Page 127 of Ten Day Affair
“I’ll give you something. But I want something in return.”
She laughs lightly. “That’s not how this usually works.”
“Then let’s make it work differently.”
“What are you offering?”
“Perspective. Context. A version of the story that will give the real story. With on-the-record quotes from me.”
“So damage control.”
“Call it what you want. But if you’re going to drag people through the mud, you should at least know who they are first.”
She pauses. “Go on.”
“Not yet. I’ll meet you. In person.”
“You do love your face-to-face meetings, don’t you?”
TWENTY-NINE
Sam
The microwave beeps, and I stare at the reheated coffee. Steam rises from the mug, curling in the morning light that filters through my tiny kitchen window.
"We've scanned the thousands of comments on the article. I've got a team dedicated to this. Your name isn't anywhere. You're still safe."
Arden's voice fills the silence through my phone speaker. She sounds like she's been talking for hours, which, knowing her, she probably has. She was born for this shit. I, on the other hand, was not.
"What's the latest?" I pull the mug closer, wrapping my fingers around the ceramic warmth.
"No follow-up article yet, but the rumor mill is churning. The comments are from the typical online provocateurs trying to stir up drama. So far, you're still a mystery woman. Stay boring, Sammy. Boring is good."
I huff a laugh, but it snags somewhere behind my ribs. It’s not funny. Not really. Mystery woman. Like I'm some character in a tabloid headline I never asked to be part of.
"How boring are we talking? Because boring doesn't describe surgical residency at Grady."
"Grady's lucky to have you. Let that be as exciting as your life is right now, let me focus on how to make sure that's where it ends."
The conviction in her voice makes me want to believe it, but the words bounce off me like rain on glass. I rub the space between my eyebrows where a headache's been living for three days.
"I'm still bracing for impact. I know the other shoe will drop."
"You made the right call by not engaging. No comment keeps you clean. You’re not the story, he is. Let her chase headlines without your help.”
“I just don’t want silence to look like guilt.”
“It won’t. It’ll look like dignity. Like someone who knows her name doesn’t belong in this mess."
"If this goes public, Arden, I don't want to be someone's footnote. Or the punchline to his scandal. The whore my father all but assumed I was, sleeping with him to get something out of it."
"In all fairness, you did sleep with him to get something out of it. Amazing orgasms and a fun few days."
"Not funny right now."
"Sorry. Too soon."
The line goes quiet except for the distant hum of Atlanta traffic waking up. When she speaks again, her voice carries that fierce protectiveness that's kept us friends since elementary school.
