10

“The theme at World is that they carry beers, wines, and liquors from all over the world that you won’t find elsewhere. To me, it’s that unique quality, that thing you can’t get anywhere else that really makes something desireable,” Jimmy James, rancher-turned-nightlife impresario, said.

When I came home from Thanksgiving, David was still in St. Martin, but Ray was back already. We greeted each other with a lot of “What’s up?” and “Nothing, what’s up with you?” and somehow managed to act like nothing had been said on the phone the other night.

For two days and three nights we relied heavily on television movies and short, simple phrases such as, “Can you pass the stuffed crust pizza?” This allowed us to put off making any moves or decisions—after all, we’d known each other eight years, why rush things now? When he’d brush by or nudge me, I’d find myself blushing. Eventually, it seemed we’d nearly succeeded in sweeping the entire thing under the carpet, where we could if not comfortably, at least practically, catapult ourselves over the huge bump it created. And in this state, we met after work on Monday to check out World.

Jimmy James is a big name in the business, known from other ventures like Candle, Fire, and Tambourine. He’s got the world’s best publicist working for him, and she just happens to be a fan of mine. So I got my exclusive.

This was a very soft launch, with no press except for me. There was no line, and when Ray and I arrived we were escorted by Jimmy James himself on a guided tour.

The place wasn’t 100 percent finished, so there were bits where we had to use our imaginations to envision the finished product.

“This here,” Jimmy James pointing a cigarette, sprinkling ashes along the way, “is going to be the California reds section.” At a flick of his finger, the bar and surrounding lounge chairs were bathed in light. “This here’s sunshine,” he said.

“Isn’t it a little hot under those lights?” Ray asked, looking up at the blinding spotlights. We were ridiculously giggly.

“Yeah. We didn’t think of that before.” Jimmy James shrugged, and then moved on. “And so, you see, we’ve got a sandy area here, to signify the beaches of California, and then there’s that Hollywood sign up there.” He gestured above, and Ray and I were blinded as we strained to catch a glimpse.

Behind Jimmy James’s back, Ray and I blinked madly, covering up laughs with coughs. It felt good to be so light. We bonded by being on the outside of someone else’s crazy problems, rather than dealing with our own.

We turned and corner and Jimmy James said, “We’re going to fix that sign, too, because you can probably see they spelled Hollywood with just one l.

“This here’s gonna be Disneyworld . . . you know, in Florida.” We followed and something palpable had been left behind as a residue of the laughter. There was a glow of it around Ray and me. I couldn’t help but think about our Thanksgiving call.

Now, I felt that frisson again. I looked to Ray and tried to see something there that said, yes! Okay! He feels the same, so proceed! All I got was the murky green of his eye and a faint smile that could have meant anything. He turned his gaze to my hand and then took hold of it, a shock of current flowing between us, lodged, finally, in a knot at my throat.

Jimmy James led us while we held hands, two jerky teenagers, unsure but searching, trying this on for size.

“And this is Italy. That Prada sign is actually being remade because they spelled it Preda.”

We’d gone from California to Italy, and inside it felt as if we’d taken an equally long journey—or started one, at least, after an eternal warmup.

In Spain we stopped to admire a plaster matador and Ray squeezed real tight and looked at me, biting his bottom lip. There was something so thick between us I could almost grab a handful.

With David, I’d been flattered, attracted, and I enjoyed his company. But it wasn’t like this. And with the history Ray and I share, our memories and friendship, the way we know each other . . . how could it have ever been like this with David?

The tour seemed to go on forever. “I feel like we’ve been around the world,” Ray joked in the Chilean hot springs of the Big North.

“We have.” How different Ray looked with that determined look, the bit of fear, too, as if, for once, he’d let his guard down, and part of his well-being was in my hands.

Jimmy James went on, and having zoned out, I aha’d when I thought appropriate.

“I’m sorry, so you don’t understand that I can’t take you through the Washington State area because there’s no floor yet?”

Jimmy James turned and regarded me and Ray. “Boy, you guys are really in love, aren’t you?” he said. “I wish I had something like that for myself.”

We’d reached the VIP room, dedicated to New York State wines, which I thought was a nice touch.

“This is where I leave you,” Jimmy James said. “You enjoy your meal and international beverages and write us up a fabulous review.”

We thanked him and sat down in a booth with a nice view of the World’s faux Empire State Building (with a broken needle) and Statue of Liberty (cracked torch).

