“What kind of music?”
“Industrial noise, mostly. I dabble a little in glitch, too. Sometimes I rap over it. It’s all kind of freeform.”
“Oh, cool,” Grey said, suddenly very interested in her drink. She had no idea what to say next. Her brain felt like a shaken Etch A Sketch. Her eyes strayed back to the show, and the two of them resumed watching in silence.
After a few more minutes, he nodded at her, and left to go back to his friends. Grey’s stomach twisted. So much for being apowerful heartbreaker. She couldn’t help but feel like her leather leggings were disappointed in her.
She returned to Kamilah’s side after that, spending most of the evening smiling and nodding vacantly as Kamilah and her new friends recounted one outrageous tour anecdote after another. At the bottom of her third drink (fourth, including the tequila shot), her mind was loose enough to wander, against her will, to Ethan. What was he doing right now? Probably shut up in his office, drunker than she was. The thought should have made her feel relief at a bullet dodged, but instead she felt like crying. Did he miss her? Was he thinking about her? Why hadn’t he tried to contact her?
She scanned the room for Max, and caught his eye as he talked to his friends. She tilted her head a little, and he came sidling back over immediately. Maybe she wouldn’t have to turn in her seductress credentials after all.
“Wanna make out?” she asked, setting her empty glass on the table next to her with a punctuatingclink.His eyes widened a little in surprise, then a grin crept over his face.
“Yeah. Sure.”
She took his hand and led him out to the back stairwell, which was deserted, lit by dim red lights. Her intention was to find somewhere even more private, but as soon as the door shut behind them Max had her up against the wall, his mouth coming down on hers so hard their teeth clicked.
He immediately drove his tongue between her lips, alternating thrusting, sucking, and licking with a level of enthusiasm that left her gasping for air. Meanwhile, his hands found her breasts, squeezing and kneading in a manner that could only be described as dough-adjacent. She imagined this was what it might feel like to go through a car wash.
Grey tried her best to salvage the situation. She gently guidedhis hands down to her waist, then took his face in her own hands, pulling his head back a little to try to temper the vigorous onslaught of his tongue. However, this only seemed to encourage him to double down on his efforts. After several minutes of sloppy, ineffective tussling, she broke away, untangling herself from what seemed to be hundreds of groping hands and thrusting tongues.
“I, um—sorry. Thanks. Nice to meet you. Sorry,” she stammered, unable to meet his eyes as she stumbled back through the door. Miraculously, Kamilah was alone by the railing, and as she turned and took in Grey’s disheveled appearance and stricken expression, opened her arms to her wordlessly.
Grey wrapped her arms around Kamilah’s waist and rested her head on her shoulder.
“I missed you so fucking much,” she mumbled drunkenly. Kamilah leaned her head on top of Grey’s.
“Missed you, too. I assume you’re not up for the after-party?”
Grey shook her head. “You should still go, though. I’ll get a car. But can you come back for breakfast? Both of you. I want to hang out with Andromeda for more than five seconds.”
“As long as you’re okay with breakfast happening after 3p.m.”
Grey laughed. “Deal. I’ll make vegan pancakes.”
“Blueberry banana?”
“Obviously.”
Onstage, Andromeda reappeared for their encore, stripped down to the spandex straps, with huge, skeletal angel wings strapped to their back. They sat alone in front of a keyboard, and played a long, eerie chord.
Their voice rang out, cool and clear, sending a dagger straight to Grey’s heart.
“It’s been seven hours and fifteen days…since you took your love away…”
The tears that had been brewing in her chest all eveningbubbled up abruptly in an embarrassingly loud sob. Kamilah squeezed her shoulder as Grey wept openly, cathartically, through the entirety of Andromeda’s plaintive rendition of “Nothing Compares 2 U.” When the song ended, she was so emotionally exhausted she thought she might fall asleep standing up.
She felt purged. Cleansed. And more fucking confused than ever.
“PREVIOUSLY, ONPOISON PARADISE…”
Ethan had only meant to watch one.
Lucas had already left for the evening. To both of their surprise, Ethan’s awkward invitation for sports and a burrito had turned into a semiregular hang. When Lucas returned that first night, the two of them had sized each other up, trying to make the other one be the first to admit that he didn’t actually want to watch sports.
“How do you feel about Ken Burns?” Lucas finally asked.
So now, twice a week, the two of them ate takeout and watched an episode or two ofThe Vietnam War.They didn’t talk much, but Ethan had still learned more about Lucas in the past few weeks than he’d known in the past year Lucas had worked for him—or the twenty-three years that had preceded it.
