those are all self-contained programs.”
“Also referred to as closed-ended shows,” Kate added. “Networks love them because they can get a lot of mileage out of reruns no matter what order they show the episodes.”
“Right, right—of course.” Viv tucked her legs beneath her, looking elegant and serene like an origami swan. “I’m familiar with the concept. I just wasn’t familiar with the term.”
Kate glanced at Amy, trying to get a read on her. She could guess where this conversation was headed, but part of her hoped she was wrong. “The opposite of a closed-ended show in unscripted television is an arced show,” Kate continued for Viv’s benefit. “That’s where there’s a story arc that continues through the whole season. You can’t watch them out of order, or they won’t make sense.”
“Right.” Amy met Kate’s eyes and nodded once, almost imperceptibly. “Shows like The Bachelor or Survivor are examples of arced programming,” she continued. “Viewers need to start at the beginning to really feel invested in the story.”
“Okay.” Vivienne glanced warily between them. “And we all agreed that our show would do best as a self-contained program.” She looked at Amy again. “Right?”
“We did.” Amy took a deep breath. “But Empire TV’s executive director is asking for a small tweak.”
“Chase Whitfield.” Kate uttered the name like a curse, then glanced at Viv. “He’s a brilliant director, but he can be—challenging, sometimes.”
Viv gave a small smile. “I suppose that’s true for most of us.”
Kate looked back at Amy, wondering if Chase got a sadistic pleasure out of making them jump through hoops. Plenty of directors worked like that, not happy unless they made sweeping changes to someone else’s concept.
“A small tweak,” Kate repeated. “How small are we talking?”
Amy tucked a wayward curl behind one ear. “They still want each episode to be self-contained as far as the couples go. That’s not changing. Each couple will still have their story conclude—for better or worse—at the end of each episode.”
“Thank goodness,” Viv said.
“But they want to see some sort of arc laced into the bigger picture,” Amy continued.
“But how?” Viv ran her palms down the arms of the chair like she was soothing a cat. “Are we inviting couples back for continued counseling?”
“No,” Amy said. “They’d like the series arc connected to the show’s stars.”
Kate watched Viv straighten a little at the word stars. It was a subtle shift, but Kate noticed and mentally applauded Amy’s word choice.
“So they want an arc with Viv and Jonah,” Kate said slowly. “Did they have something in mind?”
Amy held up her hands. “I know, I know. Don’t worry. The first thing I told them is what Jonah said about not pretending they’re still married. I made it clear that’s non-negotiable, and they seemed fine with that.”
Kate nodded once and curled her fingers into her palms, letting her nails bite into the soft flesh. “So what then?”
“They threw out a few ideas, but wanted us to brainstorm,” Amy said. “They’re thinking of something along the lines of Vivienne dealing with a crisis related to her new book and Jonah weighing whether to step in and help. Or exploring the mixed emotions between Viv and Jonah as one of them starts dating again. Those are just examples, though. They want us to come back to them with more ideas.”
Viv went very still. Her hands stopped moving on the arms of the chair, and she looked from Kate to Amy and back again. “They didn’t specify what the arc needs to be?”
“They left that up to us,” Amy said. “They want it to be organic to the show and to the characters.”
“Personal stories sell well,” Kate said. “Since you and Jonah anchor the show, it makes sense to have this stem from what’s happening in real life for one or both of you.”
Kate focused on breathing, on trying not to react to the notion of tying the show more closely to the relationship between Viv and Jonah. This was just business. Just a matter of giving the network what they wanted.
“Real-life stories are best,” Amy agreed. “And it will help if it’s a little juicy. Something that will really draw viewers in.”
Viv looked thoughtful, but not upset like Kate expected. That seemed . . . odd. Then again, Viv wasn’t the one who’d be most annoyed by another form of personal intrusion. It was Jonah they needed to worry about.
“Did they say why they’re asking for this?” Viv asked. “It seems a little strange to throw this in after we’ve already started filming.”
“They think it’ll give viewers a more intimate connection to the show,” Amy said. “You know, provide a sort of voyeuristic thrill about peering into your lives.”
Kate’s stomach churned, and she hated where this was going. Not as much as Jonah was going to hate it, though. She glanced at Viv, who looked serene as always. “Viv? Do you have any ideas?”
Vivienne tilted her head to the side and gave a slow nod. “Perhaps. Let me give it some thought. How soon do they need to know?”
“Within a day or two,” Amy said. “I told them we’d put our heads together and get back to them.”