Alone, Ray and I were Doris Day and Cary Grant. We laughed for no reason at all. We were having an old-fashioned romance with plenty of star crossing. I watched him hold my hand, fan our fingers, then cross them—the silent movie of our beginning. If I could do things right, maybe this just might work out for us, I thought, like a child stepping over sidewalk cracks, in hope of controlling her fate.

A waitress brought a tray of five tasting sized glasses of New York Wines to sample. Ray passed the first one to me, and it tasted a little bitter. I passed it back and saw his lips were where mine had just been, and I wanted so badly to kiss him.

In that second, I knew I had to break things off with David because though he was just the sort of man I thought I wanted—a wonderful man to take care of me—I wasn’t that same girl anymore, and besides, I was not in love with him, I was not this radiant thing I was now. I would feel terrible, hurting him. But something had changed in me, and now I wanted an equal, and more than that, I realized he’d been there all along. Strangely, though, David had been the one to stir up the feelings between Ray and me. If I hadn’t met him, if I hadn’t had a relationship with him at this particular juncture in my life, Ray and I might never have gotten here.

I was going to do things right. I was going to wait. I owed David at least that.

“Ha!” Ray and I heard the shrill voice like an evacuation siren and both jumped, causing his arm to knock the red wine onto my shirt. I yelped. There were lots of napkins at my chest and then I looked up, and there was Miss Jackson.

“Don’t you mean Nasty?” Her whole body seemed to thunder with the word. Christopher was making his way from across the room. He was a good-looking man, but was he worth all she’d done for him? “I saw the two of you fooling around. And don’t you think I’m not going to use that piece of information!”

Christopher approached. “Oh, sweetheart, there you are,” she said, her voice shifting drastically. “Meet my friends here, Anna Walker of Velvet Rope Diaries, you remember her, don’t you, the one who humiliated me, dear? And this is, I don’t know, who are you, darling?” she asked Ray.

“I’m Ray,” he said. “And we weren’t doing anything. I don’t know what you think you saw.”

“Oh don’t you worry about a thing,” she said and stormed away. Christopher lingered.

“I’m sorry guys,” he said, his thumbs hooked through his belt loop. “That article really hurt her. She used to be fat when she was young, and she has this . . . this hang-up about looks now. Though I know it’s difficult to see it, she does have a good side. I just thought you should know that,” he said, like an old-fashioned knight, clearing a maiden’s name.

“But, Anna, don’t let this change anything. You tried to apologize. You did everything you could to make it right, and she’s still out for revenge.”

“I know. And as uncomfortable as it is, I’ve started to cope with the reality that I’ve hurt her. Still, I need to protect myself.” Though this undeniably added a complicated layer to my already existing neuroses, the coping technique was the same. If I could continue on through the discomfort, then I knew I really would be all right, and that, for once, felt more important than giving into the need to feel better. I couldn’t change course because she might be as messed up as I was, or she’d fry me for breakfast.

“Be more careful to tell the truth in my column, so that David gets the respect he deserves.”

Though he winced at the name, Ray nodded gravely. “It’s the right thing to do.”

“Oh yes. Definitely. Very grave. Very grave indeed. But excellent journalism! Stellar.”

“Okay, okay. You’re hurt. Here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to tell that wanker, Joseph, to give you a mention on the cover this week.” As deputy editor, Joseph normally had free reign over those decisions. I had a feeling he wasn’t going to like this. Despite all those terrible things he’d been up to, I still felt bad that his pages had been cut in half to make room for mine . . . and even worse when his page then lost a bit on top, too, to make room for my overflow. I was going to let the worries “hang out,” to use a Fenwick line, and continue on with what needed to be done.

I was about two feet from his door when Ed called me back. “Good job, Anna, fooling around behind your boyfriend’s back. I almost forgot we are going to run the little “Seen At” bit about you sucking face with your roommate in Joe Says, right alongside your ‘I’m a little innocent’ column. It’ll be a sort of double feature.” He laughed wickedly, and I thought perhaps my own hair turned white. “Excellent journalism. Honestly—you might have what it takes, after all.”

“I am innocent,” I barked. This was treacherous. I hadn’t done anything wrong this time around. I’d purposely waited so that my relationship with Ray wouldn’t start off on the wrong foot so I wouldn’t hurt David. I’d tried to do the right thing. And if I wanted to salvage any of that, now I’d have to at least break the news to David Levy before the column came out. Whether he’d believe my version was another story.

We met at Googie’s, a sort of diner spot on Third Avenue. David was quite tan.

