Forest stared back. “Excuse me?”
“Need to Know.”
Forest wondered exactly how many minutes of conversation he missed while unlocking his cell. “Repetition isn’t helping.”
“The website.”
The last threads holding Forest’s patience ripped apart. He turned in his seat and sent Wen a get-to-it-now scowl. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Didn’t you hear the guys at the club talking?”
His least-favorite place. Forest didn’t fit in with the “in” crowd and he was more than fine with that. “I go there for business lunches because I have to. The rest is pure bullshit and not how I ever want to spend a day.”
Wen smiled as he put the key in the ignition and the sports car roared to life. “Because you suck at golf.”
Something else that didn’t bother Forest. “I wear that as a badge of honor.”
“Anyway, it’s a website.” Wen put the car in gear and eased out of the spot.
At this point in the post-meeting process Forest usually dove into his work emails or his schedule. Small talk during car rides was one of the many things he had no interest in. Just like golf and charity events and Monday holidays.
But Wen acted like whatever he was saying mattered, so Forest didn’t turn off his attention just yet. “What is?”
“Need to Know. Stop frowning at me and take a look.” Wen slipped his cell out of his suit pocket, hit a button and handed it over.
“You’re showing me a member-login screen.”
“For an anonymous site where women post information on their dates with D.C.’s business and political elite.”
Now, that sounded a bit more interesting than anything Forest had heard today. He rested his cell on his thigh and reached for Wen’s. Forest tried the site’s home link and contact screen. It all struck him as some big puzzle that led nowhere. “You can’t access it without signing in.”
“But word is getting around. Some of our business associates are being named on it, and not in flattering ways.”
“It sounds like tattling, more in line with something a preteen girl would do than an adult woman.” Forest glanced up and realized the car hadn’t moved. They sat idling in the middle of a lane, a good thirty feet from the security gate at the parking exit. “Drive.”
“You’re not getting this.”
Not for lack of trying. He used his own phone to search for information about the site while he poked around, but after a quick check he couldn’t track it back to a name. “Enlighten me.”
“The women have to be approved for membership. They’re vetted and then once online they post about their dates, rate the sex, even comment on a guy’s body and breath. They talk about whether a guy is financially viable or known for cheating.” Wen lifted his hands off the wheel and smacked them down again. “I’m telling you, nothing is sacred.”
Forest tried to imagine the whining the men at the clubs must be engaged in over this. Now, that made him smile. “Cheating isn’t sacred. Any man who is stupid enough to do it should get caught, but I get your point about the rest. Question is why anyone is paying any attention to some random site.”
“Because women can’t be too careful.”
Forest shot his friend a sideways glance. “Come again?”
“It’s the site’s motto or tagline or whatever you call it.” Wen drove up the ramp and handed the ticket to the attendant in the booth. “You know what I mean.”
Forest bookmarked the site on his cell and handed the other phone back. He vowed to investigate the site further. Kick back at his desk at home and pry into Need to Know’s inner workings. Just for a bit of fun and distraction. There was something about taking the pieces apart, examining them and putting them all back together again that intrigued him.
Talking about it didn’t. “I’m ready to end this conversation and get out of here.”
“Sure, because you’re not on the website.”
Forest shook his head. Clearly he was alone in wanting to end the discussion. Still... “How can you know who’s on it and who isn’t if you can’t get access to it?”
“I asked Bernadette.”
“Jay’s secretary?” The thought of his chief financial officer’s assistant spending hours of valuable work time talking about a guy’s size and bank account sent the temperature in Forest’s head spiking.
“I overheard from my assistant that Bernadette is a member of the website and appears to be sworn to secrecy, but she confirmed that neither of us is on there.” Wen snorted as he drove over a bump and out into the bright sunshine. Light pounded on the front window and the summer heat filled the car. “Some of our associates aren’t so lucky.”
Forest ignored the steady stream of cars on the street in front of them and the honking of horns as some moron tried to make an illegal left in the middle of rush hour. “I think you need more work to occupy your time. I’ll get on that tonight.”
“It doesn’t bother you? The site I mean.” Wen glanced over at Forest, then away again. “And I’ve got enough work. But thanks.”
Everything about the day bothered him. Ryan’s idiocy. The way Ms. McAdam’s hips swayed when she walked, and the fact he kept noticing. “No.”
“What if one of your dates posts something negative on there? Do you understand what that could do to your social life?”
That was just about the last thing on Forest’s mind. “I’m fine.”
“I know you well enough to know you’d tear the city apart if your name goes up on the site.”
“You assume the information would be negative.”
Wen barked out a laugh as he turned right and moved into the flow of traffic. “Two hundred bucks says it is.”
Pissing away money didn’t make sense to Forest, but this was a bet he could win. “Five hundred says it’s not.”
“Of course, you may get to hold on to your money anyway even if I am right, since we won’t be able to verify what’s on the site to know who wins.”
“I’ll handle that.”
Wen’s attention left the traffic for a second only. “You think you can get in?”
Forest found his first smile of the afternoon. “I know I can.”
* * *
AN HOUR LATER, Jordan stood at the breakfast bar separating her kitchen from the small family room of her condo. She kicked off her high heels and nearly groaned in relief when her bare feet hit the cool tile floor. Working from her couch in her yoga pants qualified as the best part of being self-employed. She cursed every minute she had to slip on a suit and three-inch pumps and head outside.
But she was home now, having dragged her body through waves of humidity on the four-block walk from the metro to the condo. She glanced through the window at the far end of the open room and spied the top of a building on the George Washington University campus two blocks over. She loved living downtown and ten floors up. The lights and the steady hum of life below worked for her.
When the sun finally went down and the traffic below slowed, she’d throw open her balcony door and plop down on the chair she set up out there. The space spanned only a few feet, but was wide enough for her to lounge with