Kate picked up the coiled cables and moved across the room. Depositing them in a crate next to the door, she straightened and looked at Viv.
“Should we call Jonah in for a meeting?” Her voice sounded casual enough, but eagerness fluttered right under her breastbone. “We could get him on a conference call if we don’t want to drag him back here.”
Viv looked at her, seeming to consider it. “No. Let me do it in person. One on one.”
Kate nodded in agreement. “Of course.” That was best, obviously. The less time Kate spent with Jonah, the better. Let Viv handle this. “That sounds perfect. Maybe the two of you can go have coffee or something and hammer out your thoughts.”
“That’s a wonderful idea.” Viv smiled and stood up. Her silk slacks were remarkably unwrinkled, and Kate wondered how she managed that. “If you two don’t mind, I’m going to head into my study and do a little brainstorming for this. Will you excuse me?”
Kate nodded. “Absolutely.”
Viv smiled, moving toward the doorway. As she approached, Kate stepped aside to let her pass. A tickle of Viv’s perfume hovered in the air, something spicy and earthy and mysterious.
“Thanks for all your hard work today, Vivienne,” Kate said. “You did a fantastic job.”
“You, too, ladies.” Vivienne looked back at Amy, then returned her gaze to Kate. She held it for a long time, and Kate ordered herself not to break eye contact. Not to flinch at all. Viv smiled. “I hope you know how much Jonah and I appreciate what you’re doing.”
Kate swallowed and nodded. “Thank you.”
“Tell Jonah hello for us,” Amy called. “Make sure you let him know we think he did great, too.”
Vivienne smiled again, her eyes still locked with Kate’s. “I certainly will.”
Jonah walked through the door of the animal shelter with a skinny Labrador on a leash, more eager than he’d been in weeks to put his damn shirt back on.
“Getting chilly out there?” Jossy asked as she grabbed the lab’s leash and handed Jonah a wad of clothing he recognized as his own.
“Actually, it’s a lot warmer than it looks.” He fumbled with his sweatshirt, trying to untangle it from the T-shirt he’d left twisted inside. “And Bruno here does great on a leash.”
“Good boy!” Jossy bent to scratch the dog’s ears as Jonah dropped the sweatshirt on the counter and began wrangling his T-shirt right-side out.
“I could have done without the woman who stood there for a full minute watching Bruno lick his dick before turning to me and asking if that gave me any ideas.”
“Eew!” Jossy pretended to gag. “Jesus. What the hell is wrong with people?”
Jonah yanked the hem of his T-shirt out of the armpit, cheered by his sister’s indignation. “I told her Bruno seemed to be doing a fine job cleaning it himself, but that he’d let her know if he needed a hand.”
“I feel like I need a shower.”
“You and me both.” Jonah located the neck hole of his shirt and had just started to yank it on when the door chimed. He looked up to see Vivienne standing in the doorway.
She’d changed into a flowy black top and soft-looking lavender leggings that reminded him of a pair she’d owned when they were married. Back then, she used to wear them around the house on nights they’d cook dinner together. He’d graze her ass with his palm, brushing past her en route from the granite island to the stove, and Viv would gasp and pretend to be shocked.
Jonah always knew better. She’d liked his occasional flares of caveman behavior. At least she had when it served her purposes.
“Jonah.” Viv’s gaze drifted over his chest and lingered for a good three seconds before she lifted her eyes to his.
He hurried to pull the shirt over his head, struggling to stuff his hands through the arm holes. As he yanked down on the hem, he felt better about not being so exposed.
“You just put your shirt on backward,” Viv pointed out.
“I like it that way.” He yanked the hem down again as Viv continued to study him. “What brings you here? Christ, I’ve seen you more lately than I did when we were married.”
The thought didn’t cheer Jonah all that much, but Viv just smiled. He waited for her to answer, but her gaze swung to Jonah’s left instead.
“Josslyn,” she said. “It’s so good to see you. Would you mind if I stole your brother for just a minute?”
“That’s kinda up to my brother.” Jossy looked at Jonah, her expression flat. “His shift as my shirtless dog walker is over, so his schedule is up to him.”
Jonah heard the prickliness in his sister’s voice and wondered if he should do something to soothe it. He also wished they had some sort of secret sibling signal to cue an impromptu game of make-believe. An ear tug to indicate Jossy should fake a fainting spell, or maybe a chin scratch to suggest she play along if he announced a need to reroof the building today.
The memory of his game of make-believe with Kate gave Jonah a sharp pang of longing. Hardly convenient with his ex-wife standing here, appearing unlikely to leave until he agreed to chat with her.