This would be the first time in my life that I was the breaker-upper. Despite what I’d assumed, it was the opposite of empowering. The second I saw him, I turned into a sheet of paper, flapping frantically in a windstorm, catching on branches and beneath shoes, swirling endlessly: had I missed him? Had I somehow misunderstood myself?

He kissed me at my hairline, as he always did by way of greeting. I felt like an impossible phony. He led me to the seat, and I felt my stomach churn. No matter what I did, I was going to hurt him. The old Anna would have told herself, never mind, you do whatever it takes not to hurt this boy; otherwise how will you deal with the guilt? But I reminded myself that my life was at stake here and that I could easily slip back into that behavior.

“I’ll have a Coke,” he said, “And she’ll take an unsweetened iced tea with lemon, please.” It wasn’t right that he should care to know that kind of thing about me when I was about to hurt him. I was overcome with hesitation. I longed to pull the pages from the printing press and yell, “Wait!” What if I’d made a terrible decision? What if this thing with Ray didn’t work out? What if his feelings really were just jealousy? Once I broke it off with David, would Ray lose interest? Here was someone who knew how I took my iced tea and I was about to toss him to the wayside. Suddenly everything was stuffed with significance.

We scanned the menus in silence. “Oooh, there’s mushroom barley soup today,” he said.

“Nice,” I said though I couldn’t imagine such enthusiasm over mushroom barley. Even this, I could take as a sign: yes, you’re doing the right thing.

Eventually, I ordered the chicken salad on wheat, and he asked for the BLT club. Just then, to me, those sounded like the saddest lunches on earth.

I wasn’t beautiful! I was a mean, horrible girl who caught you up in my web of confusion and anxieties, a moron who was probably passing up the best thing that had ever happened to her . . . for someone I had zero reasons to believe things would work out with.

I must have seemed awkward, my knee bopping and hands gingering my fringy hair compulsively.

“I don’t like the sound of that something.” He smiled at first like maybe I was going to say I had to get back to work quicker than I’d expected, but when my face fell, his followed, and his joke died halfway out.

Now David fiddled, with his straw wrapper, twisting it as if it was the one thing he could think to do.

A worn-out truck tutt-tutted by. I thought of the way we’d met in the dark, the fantastic moment when he’d clapped the lights on, the mstery and excitement that had led to our first kiss. He’d saved me that first night, and I’d never stopped looking at him in that light.

“David, I can’t tell you how wonderful these three months have been for me.”

“Anna.” He grabbed for my hand. “Don’t break up with me. Please don’t break up with me. You are the most real girl I’ve ever dated. Even my sister loves you. And my sister doesn’t love anyone. No screw that. I don’t care about my sister. I love you. I want to care for you and love you and . . .” He didn’t finish, but he’d made himself painfully clear.

I wanted to say, “Okay, forget it. Just kidding! Hang that strong, safe arm around me. And do you mind if I have your pickle?” But instead, I swallowed back the round of tears I felt heating my face and eyes. It was my turn to speak, and I owed it to him to find the truth. “David, it’s just that I’ve been discovering a lot about myself lately. And, along with that, I guess, I’ve worked out that I’ve loved someone who’s been in my life all along.”

“Oh, please don’t tell me it’s Ray! Anyone but him!” A few people turned to stare.

“It is. I knew it I freaking knew it. How can you trust him? You yourself told me how many girls he’s screwed over.” He sat back and gazed at the ceiling, blinking. He was angry, hurt, and right. It sounded even more terrifying coming from someone else. His lip jerked as if it were about to quiver, and then he bit it down, hard.

“I’m so sorry, David. You are the most wonderful person I’ve ever had a relationship with. And you’re so caring and warm.” I was so bad at this. There were no words that fit. I fought back the urge to cry. I wanted to touch his arm, but I sensed that would be worse. He didn’t want pity. He wanted to be with me and care for me, and terrifyingly, I was turning this away for the unknown, insecure chance to be with Ray.

“Please don’t. Just don’t say anything else, Anna. I know you’re not mean, and you’re doing the right thing if you’re in love with that moron—God help you, by the way—but I just can’t take another word of it.”

I still had to tell him the worst part. “And David, the gossip column is going to print something about it. I just wanted you to know I didn’t cheat on you. I never did the things they are going to say.”

“Oh, well in that case, everything’s just peachy, isn’t it?” Then David left, his coat over his arm, the hem dragging along the floor.

I was sitting in the booth alone when the waiter came with the big plate and asked, “BLT club?” like I was supposed to have an answer to that.

