Quickly, I change the topic. “What about you? How are you doing with all this?”
“Ugh. I don’t know if you noticed, but Carl and I keep fighting,” Fiona confesses, sighing loudly again. “We’ve been…rocky.”
“I’m sorry. I hope things get better soon.”
If we were real friends and not tenuous work colleagues, I would be twisting with agony knowing that Carl is hooking up with Ashley behind Fiona’s back.
Once, I saw the guy Sage was dating at a Brady Street bar, aggressively making out with a lean blond. That night, back at the apartment, I warred with myself, wondering how to tell her. When I finally did, sitting Sage down on the couch her father bought us, handing her a preemptive glass of wine, Sage had laughed.
“We’re not serious,” she said, tossing back the cabernet anyway. “He can kiss whoever he wants. I certainly am.”
That was how Sage operated. She took everything lightly. Nothing sunk in past her skin, nothing stuck to her. Everything would work itself out, and it would work out in her favor. Maybe it was a mindset cultivated from growing up wealthy, from always having a safety net to fall back on. It was how she distanced herself from me so swiftly and completely after announcing her book deal.
“We’re different people,” Sage had whispered in the doorway of the apartment. It was one of the last things she said to me in the space we shared for two years. She had come back to grab her remaining belongings—all the small things that the movers hadn’t already packed up and transported to her fancy new riverside apartment. “I’m sorry it had to be this way, but I know you’ll never be able to move on from this. It’s better we go our separate ways. You feel things too deeply, Char. You don’t know how to let go.”
She was right, in a way. I hadn’t been able to let go. I obsessed over her book from afar, scouring internet forums about legal action, hoping there was something, anything I could do. When it became clearA Song of Scales and Saltwas a freight train, no stopping it, I still didn’t release the hope that maybe, one day, Sage would come to her senses and tell the truth. It was the only thing I could think about. The other books I read for @ChaptersWithCharlie felt like memories I had already forgotten; the posts I wrote about them using Sage’s voice were perfunctory and uninspired. I was waiting for Sage. I was waiting for her to do the right thing, honoring our friendship.
She never did.
Only when Sage died was I finally forced to let it go. The truth could never come out, or so I thought. The regret and despair, the finality of the situation, crushed me. I gave up, decided to pivot. Find a different job. Put publishing, and my former best friend, behind me forever.
“Carl and I will be fine,” Fiona replies, snapping me back from the memories.
“Is he okay?” I ask, remembering Carl in the bridge earlier. “He might be coming down with something. He’s been coughing a lot. Wheezing. Does he have asthma?”
Fiona shakes her head, her pink tresses swaying. “No asthma. He’s been really tired today though… You might be right. Maybe I should go easier on him if he’s getting sick.” She flicks a strand of hair out of her face. “I don’t do well in tense situations. I’m not one of those people who becomes a courageous leader in emergency scenarios. I shut down. But I don’t want to be like Piper either, pushing people away.”
“Yeah…” I can’t forget about the golden bracelet, about swimming with Piper, about spotting the same bracelet on Elena’s arm in one of her Instagram pictures. “Looks like she’s dealing with something.”
Fiona sucks her cheeks in. “You’ve noticed her drinking problem. I’m not surprised. It’s getting worse. I keep telling Viv that Piper needs a break, maybe off the boat, but she’s insistent on keeping her close by.”
“Why?” I ask, leaning forward. “Why not let her get the help she needs?”
Fiona glances at my face and then quickly looks away. “Viv likes to be in charge.”
“You mean she’s controlling.”
“I didn’t say that.”
I cross my arms. “Did you know she was going to pull that stunt earlier? Recording me?”
Fiona exhales sharply and meets my eye for real this time. “No. I swear. When I saw she posted it on theEmpressaccount, I assumed she got your permission. But then I noticed you hadn’t accepted the collaboration request. It wasn’t shared to your page too, which was weird. I realized she probably didn’t tell you. She…she does that sometimes. If she has a good idea, she runs with it and explains later.”
“I didn’t think it was such a ‘good idea,’” I grumble. “She blew up my life. I can’t imagine the kind of things I’ll have on my phone when we get service back.”
“I know it’s a lot,” Fiona says, and there’s a fragile and lacy apology woven in her words. “But if there’s one thing Viv knows, it’s social media branding. She’d never sabotage a girl who works for her. It wouldn’t make sense. Especially not after hiring you so quickly. It sucks, but if she did it, it means she thinks you can level up from it.”
This is so similar to what Viv herself told me from her bathtub earlier that the remaining fight leaks from my body. The fists I didn’t realize I was holding uncurl and I slump back against the door, tilting my chin so I can stare up at the ceiling.
“I didn’t want the attention, especially after Sage’s death,” I murmur. “I gave up. On getting justice. On the truth. On my own dream of getting published. It was too painful. And now that doorhas been blasted back open. Not everyone is going to believe me. What if Sage’s family or publisher comes after me?”
Fiona shakes her head. “They can’t.” When I look at her quizzically, Fiona clarifies. “My uncle handles a lot of defamation lawsuits. You can’t legally defame the dead. At least not in this country. Slander, libel, all that stuff needs a living victim—someone whose reputation has been harmed. I mean, maybe there’s an added layer of complexity due to Sage being a public figure who represents a publishing house, but really, no one is going to sue you for this.”
My chest immediately feels ten times lighter. So much has happened since the internet went out; I haven’t had time to fully panic over the implications of Viv’s post, but now it’s clear that the apprehension was repressing itself in my lungs, heavy and waiting to immobilize me.
“Y-you’re sure?” I confirm.
Fiona gives me a half smile. “You’re going to get drama. But it’s unlikely you’ll get a lawsuit. Listen, Viv is smart. She wouldn’t have done it if she thought you getting in real trouble was a possibility.”
