Page 23 of Old Flames

Ayesha let out a choppy laugh. “You’re ganging up on me? Unbelievable! You always do this!”

“Always do what?” Vicky asked. “Please don’t use the past as an excuse. We were bad roomies. That doesn’t make you a martyr.”

Sebastien entered the lounge. “I’m here to break up the bathroom brawl,” he announced. “We can hear you out there. The boys are placing bets.”

“We’re not fighting,” Ayesha said, quick to save face.

“You are,” Sebastien said. “Daphne says you three were college roommates. I get it. If I ever cross paths with my first roommate, it’s war. But we’re in paradise, the happiest place on earth, some may say. This isn’t the time or place to settle old scores.”

Chastened, all three followed Sebastien out of the lounge until Jules reversed course, grabbed Vicky by the arm, drew her back in. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“Me? I’m fine!” Vicky said, flippant. “I don’t care what Ayesha thinks.”

“You’re not a joke,” Jules said.

Vicky scoffed. “Right? She’s the joke!”

“You are not a joke,” Jules repeated, hoping to get through to her. “She wishes she were more like you.”

“Now you’re laying it on thick.”

“It’s true.”

“There’s no timeline in which Ayesha envies me. She’s got much more going on than I ever will.”

“You have something most writers crave—a connection with your readers,” Jules said. “You’ve got a fan base. Who does she have?”

“Oprah.”

“Will Oprah join her fandom? I don’t think so.”

Vicky held still a moment, not blinking, not breathing, then suddenly bursting into tears. Jules collected her friend in her arms. “There, there, little one.”

“What’s gotten into me tonight?” Vicky said between sobs. “It must be the whole situation with Kit, the way Barbara took care of it. She didn’t even give me a hard time, not really. Then you, standing up to Ayesha just now . . . Thanks for that.”

“Don’t mention it.”

The truth would go unsaid. Vicky was not one to come undone over her mother’s crumbs of kindness, and she knew the lengths Jules would go to defend her. The lecture had likely drained her. Vicky could not speak candidly about her grandmother without crying. The last time she saw Maria, she was confined to a nursing home bed, constrained for her own safety. Agitated and alarmed, she’d screamed for Vicky to get out of her room. Vicky never returned and mourned the relationship she had treasured above all. Tonight, though, in arguably the happiest place on earth, the kind thing to do was accept her version of the truth.

“I love you,” Vicky said. “You know that, right?”

“I do.” Jules stepped away to grab a paper towel. “Dry your eyes. Let’s go out there and get back to being bad bitches.”

Vicky laughed through her tears. “Please! Someone, get me a drink!”

They exited the lounge just as Leo reentered the restaurant, phone in hand. It appeared that he had stepped out to take a call.

“Were you on the phone with your bookie?” Jules asked. “I heard you guys were placing bets on the fight.”

“How did it go? My money was on you,” he said with a cracking smile.

“That’s too bad. It wasn’t my fight to win or lose.”

“I’m not surprised,” he said. “Nothing ruffles your feathers, does it?”

Jules was feeling ruffled now. By contrast, he looked fresh and neat, in a way that should turn her stomach but didn’t. He wore a loose blue cotton shirt and jeans. His thick chestnut hair was swept back.

Vicky slunk away, affirming her need for a cocktail. Leo and Jules stayed put.