Free The Spellman Files by Lisa Lutz Page A

of the van.
    Inside the New Century, my mother sat at a booth and ordered a club soda. Warner seemed decidedly uninterested in the floor show, studying paperwork provided by a gray-haired patron in a black turtleneck and designer jeans. There was a smattering of customers throughout the sea of maroon velvet.
    However, it was not Warner who caught my mother’s eye. Seated in the front row, regarding the auburn-haired stripper with the focus of a religious zealot, was Sean Ryan, (soon-to-be) Ex-boyfriend #6. My mother is a woman who has seen everything, and so finding her daughter’s boyfriend in a strip club did not in itself raise a red flag. What troubled her was that the entire staff knew his name.
    Warner left after a half-hour meeting with the turtleneck guy. Their conversation was lost under what sounded like the soundtrack from Shaft. My mother reluctantly exited the club on Warner’s heels and finished the job with Jake.
    However, the next day, my mom pawned off the Warner detail on Dad and Uncle Ray, and returned to the New Century Theatre, wearing a shoulder-length blonde wig and sunglasses. She didn’t expect to see Sean there again, but he returned at precisely the same time and sat in precisely the same spot. Two days in a row at a strip club spurred my mother’s suspicion and she extended her tail on Ex-boyfriend #6 for the next week. He returned to the New Century twice more and frequented a number of sex shops in the neighborhood during the daytime. At night, Mom dropped her tail, knowing that Sean was either with me or at work.
    My mother asked me when Sean’s birthday is. I fell for that trick since she was reading the horoscopes and had gone through every member of the family and a few of our seasonal employees first. When she asked about Ex #6, it was so casual, I didn’t catch on. I just assumed she was showing some interest, since Sean and I had been seeing each other for over three months—which, I should remind you, was some kind of record for me.
    However, the birth date was not so Mom could buy him a present, but to acquire a Social Security number and run a credit check. (I never fell for that again.) From the credit check my mom used her sources at one of the credit card companies to access his recent charges. The ethics and legality of this move are beyond questionable, but my mom had a question that she needed answered.
    Thursday morning, after my mother determined that her investigation was complete, she called me into the office for a debriefing.
    “Sweetie, your boyfriend is a porn addict.”
    “Jesus Christ,” I said, thinking if she really loved me, she’d have waited until I’d had my coffee. “And you know this how?”
    My mother itemized Sean’s behavior during the prior week and then presented me with several credit card bills, as well as his rental history at Leather Tongue Video. I skimmed the titles, trying to keep my expression steady, but it was hard when the list included Tits of Fury; Dude , Where’s My Dildo?; Double-D Inspector; and Sperms of Endearment, among less derivative, but equally X-rated, titles.
    “Honey, I got no problem with anyone who wants to give their sex life some spark with an adult video now and again. However, what I have observed points to a compulsive tendency.”
    “What do you expect me to do with this information?” I asked.
    “It’s up to you, sweetheart. I’m not suggesting you break up with him. All I’m saying is, if you plan on staying with Sean, you might want to learn how to give a first-rate lap dance.”
    I made my exit without a sound. I couldn’t give my mother the satisfaction of any response. While I had no previous suspicions of what she had told me, I knew my mother and I knew that she didn’t misinterpret evidence. But I had to see it for myself. I had to assemble my own proof. That same night, I waited until Ex-boyfriend #6 was in a dead sleep and I turned on his computer. If a man’s not careful, you can learn an