“Is Andrew there?” I said instead of hello.
“Good morning to you, too.”
“Is he?”
“What? No. He went back to Detroit yesterday. Why? What’s going on?”
“Tell me the truth,” I said. “Have you slept with him?”
“I don’t understand…”
“Just answer the question.”
“Well, it’s really none of your business, Mother Teresa, but the answer is no,” she said.
“Don’t,” I warned.
“Why not?”
I took a deep breath. “Because I already did.”
“What?”
“I slept with him.”
“You slept with who?”
“With Andrew.”
“Get out of here. You did not.”
“Except I knew him as Roger.”
“Are you okay? You’re starting to scare me.”
“He came to my office months ago, introduced himself as Roger McAdams, said he was looking to buy a condo. And I slept with him. Twice.”
“Go on,” she said warily.
“It’s a long story.”
“Which I can’t wait to hear.”
“Can you meet me later?”
“Wouldn’t miss it. When and where?”
“One o’clock. I’ll pick you up.”
“I’ll be waiting.”