The walk back to the office was dreadful. I felt exposed and alone as ever. At every corner, I half expected to be mugged or hit by a taxi.

Yesterday, Fenwick had leaned back, with his own daughter framed safely on his desk, in contrast to my tetherlessness, and said, “The truth is, we’re all vulnerable—even people who have fathers. As scary as that might seem to you, if you make peace with that, you’ll stop looking for safety in places that are merely illusions. And you’ll realize that you can and do take care of yourself.”

I straightened myself against the wind and tried to believe I hadn’t just made the second biggest mistake of my life.

I was reminded of a line from one of those elementary school fire safety books that had stayed with me, as deeply metaphoric: “Stay low to the ground if you are caught in a fire. Crawl out on your hands and knees.”

Well, here I was caught. And I couldn’t get any lower if I tried. But, in the moment, knowledge of the right thing to do could only get you so far.

I meandered slowly back to work, circling blocks and stopping at a bench to catch my breath. When I made it to the building I walked right into Nasty’s office, where across from her, Joseph was perched, like a pigeon in need of dental attention, on her guest chair.

“You’ve hurt me now,” I said. “Done. Are you happy now? Are you done now?”

“Oh yes. Yes, we are completely done now,” Nasty said. “You don’t have to worry about us. We’re even Steven.”

I dialed Ray’s work number. “Hi, this is Ray Right from Trading. If you’re not buying something, I’m not going to call you back.”

“I’m not buying anything,” I said, reddened, then gathered my things and made my way toward the door.

“Good night,” the receptionist said, proof that things had changed. Trouble was, a whole new host of problems had set in.

“Would you like violet with apricot kernel, or cocoa with shea butter?” my aesthetician Martha wanted to know.

“You’d better ask my boss over there,” I replied, nodding to Nina, whose massage table was next to mine. Nina and Susan had just signed the mortgage on the spa space, and already they had an interior designer and architect putting together the look of it. These were dynamic times for us all. I always knew Nina would accomplish her dream someday, but her struggle toward it had become part of our lives.

“She’ll have the apricot.” Now there was a woman who knew what she wanted, not like me who was sure she wanted one thing, then realized she was in love with her roommate, so let that first thing go, and now worried she might’ve ruined everything.

“So you broke things off with one of the wealthiest men in New York for regular old Ray.”

She shook her head, but it was obvious she approved. “You must really love him. All these years. I can’t believe it took you two so long.”

“Well, we’re not really ‘together’,” I said, feeling panicky. I mean, I just broke up with my boyfriend and Ray and I hadn’t discussed one thing! Given his track record, this could be very, very bad.

“I wouldn’t worry about the technicalities. It’s pretty clear he’s been in love with you forever. I remember one party back in sophomore year, homecoming. He was so drunk, and you were talking with that dorky Sam whoever-his-pants from the math department.”

“Sam Slessinger. He was the only guy I hooked up with my first two years in college.” He’d been a horrific nerd, but I liked that about him. I liked that maybe I saw something in him that other people couldn’t.

“Yeah well, Ray was almost crying. And I was like, ‘Ray, you hooked up with a different girl every night this week.’ And he was like, ‘Well, I’m just wasting time until she’s ready.’”

Forty-five minutes into our massages, Nina said, “Oh yeah, and I got engaged this morning.”

“Bernard asked me to marry him. And I said yes. You’ll be wearing salmon in April. But you already knew that.”

Dr. Fenwick was wearing salmon. The color didn’t look very good on him. I watched as he read my journal, my words at his lips, his dipping and sidestepping, like a Western dance.

“I have.” I was embarrassingly proud of myself, despite the turmoil. Here I was, living—feeling the ups and yes, the downs, too, like an actual, real person. I couldn’t wait for him to tell me to get out and never come back.

“Tell me about being home,” he said and rearranged his legs. It looked, from the ski slopes group shot framed behind him, as if his family were happy. Could this be me one day? Smiling through an adrenaline rush—pink-cheeked and so alive?

“Definitely, it was difficult. But when things came rushing at me, I did what you said, lived with the worst case scenario. And I resisted the urge to try and feel better. I just did . . . whatever it was—helping Mo cook, or being out with Thomas and Kelly. I had a setback on the first night. I went downstairs, and fell into my pattern, playing out my version of what must have happened to my dad, trying to authenticate in my memory the burning smell and the pain he felt and the duration of it all, but I bounced back. And a few times over the weekend, I wasn’t even thinking about it. I mean, I never got to the point where I felt, Lord, I’m cured! I don’t feel guilty at all! Of course none of this was my fault! Nothing like that. It was just that numbness you’d described, but along with that, the ability, in some fashion at least, to be present, and participate in whatever trivial thing was appropriate.”

