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“Is that what you guys call it? We called it hairy buffalo.”

“Whatever. You didn’t answer my question.”

Rory takes a sip of her beer. “It was sweet and refreshing. Better than any other hairy buffalo I had.”

“Do you think the drugs made it sweeter?” he asks.

“I have no idea. I doubt it.”

“Maybe you were just high on life that night, Ror,” I say. “You know, after being crowned the most beautiful and popular girl at school.”

Rory rolls her eyes. “You call me beautiful and popular. You admit you were envious of me. Neither of you knew, back then, how I was struggling.”

“Struggling?” Jesse asks. “You mean with your bisexuality?”

“Yeah, that was a big part of it. But another part was that I just didn’t think I had what it took to be a star, even then.”

I drop my mouth open. “Are you kidding me?”

“Geez, Cal, have you noticed lately? I didn’t make it. I’m not an operatic mezzo. I’m a music teacher in a one-horse town.”

“And I’m not a rocker in Hollywood,” Jesse says. “That’s fucking life, Ror.”

“For God’s sake.” Rory downs another draw on her beer. “I’m not feeling sorry for myself. Forget about now. I’m talking about then. Everyone expected the best from me. I was homecoming queen. Voted most likely to sing at the Met. Plus I was dealing with my attraction to women as well as men. I knew I wasn’t as smart as you, Callie—”

“You’re every bit—”

“Oh my God, would you let me finish?”

“Sorry.” I look down at my lap.

“I knew I wasn’t as smart as you. Mom made that clear every day. So there I was, the most popular, and I could sing and act, but I was Snow Creek good. Maybe Denver good, but far from New York or Hollywood good. I was bisexual, though I wasn’t sure how to put it into words at that time, and I wasn’t brilliant. Not even close. But everyone expected great things from me. Rory Pike, what a beauty. But beauty’s only skin deep. Deep down, I knew I didn’t have it. Think about that for a hot minute. Put it all together and what do you get?”

Jesse lifts his eyebrows.

“The freaking hairy buffalo was sweeter than syrup because I was struggling, and it gave me a high. A high I needed that night of all nights. The night I became the homecoming queen, because deep down I knew that was the best I’d ever be.”

“I’m sorry.” Jesse takes another pull of beer. “I should have seen what you were going through.”

“Me too,” I add.

“You were a kid, Callie. And Jess, you were four years older. Gone. Maybe Mom and Dad should have seen it, but you two bear no guilt.”

“You’re so much more than a pretty face and an amazing voice,” Jesse says. “You know that now, I hope.”

“I do. But I’m ten years wiser. I’m talking about that night. About why I drank that shit and wanted more. Why it tasted so good to me.”

“I get it,” I say. “But I’m glad you didn’t drink any more of it.”

“I don’t break promises to my sister.” Rory smiles weakly.

“Still,” Jesse says, “I wish you had come to me about the photos. About everything.”

“Maybe we should have,” I say, “but how exactly do you tell your big brother that some derelict drugged you and snapped naked photos of you? It’s not dinner conversation, Jess.”

“The girl’s right,” Rory agrees.

“I can’t fault you there, I guess.” Jesse gives Zach a pet on the head. “How much of it do you think Diana Steel drank?”

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