"No?"
"No. I'm not that miserable about being in Duster. I've had a lot of time to think and I'm more angry with myself than anything. I've spent so much of my life doing nothing." She glances up. "I've never held a job for longer than four months, even though those jobs were handed to me on a silver platter and didn't involve much more than networking. I had endorsementsand I made money from social media. I called that a job but that's gone now, since the crash. Nobody's going to pay me to wear their brand when I'm a punchline."
She sighs. "I picked the worst men because they looked good in photos and they made my life feel important. I picked friends the same way and never asked myself if I actually liked any of them." She pauses. "The second I was in trouble, they all disappeared. Perhaps I would have done the same."
"I'm sorry about your friends," I say. "That must hurt."
She nods. "I think Dad was right when he said this would be good for me. I was so angry with him — I'm still a little angry, because he could have at least let me have a coffee maker. But he was right. I look at you and how hard you work, and the difference you make every day, and I admire that. I don't think I've admired anyone in a long time."
I don't know what to say to that. I'm genuinely without words, which is not something that happens to me often.
"You've been very kind to me too," she adds. "Considering everything."
"Honestly," I say. "It's been nice having you around."
She holds my gaze and then her eyes drop to my mouth again.
It's a half-second, no more. But I see it, and she knows I see it. She blushes and clears her throat.
"I should — I'd better go back and have a shower." She stands, picks up her plate and her empty bottle. "I'll help you clear up first."
33
SLOANE
The notifications come in a wave as I sit cross-legged on the bed in a T-shirt and underwear. Texts, missed calls, emails, socials. I scroll fast, looking only for the names that matter, ignoring everything else. Mom — three texts. My sister, Margot — one. And Sita. Four missed calls and a message from yesterday:Pick up!! Are you ignoring me?
I open Mom's first. She wants to know if I'm okay. I type back:I'm fine. Don't worry about me xxx.Then I send the same to Margot.
I tap Sita and she immediately picks up. "Where the fuck have you been?"
"In Duster, Sita. Same place I've been for a while. Sorry I didn't answer. I haven't really been on my phone. It gives me anxiety."
"Babe."
"It's fine. I'm fine. How are you?"
"I'm good. Had a quiet week. But last week, oh my god, Sloane. Listen. Listen to what happened."
This is one of Sita's favorite words, listen, deployed with emphasis when she's about to tell a story she has clearly already told several times.
She launches in. "So Palm Springs. Nicole's place. You know how the pool house was being redone? It's insane now. She's done the whole thing in this — I don't know what to call it, it's like a Moroccan thing and there are tiles everywhere, there's a fireplace outside, there's a whole — anyway. We got there Friday night and Mel had organized a private chef. This guy, Sloane, this guy. Korean fusion. It was so good.
"Anyway, listen. Mel got into a fight with Nicole's brother's girlfriend. Like a real fight. About a cat."
"About a cat?"
"Babe. About a cat. Apparently the girlfriend's been telling people Mel's cat is overweight, because Mel had posted that picture. You know the one."
"I don't know the one. I haven't been on social media."
"Okay, so there was a picture of Smokey on the bed, and the girlfriend told some mutual friend that Smokey looked morbidly obese, and somehow it got back to Mel. Meanwhile, Mel had been waiting for this opportunity, and Sloane, she went for her. She threw a drink at her and we had to pull them apart."
"Oh my god." There's no feeling behind my reaction. I don't know what it is — whether things that mattered before just don't anymore, or whether I'm finally seeing my friends for what they are. A stupid fight about a cat. Nothing worth a second thought.
"Yeah. You should have been there." The line goes still and I can sense the moment she realizes what she's said. "Oh," she says. "Oh fuck. I'm sorry. I didn't mean —"
"It's fine."