“Well, I wouldn’t expect you to feel perfect. You’ve been thinking you killed your father for what? Twenty-two years. It’s going to take a while until you truly realize the irrationality of that . . . until it sinks in. And you’re right about the setbacks. There will be those, but the important thing is to accept them and move on. Think of them as minor glitches that are a normal part of the process of staying healthy up there.” He pointed to his head. “Most importantly, don’t dwell on them and say, ‘I knew I couldn’t do this,’ and go back to your old ways. Don’t worry about that, though, if it happens, you’ll deal with it. You are doing fabulously. You’re standing up for yourself, going for what you want, not letting your fears stand in the way of that.”

I really wanted to achieve this, to look at it, like a diploma on my wall, and say, “I did that. It was incredibly difficult, but I succeeded.” Right then, with Nasty and Joseph out to sabotage me, the safety of David gone for good, and the question marks around Ray bolder than ever, I just wanted to button this one thing up neatly. “No?” I wanted to crack into a trillion pieces, looking past him to that photo of him again, that far-off life I wanted for myself, which just then, felt like a toy on a string that would always be yanked just out of reach. I was drawn again to the photo; his daughter had nice, thick ponytails. It looked like maybe she’d inherited Fenwick’s hair gene. It was impossible not to envy daughters with fathers, no matter how pathetic it felt, impossible not to notice where security lent a gleam, a confidence of manner that you could never have.

When I caught his gaze, Fenwick’s smile was compassionate. “So what else is going on?”

“Well, is it really so bad? I hurt her first. And I’ve done bad things, too.”

“Yes.” You win Fenwick! I’m not cured, obviously! I tried to sink into a tiny ball that didn’t have to continuously put itself through this.

“So, despite all the strength you’ve been exhibiting, you don’t really feel like you deserve things?”

“Right. You win!” It was petulant, and thankfully, he ignored it. I inspected the Oriental rug, anything to look away from him, who’d seen all the way inside of me.

“Society, I guess.” Ten minutes left. Nine minutes fifty-eight seconds. Nine minutes . . .

I knew where this was going. I knew what I rationally, logically, was meant to say. But, strange as it was, I couldn’t yet fit comfortably into being happy. All the way home from Thanksgiving, all the days after, I searched for that something that was missing, that backroom gore of torture I was so used to. It was the relationship I’d created with my father. “Me.” Always the tears here, always the things I held together so intricately, delicately, my emotional house of cards, always it crashed down in here.

I sat quietly for a minute wanting to hate Fenwick for messing it all up, disturbing the rhythm of everything ticking along.

“What about him?” I wanted to be angry with Fenwick, resist and disagree with him and his efficient techniques that could have saved me so many lost years if only I’d known. It didn’t feel fair that after all that time, suddenly, he came over and said, “Oh, this is the simplest thing to fix.” All the college test papers whose real print morphed into the compact version of my narrative, “I heard his voice, and I ran down the stairs. The smoke worse than the flames. My shoelace on fire. Basement door gone, and the licks at my face, hotter than anything. I could have gone down into that, but I ran away.” And in turn, the low marks and the questions: it seems like you didn’t even read the test. Are you concentrating? Maybe this subject’s too difficult for you. And it shouldn’t have been. But merely running a brush through my hair was too difficult most days.

I want you to realize that you’ve changed immensely, quite rapidly. And now you’ve reclaimed so much of yourself, you may be surprised at the kinds of complications these assertive actions have. Of course, they are never as bad as the complications of inertia, but they will arise, and you’ll have to be on guard. Prepare yourself.”

“You don’t think it will work out with Ray?” All I needed was another skeptic, especially with Ray completely missing since yesterday afternoon when I broke things off with David. The whole thing was quite obviously doomed. Why did people keep presenting me with choices when all I seemed to do was screw them up?

“No, I’m not saying that. All I’m saying is that you need to be prepared for anything.”

“Okay,” I said, rolling my eyes like a bratty teenager, convincing myself that Fenwick just didn’t know us. “I’ll take the train out to Queens to buy an emergency kit from Target.”

Fenwick frowned. “Anna, I know it doesn’t feel good right now. But trust me. Eventually, it will. You just keep working at everything as you are. Don’t look to feel good.”

