“Why do you have this card?” Frade said, sitting on the couch with the reporter's card in his hand. He glanced over the card and was about to toss it in the trash.
“No!” I stopped him at the bathroom door. “Keep the card.”
“Why?” Frade said, holding the card between his fingers. If he let go, the card would fall into a nearby trash can.
“I'm thinking about giving an interview.” I wiped my damp hair with a towel and quickly walked up to him to grab the card.
When I get home, the first thing I do is take a shower. I don't want the smell of cheap prison soap anywhere on my body. I put the reporter's business card on the table before I took a shower. I didn't think Frade would notice it.
“You haven't told me why.” Frade looked at me quizzically. “Eva, you're not in the right mood. Is something wrong?”
“Nothing.” I tossed the wet towel on the couch and went to the fridge for a soda. “I'm just thinking about a problem.”
