Not quite despairing, I down another gulp of chardonnay and say, “The popular ones.”
“I love the popular ones.”
Wait. Is he… is heflirting? I think so. It sounds like flirting. But why don’t I feel anything? Probably because Desmond tried to get me fired. Does that make this negging?
A touch on my shoulder causes me to turn around.
“Hey,” says Jane, unaware that she’s interrupting a possible moment. “I was heading outside to smoke. Wanna join?”
Huh. I wouldn’t have guessed that from Jane. A spark of interest, finally, flames to life inside my dulled and bored-sick brain. Better still: smoking seems like a normal thing to do, and Classic New York. Saying goodbye to Desmond—then once I’ve turned away, stuffing a couple cocktail napkins into my bra—I step outside after her. On the shallow balcony, a bone-chilling gust drives straight through my wet shirt. I shiver, detecting snowflakes.
Of course the sky is dueling the apartment for the prize of cold-hearted unfriendliness.
How rude of you, New York Sky.
“—on the weekend,” Jane is saying. I wonder how long she’s been talking and why I wasn’t listening. I mean, she never really says anything interesting, but she’s my roommate. And the only friend I have at this party. And potentially in this entire city.
“Uh-huh,” I say, trying for politeness. “I hear you.”
“Yeah? So we can start tomorrow. What do you think?”
WhatdoI think?
I tip my head back, aware of the elevator jazz and voices trickling out behind us. The buildings surrounding me; the hundreds of them. They stay bright whether it’s daytime or nighttime or fall or winter.This whole city’s bloated with rooms full of people who don’t care about me—and who I don’t care about either.
“Does it get better than this?” I ask. “Or is life always this predictable? And lame?”
Jane unpockets a vape pen. “What’s lame about coming up with house-cleaning schedules? I like schedules.”
Smoke covers my view of the buildings as Jane takes a hit. Of course she doesn’t smoke cigs or something; that would be too edgy. And this is the girl I’ve spent months idolizing. The person I’ve tried to emulate. I can’t help the shuddering revulsion that threatens to overtake me.
“Oh, Ann!” Jane flags down a woman in a gray cardigan that perfectly matches her expression. “Welcome back! How was Atlantic City?”
My phone buzzes against my chest, pulling me from their conversation. It’s weird. I was sure I turned off Slack for the party, and besides that, no one should be reaching out except for…
Wait. Did I send Hanry that lovestruck text, after all?
Horror drying out my guts, but tragically not the space between my breasts and bra, I reach into my crossbody bag and lift out my phone, holding the screen up to my eyes.
I. Did. Send it.
But Hanry hasn’t replied—or read it. The reason my phone vibrated was to send me a spam message from an unknown number. A message that reads:
What the hell is this?
And why is this the most interesting thing that has happened to me all night?
I stare down at the avenue eight floors below. At the lights, the cars, and the people, the busy scrambling on their hedonic treadmills. I blame my right-handed wine for what I do next.
I call the random number.
“AHH, SABBY!” screams Mandy’s voice in my ear. “I DIDN’T KNOW YOU COULD READ PIXIE! I’M SO GLAD!”
“I—what?!” I ask, rubbing my temples. Casting a quick glance at Jane and the others, who might have also temporarily lost their hearing, I whisper, sotto voce: “I didn’t know you had a phone.”
“I DON’T, this is the cricket’s!” Hold on. Did she say cricket? Since when did crickets have phones, and since when have they been large enough for a full-size person totypeon? “I just wanted to DOUBLE-CHECK, so DON’T worry about anything! But you know on the wedding schedule, well, I was thinking… what if the photographers were enchanted? Do you think that’d be a problem? It’s not a problem, right?”
It takes a beat before I remember what Bulan said: that Mandy was going to plan and coordinate the weddings I’d bailed on. But I’d never thought of the broader implications. If I’m remembering correctly, this weekend is the one that Rochester’s clients had selected for their event.
