Page 48 of The False Flat

Deanna: I’m in the car. Told them I had to go to the bathroom, where I briefly contemplated cocaine. Don’t eat. I’m bringing dinner.

I scrambled to my feet and hobbled around my house, trying to decide what to clean first. How was it possible for one person to make this big of a mess? I barely owned anything!

I’d just finished shoving the last armload of crap into the pantry, my faux cleaning method, when Deanna knocked on the door.

She breezed in, bringing life into my living room along with two white bakery boxes and a bottle of something pink and, I hoped, alcoholic.

I peered inside the top box. “What is this?” I asked.

“A charcuterie.”

The box was filled with sliced cheese, rolled meats, different fruits, nuts, and artfully arranged vegetables. “Did you just have this lying around?”

“I made this one earlier today. It was supposed to be for book club, but I was already exhausted. I spent the day with Mere, going over why we can’t afford our own space right now. Yeah, I’m starting to wonder why I’m still her friend. Then the bachelorette party I was supposed to cater canceled after I’d already made food. And then King showed up. I knew he was coming, but . . . it’s always a shock to see him at the door. When I opened the fridge, those little meats and cheeses sang, ‘Take us!’ So I said, ‘Screw it,’ grabbed the box and this.” She held up what was indeed a bottle of pink champagne. “And I brought dessert in this box. Impromptu girls’ night.” Her face melted into slight insecurity. “I hope you’re not too mad at me for barging in.”

Excitement flashed through my body. Grant had texted me yesterday, telling me that he’d talked to Mere. Operation Sabotage was in motion. Deanna might be sad now, but she had no idea what awaited her. “You brought dinner, dessert, and champagne. You’re forgiven.” I stretched toward the dessert box, but she held it out of reach.

“Later. Why are you only wearing one shoe?”

I had completely forgotten about my shoe predicament.

“I can’t get it off. I’m going to have to coordinate all my outfits with this one, final pair of shoes.”

“At least they look nice. This one does at least.” She placed the champagne on the cardboard box serving as my coffee table. “I’ll get it off.”

After pulling some magical hand potion from her purse, she slathered my foot and finally released me from the designer footwear.

I rubbed the ham pulsing at the end of my leg. “You think I could sue Jimmy Choo?”

“These are Jimmy Choos? What size are you? Can I borrow them?”

“Obviously I’m one size bigger than whatever these are, but my mom gave them to me, so they’re probably two sizes too small.” Did my mom give me everything I have in my closet?

My stomach growled loudly, interrupting whatever she’d been about to say next. I opened the charcuterie box and drooled.

“I forgot flutes,” she said. “Do you have anything we can drink this out of?”

I went to the kitchen and came back with two coffee cups. “I’m afraid this is it.”

She rolled her eyes but took both heavy, off-white mugs and filled them.

The bubbles tickled my nose. “Why was this King guy over at your house if you hate him so much?”

“I don’t hate him. I just . . .” She sighed, then crunched a sliced red pepper. “He’s trying to get William to go to Bonnaroo for his thirty-eighth birthday in a couple weeks. Apparently, Grant already said yes, so William wants to go, and he wants me to come because Elaine’s going with Grant. And King’s girlfriend Halo is going with him.”

Elaine.

“Bonna-what? And Halo? Are you serious? You’re making these names up.”

Her laughter filled the room.

“I keep forgetting you’re not from here. It’s a big festival held in mid-June every year. Music, food, arts, crafts, yoga, you name it. Everyone sleeps in a tent or their car.” Her smile was exaggerated. “We’d only be going Saturday and Sunday. One night. But still. Frankly, the fact that William is considering it makes me question our entire relationship.”

I googled it as I nibbled a piece of cheese wrapped in salami. “It actually looks like it could be fun.” I scrolled through some pictures of carefree, smiling people, all of which Deanna scowled at. “Ooh, look.” I turned my phone back to her. “You can rent a fancy RV that’s already set up there so you’re not crammed together with a bunch of sweaty people. It’s technically referred to as ‘glamping.’”

She poured more champagne into her coffee mug. “I don’t know. Glamping?”

“Glamorous camping. Like camping, but with all the amenities of home,” I said, forcing cheer into my voice.