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She didn’t use her snarky, sarcastic tone.
“Something like that,” Emily mumbled.
She’d texted Dani, asking if she could come over and spend
the night. Kind of. Because it was Emily, the text was more
something to the effect of wondering if she could have a
sleepover. She actually used the word sleepover and tacked on
“debrief” and “regroup” at the end of it.
The fact that Emily wanted to spend the night at Dani’s
house made her pulse race crazily. She figured Emily was a
disaster and needed some advice, and she wasn’t about to lose
out on five grand, so she caved.
Before Emily could get there, Dani had gone into her room
and changed. And changed again. And again. She’d discarded
the ripped dress before going back to work earlier in the day,
and several more dresses, tunics, blouses, and jeans joined it
on the floor in her room. She’d had to tidy up, grabbing all the
clothes and stuffing them in her closet before Emily got there.
She’d then touched up her makeup. Made sure it was flawless.
Applied another coat of lipstick.
And she couldn’t say why. It wasn’t like she wanted to
impress Emily or anything.
No, not one bit.
She’d rushed around her small apartment, straightening the
bowl of apples and oranges on the small kitchen table, swiping
a clean dishcloth over the coffee table in the living room and
adjusting the afghan on the couch.
Not to impress Emily. No. No way.
No, not one bit.
“You should probably come in. If you have sorrows to
drown, it’s best done where the whole neighborhood can’t see
