The two had even taken advantage of the renovation to add a little bedroom nook for workers. Everything was in place, and they could now start putting what little money they had left into the paper itself. Although Keith and his crew had made the best of recycled and found materials, Sally-Anne and May had still had to invest most of their savings into the renovation.
By the end of the month, they had skimmed and scraped together enough to acquire some cheap furniture and secondhand equipment. May found half a dozen typewriters thrown into a trash heap by an insurance company that had upgraded to IBM Selectrics. Sally-Anne went on a charm offensive of mythical proportions and got a great deal on a collection of secondhand equipment: an old mimeograph machine (a poor man’s printing press), a pair of tape recorders, a light box for the photo studio, six chairs, and a velvet sofa. She scored the entire package for next to nothing, which was important considering they had next to nothing when September rolled around.
Early one Sunday morning, May decided to go to mass, as she did from time to time. Her faith was one of the only things from her past she hadn’t completely left behind, and yet she still felt guilty every time she set foot in a church. She hadn’t come to ask God for forgiveness; she had come to get away from it all, even if only for an hour. She refrained from prayer, as it would have been an insult to the others in attendance. May looked out over the congregation, wondering about the lives of the people gathered in the pews. She watched children yawning their way through litanies, and tried to imagine which couples truly loved each other and which were only sharing the same bed. May was troubled. As exhilarating as it was for her to be living life with such freedom, it came with its own anxiety, and she feared loneliness above all.
The night before, Sally-Anne had come home late from a charity gala that had bored her to tears. She had only attended to try and convince a young entrepreneur to invest in the Independent. Sally-Anne didn’t find the man quite attractive enough to venture outside the realm of the professional into less constrained territory.
The young businessman had listened politely to her pitch, but raised a few concerns. The challenge arose from trying to generate profits from a newspaper lacking any kind of national scope. Since television had started sucking all the oxygen from advertising budgets, print was barely profitable these days. This trend only seemed to be on the rise, so the businessman had to wonder if print media’s days were numbered. Despite Sally-Anne’s intelligent and compelling counterarguments, she simply couldn’t get the man to budge, and he was ultimately unconvinced the project had enough profit potential to warrant investment. She stressed that there were other benefits beyond the bottom line. The country was in dire need of newspapers that were independent and not in the pockets of the rich and powerful. Out of sheer courtesy, the businessman committed to supporting the Independent in the second round of investment, so long as the paper had a successful first year. Sally-Anne ended up returning home late at night, still fuming, and her rage only intensified when she found May and Keith sleeping side by side in the bed. It was her bed, too. She toyed with the idea of slipping under the covers with them, but ultimately opted for the sofa.
The next morning, Sally-Anne awoke to the sound of May leaving the loft and discovered that Keith was still sleeping soundly across the way. Hovering in the entrance to the loft, Sally-Anne watched Keith’s chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm. Even when unmoving and sprawled out on the mattress, the man exuded pure strength. His skin was divine, enticing her to explore the hair on his chest. She pulled Keith’s discarded shirt off the ground and pressed it to her face, taking in his distinctive scent.
If May had gone to church—and where else would she be headed this early on a Sunday morning?—she wouldn’t be back for another two hours, and Sally-Anne wouldn’t need nearly that long. She took off her T-shirt, slid down her panties, and climbed on top of Keith’s sleeping form. In one of nature’s great mysteries, the dawn transforms men into creatures of pure, uncontrollable desire. When he awoke to find Sally-Anne’s lips exploring his stomach, Keith didn’t put up much of a fight, and soon they were both enjoying the delights of an early-morning encounter. Afterwards, Sally-Anne rose, carrying her undergarments, and Keith climbed into the shower with her. While the two got dressed, they promptly agreed that none of it had ever even happened.