“I still feel used,” I joke.
“Like I said, get used to it.”
He gives me the details for tonight before hanging up.
I put an upbeat playlist on and crack down on my work for the day, doing my best to feel as psyched as I should be. Paige emerges from her lair while I’m making pasta for dinner a couple hours later, and she accepts my invitation to have some. She seems genuinely excited when our small talk leads to me telling her about the six grand, and my mouth nearly falls off my face in shock when she gets up after we’ve finished our pasta and asks if I’d like an ice cream sandwich.
“Do I really deserve that honor? It’s only six grand.”
She treats her ice cream like it’s worth double that.
“I’m not giving you an ice cream sandwich because of your accomplishments,” she says like it should be obvious. She pushes up the sleeves of her hoodie and pulls the box out of the freezer. “I’m giving it to you because you just made more money than you’ve ever made before, and you still look so fucking sad.”
Well then.
“So this is a pity offering?”
“It’s a ‘get on with your life’ offering.”
I make a show out of wincing. “Wow. Ouch, Paige”
“Just telling it like it is.” She shrugs as she hands me the sandwich. “You’re too smart to sit around waiting for things to change or fix themselves.”
“You sound like a very wise fortune cookie.”
“Hey!” She glowers at me. “Just because I’m half Asian!”
“Oh, shit. Right. Uh, I didn’t mean—”
She starts chuckling. “Got you.”
“Oh, whew.” I pretend to wipe some sweat off my forehead. “I actuallyamleaving the house tonight. I’m hanging out with Dylan and Renee from the bar. One of Renee’s friends is coming, and it isnota double date.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Uh, okay.”
I feel my face flush. “I just, uh, I don’t want anyone to think that I’m...”
“Moving on?” She doesn’t let me answer. “I like DeeDee as much as the next person, but…it’s like I said: you can’t sit around waiting for things to fix themselves.”
And with that, she disappears as quickly as she arrived, fading away into the black hole of shadow and mystery and EDM that is her room.
I keep her words in mind the whole way over to the bar in the Quartier des Spectacles Dylan gave me the name of. The streets are crawling with people enjoying the warm evening, wandering the sidewalks and sipping drinks on patios. I find Dylan, Renee, and the third wheeling friend seated on one of said patios, string lights draped over the table and a big pitcher of what seems to be sangria sitting between all three of them.
“Zach!” Renee calls out.
Greetings and introductions get made all around. Even in my apparently evident state of moping, I can admit that Renee’s friend, Salma, is pretty—stunning, even, with billboard model cheekbones and jet black hair so straight and shiny that the light from the bulbs overhead makes her look like she’s shimmering every time she moves. The only empty seat is right next to her. I settle myself in the chair as Dylan pours me a glass from the pitcher.
“I thought you requested beer for tonight,” I remind him.
“Change of plans. The girls wanted to be festive.”
“We have to make the most of this warmth,” Renee defends herself. “I refuse to drink sangria in the winter.”
That’s Montrealers for you: already thinking of the winter ahead when it’s only the beginning of June.
During the first few minutes of conversation, I learn the movie we’re going to is a tiny independent screening put on by a club Salma’s in at school.
“It’s about Persian heritage in North America,” she explains, “which I know probably sounds like it’s going to be some stuffy documentary, but it’s actually really funny and unique. It was up for best foreign film at the Oscars this year. I’ve seen it four times already.”
