“What the fuck was that unfounded bullshit?” Nina said, pulling out her phone and typing furiously. “I’m texting my associates, and my driver is on his way. We’re going to the Makers Bar.”
A few minutes later, they were ensconced in a circular booth. A waiter in black jeans and a black button-down glided over to their table.
“Champagne or martinis?” he asked Nina.
“Martinis.”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Hashim.”
“One of those days,” Nina said. Behind her breezy tone, Kia heard something ominous.
“Are we fucked?” Sullivan asked.
“Well.”
No one wanted to hearwellin response toare we fucked.
Over drinks and a charcuterie board no one ate, Nina talked, and Sullivan asked questions. Nina was going to ask for a new judge. There was no way the judge should have let the case go to trial.
“Totally sus!” Nina commented. “That’s a legal term. One other thing,” Nina said as she closed the vintage cigar box that held the bill and pushed it to the edge of the table. “I’m sorry about this, Sullivan. You two should get on Kia’s social media. Be cute.” Nina rolled her eyes like she couldn’t imagine what that might look like. “I am so sorry this didn’t go our way, and I’m going to prove that this should never have gone to trial. The case Mulroney cited is so distinguishable. But in the meantime, just in case, let’s get you all over the internet serving serious love vibes.”
Poor Sullivan. She hated social media enough that Opal, her jolly rugby coach friend, was ready to throw down over it.
“It’s off-brand,” Kia blurted. “I mean Sullivan is. We are. I can’t cook tursnicken with Chef Mirepoix.”
Sullivan looked like a soufflé that had deflated down to its base ingredients: an omelet. A sad omelet.
“It’s not that you wouldn’t look great on Kia Gourmazing,” Kia added quickly. “You were the hottest woman in our class.”
“I was the only other woman in our class.” Sullivan’s sigh carried every word in the sentence.
Kia couldn’t let Sullivan think she didn’t want her on Kia Gourmazing because she wasn’t good enough, cool enough, hot enough.
“I still had a massive crush on you when we were in school.” Kia let out a manic laugh. “I mean, not for real, but I could have. Look at you. Who wouldn’t?”
Nina looked back and forth between them, eyes narrowed.
“I don’t care if marrying Sullivan is off-brand,” she said. “Put some glitter on her and make it work.”
Kia held it together until the second call and fourth text to Lillian. Now she sat cross-legged on her bed—Sullivan’s guest bed—her phone clutched in her hands. It was late afternoon in Oregon, which meant the middle of the night in Paris, so it wasn’t fair to expect Lillian to answer, but before Izzy, Lillian would have. Before Izzy, Lillian had had a sixth sense for when Kia needed her. Before Izzy, Lillian just danced and talked on the phone with her best friend/cousin wherever Kia was and however mismatched their time zones. Kia tried one more time.
Kia:You awake?
Nothing. Kia counted to twenty, then fifty. It was too much. She was supposed to be filming a promo for August Harvest granola, spontaneously working in the phrasecrunches like summer. Gretchen would have her ass if she was late. She had to call Gretchen and tell her what had happened. Gretchen would show her love by immediately outlining a damage-control publicity plan, with a dose of cautionary tales about clients who ruined their brands and went broke. And Me’Shell was getting to Portland tomorrow, ready to help Kia plan Taste the Love Land, and there was no love and no land, and Sullivan wanted her out of the house, and now she couldn’t leave because it’d look like they weren’t in love, and she had been secretly crushing on Sullivan since she was twenty, and Sullivan had every reason toexactlyhate her. Kia was about to lose everything. No woman would ever love her. She’d die alone and she wouldn’t even have her father’s good sense to buy a dozen spaniels. She rounded herself into a ball, her phone clutched in her lap, her arms wrapped around her knees, and burst into tears.
She didn’t hear the door open. She only realized Sullivan was there when Sullivan put her arms around her.
“It sucks,” Sullivan said, rocking her gently. “All of this.”
Her words and her embrace made Kia cry harder.
“This is all my fault.” Kia tried to catch her breath.
“Technically yes,” Sullivan said without any anger in her voice. “But also no.”
Kia could feel Sullivan shake her head.
“You were trying to start a business. I own a business. I can’t come at you like you were trying to burn down my house.”