June 1
I tried to put the feel of Sarah's hand on my shoulder out of my mind, but the truth is, I felt distracted all afternoon. By five o’clock, I’d answered all the calls that came to my desk, but done little else. My brain raced with anticipation—not of sex or even physical contact, but of breaking through Sarah’s walls and getting inside to glimpse the real her.
“Shall we go somewhere for coffee?” I asked her, when she’d hung up from her last call.
“Sure,” she said. “I’ll meet you at the place on Sepulveda.”
“If I wanted to catch you,” I said, “I’d wait outside the gate and wait for your car to show up.”
“What are you suggesting?” she asked.
“I think it would be safer if you rode with me,” I said.
Sarah sighed. “Okay,” she said. “You can drop me at my car later.”
“Fine,” I said, though I had my doubts.
“Wait,” she said. “I’m going to go into the ladies room for a few minutes while everyone leaves. I don’t want anyone to see us leave together.”
“Don’t squat where you eat?” I asked.
“Yes,” she replied. “But it doesn’t matter so much what we’re doing or not doing, it only matters what they think we’re doing—and I don’t want to give anyone a reason to think anything.”
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll wait ten minutes and go to my car. I’ll wait for you there.”
A half hour later, only my car and Sarah’s remained in the parking area. Sarah still hadn’t come out. I began to wonder whether she might have slipped out another way and ridden with one of the girls instead, but that didn’t make much sense.
I glanced at the clock in the dash when she finally appeared: 5:47. She approached my car, and I unlocked the door for her. She got in and closed the door without saying a word. I gazed at her for a moment. She didn’t look at me, and it was obvious she’d been crying again.
“Are you okay with this?” I asked.
“No, but let’s do it anyway,” she said. “I really hate dragging you into this.”
“Into what?” I asked.
“Just drive,” she instructed. “I’ll tell you when we get there.”
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