The alternative, of course, was going out and calling my mom again. Hearing all about how I needed to find a nice man and make some babies.
But at least that was safe. I was just so fucking tired of not being safe, of constantly dangling over the edge, never knowing how I’d afford the next month’s rent, if my trajectory was going down. Struggling just to keep my head above water. People weren’t meant to live like that. Life was never meant to be like that.
Man, this fucking city.
I took Estelle’s hand.
Chapter 23
Helena
I couldn’t just be partying every night, but it wasn’t like I had anything else to do, and at least if I was going to events and talking to people, I didn’t have to think too much about… well, anything. Estelle met me at the doors to the building, dressed in a jumpsuit that was effortlessly cool, a bright pink lip that popped, and I looked like I’d crawled out from a hole. I wondered if Julie would still describe me as the go-to for when someone wanted a picture of an unattainably attractive woman.
“You look hot, babe,” she lied.
“I think I’ve looked better.”
“Well, we’ll see how you feel after a drink or two.”
“I’m not binge drinking every night,” I said. “One drink tonight, tops.”
“Ever the responsible one, babe. Okay, are we going, or what?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Stellie… what are you hiding?”
“I killed a man.”
“Well, of course you did. But what else are you hiding?”
“I invited a cutie to this event,” she laughed into her hand. I groaned.
“I’m not looking to flirt my way out of this…”
“You don’t have to flirt! But if you do flirt, I’m happy for you. Let’s go.”
She was insufferable. But I knew that. I followed her into the building, where we took the elevator up to the rooftop. It was a stylish place, very elegant and classic, half covered and half out to a rooftop terrace with a stunning view of the Empire State Building all lit up against the night. Pretty busy place, too, which, as much as I didn’t want to give Estelle credit—I hated how she was always right in the end—it was what I needed right now. I followed her to the bar, where she asked for a rum and Coke, which was a generic drink but just made me think how it was Julie’s favorite, and a Moscow mule with a light pour, and I sipped the drink gratefully when she gave it to me.
“Where are your friends?” I said, resting against the bar and scanning the crowd for familiar faces.
“I think they should just be arriving now,” she said, slipping her phone from her purse. “Let me go meet them at the doors too. Grab a spot at the railing to hang out.”
“Bossy.”
“Love you, babe,” she said with a nudge, and she was gone before I knew it. I held our drinks—she hadn’t even touched hers, but she was always bouncing from one thing to the next—and I pushed out to where it wasn’t actually too busy by the railing. Stood there leaning against the sleek glass barrier, sipping my drink, looking up at the city skyline around us, and when I saw a figure leaning against the rail with me out of the corner of my eye, I glanced lazily over and almost dropped my drink off the side of the building when I saw her there.
Julie Branch, the absolute last person I wanted to see. Wearing her suit, hair and lashes done, just like when I’d first met her, at a rooftop party just like this.
“Hey,” she said, and she went to rest one elbow casually on the rail, banging on the corner of it instead. “I was—ow—shit.”
My stomach twisted up on itself, a red-hot sensation bubbling up in my face, and I pushed off from the railing. “I’m not talking about this right now,” I said, and her face fell, turning after me.
“Helena—wait, I was—”
“We already did this. I’m not having another conversation. Go have your life back in Missouri, and I’m not…” I didn’t even have a conclusion for that thought. I just marched away, storming back towards the entrance, and I only got into the covered terrace before I realized I couldn’t just walk out with drinks in hand.
Estelle had probably planned that. Dammit, the rum and Coke was for Julie, wasn’t it? I was drunk on spite, because I stopped and knocked back the rum and Coke just so she couldn’t have it, downing the whole thing in one go like an animal, and I set it down at the end of the bar and started on my own drink. I looked like an alcoholic.
A man sidled up next to me at the bar, a guy with a red suit who looked like he thought he was hot shit. “I respect a girl who knows how to party,” he said, leaning against the bar next to me with his hands in his pockets.