At home I waited up for Ray as long as I could, busying myself counting fire engine sirens, my blanket in my fists until my eyes drooped. It had been a long day. It was a busy night for fires. Twenty-seven. He must have arrived after I fell asleep.

The wet towel Ray left hanging on the back of the bathroom door, the only evidence I had that he’d been there at all, was salmon colored. Were we all just a bunch of fish, swimming around aimlessly until we possibly might bump into something good?

Belinda, Judy, and I met up at Farluck’s for an emergency meeting. Juan, the barrister, and I short our espressos, and then I sat with the girls and a latte.

“I thought we were past all that crap! Anna made the front page today,” Judy said.

She leaned in. “Well, remember I said that the second time around, Ed was very strange about the reasons why he let Joseph slide?”

“You’re not going to believe this. Or maybe you will. I’m not sure. Hmmm.”

“Oh, sorry.” She wasn’t. “Joseph was looking for Ed’s psychic’s business card.”

I searched the far corners of my mind, but couldn’t make sense of it. “What does this mean?”

“I put the puzzle pieces together this morning. Ed called me in early, frantic. He said Rima’s card was missing from his private Rolodex and did I know anything about it?”

“Yes! And so I reminded him of the situation with Joseph, and he called Rima, and, after I connected him, I stayed on the line to listen in. She said that no, Joseph hadn’t called. She said he should keep Joseph on at New York, New York, that his own future depended on it, and that he should come in to meet with her in two days. She had vital information about the future of the newspaper. She refused to say anything more, except that he knows better than to call her between appointments, and that he should mail her a check for two-hundred-fifty dollars for an unscheduled appointment.”

“I bet Joseph went there and paid her to say that!” I exclaimed. “I’ve got to visit her and find out for myself.”

Belinda reached deep into her cleavage and pulled out a pink note card with Rima’s details. “Great minds think alike. I’m coming with.”

“Then I get fired,” she said though I knew she was terrified of the possibility.

When I finally settled at my computer, the day only got worse. My instant messenger popped up; it was Ray.

Rayishotbaby: just wanted to let you know I’m leaving for DC for a few days for work.

Thursday? Work thing, my ass. I knew it! I knew he would grow bored of me as soon as he could have me! Had I not predicted this exact thing? With nothing more to stand in my way, I unrolled my copy of New York, New York and surveyed the damage.

On the cover was a picture of Ray and me in that booth holding hands. And it looked bad. It really did.

Inside, my column was the truth, and I knew it, but it still looked terrible, with the pictures they’d used to accompany it—a close-up of our interlocked fingers as we followed Jimmy James, and a far-off shot of our close faces framed in a heart. On the other side of the spread was Joe Says.

Joe says New York, New York’s own Anna Walker needs to learn a thing or two about honesty and respect. She was spied at the opening of World, canoodling with none other than her roommate, Ray Right, despite the fact that she has been exclusively dating David Levy, brother of bitter divorcée Susan Levy-Scrip. Well, that’s two dumped, two-timed siblings, apparently. Word is Anna connected Levy-Scrimp with friend Nana Patterson in a business deal to open a spa called Susan & Nana’s, which will celebrate its grand opening after the new year.

The room spun as I considered this horrible trash. I read it again. Wait a minute. Wait a minute! The only person who calls Nina ‘Nana’ is Susan!

“Honey, please don’t apologize. I know you didn’t want that smut printed. David knows that, too. I just got off the phone with him, and he felt really bad for you. He said you were a good person and didn’t deserve this when all you were doing was being true to yourself. But I’m sleeping with this yogi, Shakti, or something like that, and what he always says is that you have to turn a negative into a positive, and so that is why I took the chance to publicize the spa, dear . . .”

I wasn’t so sure publicity is what Shakti had in mind, but she went on and on about it anyway. I was so relieved to hear what she’d said about David, I barely know what she said next. Thank god for little miracles. I got the weirdest feeling thinking that—something Dad used to say. Thank god for little miracles, I got the car working, it’s a sunny day, Anna Banana remembered to bring home all her books today.

“Is this Rima Vimley?” I whispered into my cell phone. I was hiding behind a tree by Sheep’s Meadow, from whom, I’m not quite sure; Belinda had her ear shoved in next to mine.

She didn’t let me finish. “Ah yes, Anna. I figured I’d be hearing from you. You come in Monday. Bring fifty dollars cash.”

She hung up and Belinda and I stared at each other, wide-eyed. “What the hell have we gotten ourselves into, Child?”