“Yeah, fine,” Jonah said at last. “I’m free for a few minutes, I guess. I do have somewhere to be in an hour, though.”
“A date?”
Jonah stared at her. Since when was Viv interested in his personal life? “Not a date,” he said. “Something at the bookstore. Come on. You want to hit that coffee shop around the corner?”
“They have tea?”
“I’m sure they have tea,” he said.
He marched toward the door and pulled it open, then turned back to see Jossy pantomiming a gag. He started to give her a dirty look, but caught Viv smiling up at him and decided to ignore his sister.
“Thank you,” Viv said as he held the door open. “You know, we didn’t get to finish our exercise before filming began. This is another thing I always appreciated about you—the way you hold the door open for others.”
“Yeah, I’m a real fucking gentleman.” He sounded like an asshole, and he tried to figure out why he was acting that way. Something about Viv being here in his space. Well, Jossy’s space.
Stop being a dick, he ordered himself.
Shoving his hands in his pockets, he started toward the coffee shop. He glanced over to see her shiver a little in the autumn breeze, and he instantly felt sorry for her.
“I appreciated a lot of things about you, too, Viv,” he offered.
“Like what?” She looked up expectantly as she fell into step beside him, and Jonah scrambled to come up with something meaningful.
“Your feet,” he said. “You have nice feet.”
Viv burst out laughing, then stopped walking and lifted one sandal-clad foot. “You’re a real romantic, Jonah.”
Funny, the way she said it with fondness now instead of shouting it at him the way she had a year before the divorce. Jonah walked faster, trying to escape the memory of those words.
“I’m just asking you to meet me where I am,” she’d said in that way Viv had of yelling without raising her voice at all. “To offer some romantic gesture to show you even see me anymore—”
“Here we are!” Jonah announced unnecessarily as he jerked open the door of the little coffee shop. A bell tinkled, and he gestured for Viv to walk through first. She smiled and floated across the threshold in that stately way she always had of moving through the world.
He let her order first, then asked for a plain black coffee and a blueberry muffin. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten anything. The day’s filming had left his stomach too knotted up to do much more than pick at the elaborate spread the TV people had laid out in Viv’s kitchen.
Since Viv didn’t whip out her wallet, Jonah paid. That earned him a show of gratitude that seemed much more effusive than a ten-dollar tab warranted.
“Really, Jonah,” Viv gushed. “That’s so thoughtful.”
She clutched her mug of chamomile tea and drifted to a quiet table in the corner. Jonah followed, wondering what the hell she was up to. He’d find out soon enough.
“So,” Viv said when they were finally seated. She wrapped her fingers around the mug of steaming tea, but didn’t take a sip. “How did you think today went?”
“Fine. It went fine.” He wanted to leave it at that, but her expectant look told him he was supposed to say more. That he needed to “unpack it,” as she used to say.
Jonah sighed and stirred some sugar into his coffee. “Having cameras in my face like that was a little intense,” he said. “But Sam and Elena seemed nice. Well, once they stopped hamming it up for dramatic effect.”
“Do you think the marriage can be saved?”
He looked at her a moment, trying to read her expression. How often in their marriage had she ever asked his opinion? Ever really sounded like she wanted it?
“Yeah,” he said slowly. “I think they can save it. If they’re willing to do the work.”
Viv’s face broke into a grin. “I’m so glad to hear you say that.”
Jonah grunted and picked up his coffee. He took a big gulp before remembering it was really fucking hot and also that he didn’t even want coffee. It was just something to order, something to hold in his hands as a prop so he could look like a motherfucking adult having a motherfucking grown-up conversation.
What was it about being around Viv that made his subconscious swear so much?
He took another sip of coffee, waiting for her to say something. It was another elicitation technique, one of his favorites he’d honed on his last tour in Kabul. Just waiting for the other person to get uncomfortable and rush to fill the silence. They always did.
Especially Viv, who never could stand it when people weren’t making a constant effort to communicate.
“So, Jonah,” she said. “The network folks made another request today.”
“They want me to do the show shirtless?” He grunted again and blew on the coffee. “Yeah, they already called and asked.”
“What?” Viv blinked, then laughed. “Oh, you’re kidding? Right, of course.”
Actually, he wasn’t kidding, but there was no point detailing his phone conversation with Chase Whitfield. Man, that guy was a piece of work.
But that didn’t seem to be why Viv had tracked him down. He didn’t really give a shit about shooting some B-roll of him working out in the little gym he’d built at the bookstore. Free publicity for Cornucopia Books was never a bad thing, plus the network had agreed to pay Beth to run the shop on days Jonah was filming. He felt like he owed them.
