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“It’s Maggie,” Missy shouts.
“Can you please tell Maggie to come in?” my father asks.
“She says she won’t. She says she has to talk to Carrie alone. She says it’s an emergency.”
The Mouse rolls her eyes. “Now what?” I put down my napkin and go to the door.
Maggie’s face is puffy with tears, her hair wild as if she’s been trying to pull it out by the roots. She motions for me to step outside. I try to give her a hug, but she backs away, shaking with rage. “I knew this was going to happen. I knew it.”
“Knew what?” I ask, my voice rising in alarm.
“I can’t talk about it here. Not with your father around. Meet me at The Emerald in five minutes.”
“But…” I look back at the house. “The Mouse is here, and—”
“So bring The Mouse,” she snaps. “The Emerald. In five minutes. Be there.”
“What the hell is her problem now?” The Mouse asks as we pull in next to Maggie’s car. It’s empty, meaning Maggie has gone inside alone, which is in itself cause for concern.
“I don’t know,” I say, feeling defeated. “I think it has something to do with Peter. And that story in The Nutmeg. About the Nerd Prince.”
The Mouse makes a face. “That wasn’t necessarily Peter.”
“Maggie thinks it is.”
“Typical. Maggie thinks everything is about her.”
“I know, but…” I’m considering spilling the beans about the true identity of Pinky Weatherton when the door to The Emerald opens and Maggie sticks her head out.
“There you are!” she exclaims grimly, and goes back inside.
She’s seated at the bar, drinking what appears to be a vodka with no ice. She gulps back the entire contents of her glass and asks for another. The Mouse orders a Scotch, while I ask for my usual Singapore Sling. I have a feeling this is going to be unpleasant, and I need something tasty to drink.
“Well,” Maggie declares. “She got him.”
“Who’s ‘she’ and who did she get?” The Mouse asks. I know she doesn’t mean to sound sarcastic, but she does, a little.
“Roberta,” Maggie scolds. “I promise you, this is not the time.”
The Mouse holds up her hands and shrugs. “Just asking.”
“But I guess it is kind of your fault as well.” Maggie takes another slug of vodka. “You’re the one who introduced us.”
“Peter? Come on, Maggie. You’ve known him for years. You just never noticed him before. And I don’t exactly recall telling you to go after him.”
“Yeah,” I chime in. “It’s not like anyone made you have sex with him.”
“Just because you haven’t—”
“I know, I know. I’m a virgin, okay? It’s not my fault. I probably would have slept with Sebastian if Lali hadn’t stolen him.”
“Really?” The Mouse says.
“Yeah. I mean, why not? Who
else am I going to have sex with?” I look around the bar. “I guess I could pick some random guy and do it in the parking lot—”
“Excuse me,” Maggie interrupts, banging her glass on the bar. “This is about me, okay? I’m the one in trouble here. I’m the one who’s freaking out. I’m the one who’s ready to kill myself—”
