I turned toward her.
“How do you know her name?”
“You looked at your phone this morning. It said Rachel Donovan.”
A small jolt went through me.
Ellie noticed.
She lifted both hands.
“I didn’t Google. I can read upside down. It’s one of my least marketable skills.”
I relaxed.
“She’s my manager.”
“What does she manage?”
“Mostly me.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It is. She has charts.”
“About you?”
“About everything. Schedules. Interviews. Travel. Reasons I’m not allowed to buy candles in bulk.”
Ellie took a sip of her drink.
“Were the candles dangerous?”
“They were entrepreneurial.”
“That’s not a no.”
“It was a difficult period.”
“What do you do?”
The question was gentle.
Not demanding.
Still dangerous.
I looked toward the water.
“I work in music.”
Ellie waited.
“That’s vague,” she said.
“I’m cultivating mystery.”
“You already asked me not to Google you. You don’t need to overperform.”