“Anyway,” Viv said. “The network wants to do an arced story line.”
“A what?”
“An arced story line,” she repeated. “It’s where there’s a story that carries through the whole season of episodes. Some little thread that ties everything together.”
“You mean besides the fact that both of us are in every episode?”
“That’s the starting point, of course,” she said. “But it would be something more than that. Something more—personal.”
“More personal than having cameras stuck in our faces for ten hours a day?”
Viv took a sip of her tea and gave Jonah a look of practiced patience. “They want to focus on some element of our story,” she said. “You and me.”
“You and me.” The words came out flat, and Jonah wasn’t sure why he needed to repeat them. To hear them land in the middle of the table with a dull thud.
Viv pretended not to notice. “Exactly. For instance, say one of us were involved in a new romance. The producers might chronicle how that unfolded, maybe explore each spouse’s emotional reactions to the new development.”
Jonah felt a pang of alarm, but willed himself not to react. Had Viv picked up on something between him and Kate? Maybe caught a lingering glance between them, or noticed the way Kate smiled and rolled her eyes when the makeup girl swooped in for the third time to powder his face and rest one of her silicone-enhanced breasts on his shoulder.
Jonah gripped his mug a little tighter and tried not to picture Kate’s face. Or her bare leg, disappearing into a delicious froth of bathtub suds. Or the kiss in Ashland, or the one at the bookstore, or the kiss at his place—
Christ. How many times had they kissed?
Too many for two people who’d pledged not to do it at all.
Not enough, considering how much he wanted to do it again.
Jonah looked at his ex-wife and focused very, very hard on not blinking.
“I’m not seeing anyone,” he said slowly. “Are you?”
“No!” She brought her hand down on the table a little too quickly, sending a teaspoon clattering against her saucer. “I’m not. I’m not dating anyone at all.”
“Okay, then,” he said slowly. “You think one of us should start Internet dating or something?”
“There’s an interesting idea.” She picked up her tea and blew on it, then took a cautious sip. “I suppose I could float that out there with the producers. One of us joining a professional online dating network or something.”
“How about if we make it you?” Jonah said, already regretting having broached the subject. “I don’t think I’m really cut out for Internet dating. It all seems like too much exhibitionist bullshit for my taste.”
Viv cocked her head to the side and studied him. “Says the man who walks dogs with his shirt off?”
“Not the same thing,” Jonah said. “That’s for a good cause. Gets people through the door and looking at adoptable pets.”
“Of course, I understand.” She looked at him over the rim of her mug. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea. Maybe there could be some story line about your shirtless dog-walking duties and all the women you attract.”
“Thanks, but no thanks.”
“Really? I thought you’d want to bring the attention to the shelter. Maybe generate donations for Jossy’s cause or more interest in adoptable animals.”
Hell. He hadn’t thought of it like that. “I guess. Maybe.” He made a mental note to talk to Kate about it. Maybe that could be a way to help Jossy and the shelter without having to fight her to take money from him directly.
“This is wonderful!” Viv smiled. “Let’s keep brainstorming. I like the way this is going.”
Jonah didn’t particularly, but he refrained from saying so. “You mentioned something about remodeling your upstairs bathroom. Maybe they could focus on that.”
“Hmm. Yes. I think they’re looking for something a little more personal.”
Of course they were. Jonah knew it already, but he’d hoped Viv might take the bait. Might be happy with the prospect of something that put more focus on her. It was her damn show, after all.
“What if we spent some time analyzing what went wrong in our own marriage?” Viv said. “Maybe some clips where we each reflect on the role we played in the breakdown of our relationship. I know I have plenty of regrets. Plenty of mistakes I could own.”
Jonah looked at her, wondering if he was supposed to say the same thing. It was true, but was there any benefit to rehashing that now? “Sure,” he said. “I know I fucked up plenty.”
“So maybe that’s a way we could lend some personal insights to the couples we’re helping,” she said. “A way of sharing from our own experiences.”
Jonah frowned, but didn’t reply right away. He didn’t like the idea of tossing out all his dirty laundry for the camera. That’s not what he signed on for, dammit.
Then again, she had a point. He’d learned a few things through the unraveling of his marriage and the whole messy process of divorce. If that could be useful to someone else, maybe he owed it to the world to keep some other poor schmuck from tanking his relationship.
“Maybe,” he said slowly. “I guess I’d be willing to consider it.”
