“Lunch.”
“Don’t.”
Sophie stood beside the mirror while Dani repaired the makeup I had applied myself and therefore applied incorrectly.
“You are not confirming a relationship,” Sophie said.
“I’m aware.”
“Do not discuss Ellie’s job.”
“I’m aware.”
“Do not mention Claire.”
“I had no intention of mentioning Claire.”
“Do not criticize the label.”
“That depends on whether they earn it.”
Sophie closed her eyes.
Dani leaned toward me with a makeup brush.
“Could you avoid making her cry until I finish?”
“I’m not crying,” Sophie said.
“You have the posture.”
Rachel sat on the sofa with Mayor Shelldon in her lap.
The turtle appeared calmer than the rest of us.
The interview would be live.
That had been Nina Cole’s condition.
Her nationally syndicated afternoon show was built around intimate celebrity conversations performed in front of two hundred strangers.
Nina was good.
Warm, funny, and skilled at making dangerous questions sound like invitations.
I had appeared on the show three times.
Once for my second album.
Once after an awards season.
Once during a holiday special where I had decorated cookies while discussing heartbreak.
The cookies had suffered.
A producer appeared at the door.
“Two minutes.”
