I pressed my lips together to prevent myself from telling Samantha to bid adieu to my coveted EP credit. The network always waited for raw footage to be in before cutting a full episode, so we were in a production holding pattern. I’d have to ground that flight sooner than later, but I had time.
Instead, I squinted around Dola’s makeup brush. “You really think this is real?”
“Listen to me.” Samantha’s eyes bored into mine.
Even with the air-conditioning, sweat lined the armpit holes of my jumpsuit. “I wouldn’t dream of not listening to you.”
A passenger-less pedicab zoomed in front of us, and our driver stopped short. Samantha braced herself against the back of the seat. “I’ve only ever had the United States military confirm something once in my life. This. And more striking, I have never had a personal conference call with the president of the United States until three-thirteen this morning. I need you to understand this, Olivia. This Soulmail thing is about as real as it gets.” She bent low over the phones.
“Can you shut your eyes?” Dola asked.
“No hot hair tools in the car,” Samantha said without looking up. “And hold the eye brushes for stops. Insurance liability, much?”
I obeyed Dola’s request, my brain traitorously imprinting Cambrey Coyle’s text on the black of my closed lids. The makeup artist used her fingers to sprawl something across the bridge of my brows.
I couldn’t blame myself for mistaking Wells’s care for Cambrey as a sign of him being a good human. Her presence had seemed innocuous, one of those lingering relationships that were formed when a person you mutually love dies young. Cambrey’s husband had been lucky enough to knowher twin brother, Charley, before he died. How did I know? I was at their wedding.
I swallowed against a rising tide of sadness. On this surreal, ridiculous morning, I was losing what felt like everything.
Perspective, Olivia, my dad was always so fond of saying.Where you place your attention dictates your experience in the world. I forced my mind to pivot from Cambrey, from Wells, and into one of Dad’s examples: How oceans look like a wash of cobalt with your feet in the sand, but like it contained every blue secret on earth if you were perched a few feet up on his fishing boat. It was your perspective that changed your perception.
And right now, I was in the air-conditioned back seat of acar. That had been sent for me. Me, Olivia Jane Adler.
“Relax,” Dola said.
“The ability to relax has vacated my body,” I muttered.
“Well.” Dola swept sticks of contour beneath my cheekbones. “I suppose that’s fair.”
“Does aloe make your hair happy or sad?” Al asked. “Are you allergic to anything? You need some oil.”
“Uh. My shampoo and conditioner are from Amazon.”
“Really?”Al stilled for a moment. “Wow. You feel very mom and pop to me. I didn’t think you’d shop from the big guy.”
“She is very mom and pop.” Samantha, smug.
“Subscribe and save,” I said weakly. “The place where convenience and price merge is a weakness of mine.”
Al plucked at a lock of my waves. “Your phone’s lighting up.”
“Who is it?”
“Says ‘Natalie Kim.’?”
We had approximately two more minutes until Rockefeller Plaza. I punched the answer button, and tinny music filled the car. “Nat?”
“Olivia, my love,” Natalie shouted. “Can you believe this?”
Warmth streaked my face. At that moment, I wanted absolutely, positively nothing more than to be on the couch at Natalie’s apartment, drinking pinot noir and watching something we’d seen a hundred times before likeForrest GumporBridesmaids, something we could watch but also laugh and/or cry through, depending on Natalie’s reactions to Wells’s middle-of-the-night text. “I wish you were here,” I said, a rush of affection nearly overwhelming my sadness.
“What is it, babe?” Her voice was muffled. I imagined her cupping a hand around the phone.
I darted my eyes toward my producer. “Something happened with W—”
“I can’t hear you,” Natalie said. “This desert house party is outrageous. People are acting like we’re in Lisbon or something.” Her tone was glassy. It was her champagne voice. “Did you read yours, Livi?”
“I—”
