Tatiana silently nodded her agreement.
“OK,” said Dionne, standing up. “Forget that idea. Let’s just hope we can come up with something better in the next forty-eight hours or we’ll have three dead bodies to feel sad about.”
“Look, Dionne,” said Joy. “I’m just saying …”
But Dionne walked out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
Nobody said anything for quite some time.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
God, the stars really were something. Dionne sat on the recliner and stared up into oblivion. She’d been in Brooklyn so long, where the light pollution meant you never really saw the night sky in its true form, that she’d all but forgotten what it really looked like. Out here, though, in the middle of the desert, there was nothing for miles around. It was incredible. All those poor, deluded people up the road in Las Vegas, looking to the skies for spaceships and the meaning of life. Couldn’t they see how incredible it was on its own?
She pulled a blanket tightly around her and took another swig of the tequila. Jeez, the stuff tasted like cleaning fluid. She checked the label again, just to make absolutely certain it wasn’t. She’d found it hidden at the back of a cupboard in the kitchen. She had a suspicion it was Sister Teresa’s.
After spending a couple of fruitless hours pacing around her bedroom, she’d found the booze and headed up here to the roof. Ostensibly it was to try to clear her head, but who was she kidding? She was going to get drunk and have a damn good wallow. Annoyingly, despite having downed more than half the bottle of appalling tequila, she still felt remarkably sober. It was as if the cloak of failure enveloping her was dampening the effect of the alcohol. Like it wouldn’t grant her any escape.
The meeting earlier that evening had gone badly. She couldn’t stay annoyed at Joy, not least because she knew she’d been right. Running out of options, the old Dionne – the one she liked to believe was dead and buried – had come flooding back. What’s that? You’ve found some true human misery? Well, let’s see if we can’t use it to our advantage and ignore the consequences. Let’s take a drowning man and keep our foot on his head until he does what we ask or dies trying.
Nobody really changes. Even after all she’d been through, she was still the same person she’d always been. She’d just been pretending long enough that she’d started to believe her own bullshit.
She took another swig, spilling some dribbles down her chin.
Deep down she was still the same person who’d come up with the Celestial Church of New Hope. The thing was a money-making machine. Maybe that’s what was going on – was she jealous? Was she only kidding herself that she was horrified at the thought of all those suckers getting ripped off? Maybe she was just annoyed that Freddie had gone for it. Everybody has ideas, but only a rare few have the balls to put them into action. Here she was, pissed off because her ex-idea and her ex-partner had hooked up and were making sweet music together. Freddie was just being Freddie – she was the one who was being a hypocrite. Pretending to be something she wasn’t.
“Dionne.”
Dionne leaned out of her sun lounger to look behind her. “Zoya? Is that you?”
She could see her friend about twelve feet away, crouching nervously in the doorway to the roof.
“Zoya!” exclaimed Dionne, holding up the bottle. “You’re outside! Well, almost. Yay! Good for you.”
“Thanks,” Zoya said, looking around nervously, as if she were expecting to take sniper fire. “Are you OK?”
“I am wonderful, thank you so much for asking. I’ve got the sky, some tequila, a blanket. Life is good!”
“You’ve been out here a while. I was worried about you.”
“Me?” said Dionne. “You don’t need to worry about me. I’m fine. Better than fine. I’m … What’s a word for better than fine? Anyway, I’m that.”
“You’re drunk.”
“Ohhh,” said Dionne, “busted! Don’t tell Dorothy, I might get into trouble.” She took another swig. “Besides, I’m pretty sure this stuff has been watered down. I’m sober as a judge.” She stopped. “Wait a second – where’d that phrase come from? Does it even make sense? I do not know.”
“How about you come back inside?”
“No!” Dionne shook her head like a petulant child. It felt wonderful. “How about you come out here and make me? C’mon, come drink with me. Tequila!”
Dionne started humming loudly. Something that was kind of but not really the melody from the tequila song. Halfway through, she looked around to see Zoya crawling on the ground beside her.
“Holy shit.”
“You said to come outside.”
“But I didn’t actually think you would.”
“Yeah, now, will you please come inside?”
“You’re outside.”
“I’m aware of that, thanks, D. What I’d really like to be is not outside!”
“But … you overcame your thing.”
Zoya sat on the ground and started to hyperventilate.
“Oh shit, breathe. Breathe. Breathe.”
“Stop saying breathe. Why do people always say that? Like I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing!”
“Hey. Not for nothing, but you getting pissed off seems to really help with the breathing.”
“You’re a genius. Now, come inside.”
“How come you came outside?”
“Because you’re my friend and I’m worried about you.”
“Admit it, it isn’t that bad out here.”
“I’m mostly ignoring it and focusing entirely on you.”
“Don’t do that.” Dionne waved the bottle in the air. “You should get outside more. There’s a whole world to explore.”
“Thanks. I’ll keep it in mind.”
“And go see that boy.”
“What boy?” asked Zoya.
“The one you’re always chatting with.” Dionne stopped herself. “Or girl. Could be a girl. Nobody cares. But you should go find the thing that makes you happy. Don’t stay here.”
Zoya said nothing for a
