“That’s good,” I say.
“Surprise,” someone says behind us.
All three of us turn and see that it’s Lily and Rupert, looking dashing in formal wear.We all exchange hugs.
“We were in the neighborhood,” Lily says.“I was hoping we’d still catch you here, especially because I found this book that the library had put on the discard cart.”Lily is a librarian at the St.Agnes Library on the Upper West Side.“It’s about the establishment of the initial Infrastructure Department.You should ask the deputy commissioners to sign it when you interview them.It would be a great souvenir of your article.”
“And she hates to see a book in the discard bin,” Rupert says.
“Just because it hasn’t been checked out in five years,” Lily says.“I want it to find a good home.”
Rupert leaves to buy us all a round of drinks as Lily squeezes in next to Bella.
“What are we discussing?”Lily asks.
“Whether Maddie should date Nick,” Bella says.
“I vote yes,” Lily says.“I’m still grateful to him for playing at the Oasis Community Garden benefit last spring.”
“I’m outvoted,” Iris says with a sigh.Then she stills.“But Maddie, you can’t look at the comments on social media posts.No matter what, there will be fans whohateyou.That fan will think that she should be the one dating Nick.I had to deal with that whenever a photo of me with the band was posted.They can tear you apart.Will you be okay with that?”
“I don’t know,” I say honestly.“I am worried about that.It’s hard to resist looking at the comments.I’ll have to take a page from Riley’s playbook.”In my article last year about Riley, who’d created a national campaign to stop bullying, she’d explained how she took a break from social media and changed all her settings to private.
“I couldn’t help looking at the comments either, but eventually I had to stop,” Iris says.“But if Nick actually makes it, it will be even worse than anything I experienced.”
“Remember, we’ll break up before he becomes a big deal,” I say.
“If you’re doing this—which I don’t recommend, but okay—make sure he has to be your date for that press panel,” Iris says.“And it should be reported that you broke it off, not him.”
“He’s never going to agree to that,” I say.
“He might,” Iris says.“Then he can write lots of songs about being brokenhearted and betrayed.”
“Great,” I say sarcastically.
Chapter eight
Nick
Themoodinmyapartment is the definition of glum.It’s like a blanket of hot air has weighed down everyone in the room.The hiss of steam piping in from the corner radiator is the only thing that fills the silence.
Amira is sitting at my small dining table with her laptop, trying to rustle up some positive PR, but mostly she’s staring at her phone as if willing it to ring.
José alternates between restlessly tapping out some rhythm on the table and texting with his wife, because every once in a while, his mouth tilts up in a smile.Both reviewed all their phone contacts for suggestions of anyone else I could date, but I couldn’t see myself dating the women they suggested—even if just fake dating.
No response from Maddie.Really?
I shake my head and focus on the last line of lyrics I wrote:
I thought you were my friend…
That’s so not original.I cross it out.
Even José thought this proposal was going to work.At least he’s not rubbing my “She’s going tolovethis contract” in my face.
Meanwhile, MusEn seems to have disappeared off the face of the earth.So much for “we want to wrap this up quickly.”
“I cover the story.I’m not the story.”That seems to be her main objection.