“Wonderful!” Viv beamed at him, and Jonah felt like a student who’d just answered an algebra question correctly. “I’ll add that to the list they’re sending the network director.”
“Sure,” he muttered, ready for this conversation to be over. “Whatever you want.”
Her brows lifted a fraction of an inch, and she tilted her head to the side. “So overall, you’d say you’re fairly open?”
“I don’t know.” He looked at her, not sure why he felt leery all of a sudden. “I guess I’d want to know about it beforehand, whatever they decide.”
“Of course.”
“And if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather the story be more focused on you than me.”
Viv laced her fingers together on the table and nodded. “That’s good feedback.” She stared at him a moment longer, then unlaced her fingers to reach for her tea again.
Jonah glanced down at his own mug, surprised to see he’d already drained it. He hadn’t touched the muffin, but his stomach wasn’t feeling up to it anymore. Would there someday be a point where being around Viv wouldn’t make him feel this way? Like someone grabbed hold of one of his testicles between a cold thumb and forefinger, not pinching, but not letting go either. Like he was waiting for the ache that may or may not happen.
He stood up too quickly, banging his knee on the table. “If we’re just about done here, I should probably run,” he said. “I’ve got some stuff to do at the store.”
“I understand.” Viv smiled, but didn’t stand. Just sat there, looking up at him with fond familiarity, like she knew exactly what he was thinking. He used to love that look. Loved the idea of someone peering into his brain and liking what she saw.
Now it just unnerved him.
“Thanks for brainstorming things with me,” Viv said. “I’m glad we’re able to work together again like this.”
“Yeah.” Jonah cleared his throat. “Me, too. Good seeing you, Viv.”
He turned away, not sure whose lies were the boldest. Hers or his. She had to hate this as much as he did, right?
He felt Viv watching as he carried his mug to the bus tub and set it inside. Pushing the door open, he refused to turn back and make eye contact. They’d said their goodbyes. There was no point dragging it out.
Jonah walked fast with the muffin in one hand, desperate to put some distance between himself and his ex-wife. It was already growing dark, but he didn’t head back to the shelter. Not yet, anyway. He needed some fresh air and a chance to get a little space from the conversation.
He slowed down, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Viv hadn’t followed. There was no sign of her, so Jonah pulled his phone out of his pocket. A twinge of guilt pinched his chest as he scrolled down to find the number for Kate. But there was no reason to feel guilty, dammit. He had plenty of professional reasons to call the producer of the show he worked on, didn’t he?
Even so, Jonah found himself crossing to the other side of the street, turning a corner to take him the opposite direction of the animal shelter. He hit the button for Kate’s number, annoyed at himself for the way his pulse kicked up.
“Hello?”
Her voice sent a rush of adrenaline through him, but he ignored it and put on his best professional-guy voice. “Hey, Kate. It’s Jonah. I was hoping to talk to you about this whole arced story line thing.”
“Oh. Right. Yes, of course.”
She sounded distracted. Muffled. And was that trance music pounding in the background?
Jonah took a bite of his muffin and chewed, trying to make out the din of conversation in the background on Kate’s end. “Did I catch you at a bad time? It sounds like you’re in a bar or something.”
“Uh, I am,” she said. “I think. I guess it’s sort of like a bar.”
Her voice definitely sounded odd. And what the hell was “sort of like a bar,” anyway? It was probably none of his business.
“Should I try you back another time?”
“No! I, uh—I want to talk to you.”
A peal of laughter sounded in the background, then something that sounded like a muffled moan.
“Are you okay, Kate?” he asked. “You sound a little weird.”
“Maybe. I’m, uh—at a swingers club.”
Jonah inhaled a muffin crumb. He stopped walking and coughed, trying to get his breath back.
“A swingers club?” he wheezed.
“It’s where couples go when they want to swap partners for sexual—”
“I know what a swingers club is,” he said. “I’m just wondering why you’re in one.”
“Location scouting,” she said. “For the couple we’re considering for episode eight. They’ve been talking about trying an open marriage, so Amy and I wanted to check this place out.”
“You’re there with Amy?”
“I was.” The music kicked up a notch louder, and Jonah heard somebody cheering. “Amy got an emergency call and had to leave, so I’m here—”
“Wait, you’re alone? In a swingers club?”
“Yes. Yeah. Um, yes.”
Jonah wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. “Do you want company?”
“Oh dear God, yes.”
The eagerness in her voice sent a thrill through him. He took a deep breath, pretty sure what he was about to say was not his smartest course of action.
“I’ll be right there.”