“I . . . When are you going?”
“I just said. Tomorrow.”
Dana held up the wine bottle and gestured to my nearly empty glass. I held up two fingers and mouthed, Wait two minutes. A dark look entered Dana’s features. She turned her back on me and poured the rest of the wine into her own glass. She hit play.
I went into the adjoining room. “Can I think about it? I’ve got some work that—”
“There’s no time, Ellie. And what’s to think about? Vegas, you, me. A couple of nights on the town gambling. I need a yea or nay right now, so Gertrude, who’s handling the reservations, can ensure us seats together on the plane.”
“Ellie!” Dana yelled. “Do you want to watch the end of this movie or not?”
Tension tightened. I was not good at decisions on the fly. I preferred to think things through ad nauseam.
“Yes or no?” Martin pressed. “I’d fly into YVR on the red-eye—be there early tomorrow morning. Gertrude is holding us seats together for the Vancouver–Vegas leg. I need to tell her either way stat.”
I ran my hand over my hair. “You’ve booked already? For me?”
“Sort of. Hedging bets. You can always say no and she’d cancel.”
My mind spun. I could do my concept sketches while in Vegas. And if I put in a few extra hours when I returned . . . I could pull off my deadlines.
“Yes or no? I’ve got a call coming in from our Indonesia sales office, and I need to take it. If—”
“Yes.”
A beat of silence. “Yes?”
“Yeah. I’m coming.” Delight burst through me. He’d expected me to say no—I heard it in his voice. I’d surprised him and I loved that. I’d been in a funk. And I craved seeing him like a drug. I relished this feeling of recklessness. Like when we’d had sex in the elevator.
“Oh, I do love you, girl,” he said. “Pack something dressy, sexy. We’re going to live it up, babe. Gertie will be in touch about your tickets. Can’t wait.”
The phone went dead.
I stared at the phone in my hand, a little dazed. I went into the living room. The movie credits were rolling. I plunked myself back down on the sofa beside Dana and reached into the bowl of popcorn.
Dana angled away from me, gulped down the last of her wine, killed the TV, and tossed the remote onto the coffee table. She got up and dusted potato chip and popcorn crumbs off her pants. “I’ve got work tomorrow. I need to go.” She fetched her purse from a barstool at the kitchen counter and padded on her socked feet into the hallway. She reached for her coat hanging near the door.
“Dana—”
“Don’t.” She punched her arms into her sleeves and grabbed her boots. “Do not Dana me—you couldn’t call him back?” She sat on the bench and shoved her feet into her boots. “Just once, Ellie? Does this Martin guy have so much pull over you that you can’t enjoy a date with your girlfriend—your oldest friend? The one who hung around for you when you were at your very lowest?” She came to her feet and reached for her woolen hat.
“Oh, come on, Dana. You can’t possibly resent my relationship with him. Do you? After all I went through with Doug and—”
“I resent being treated like a doormat and shunted aside for a rich prick.”
“Christ, he’s not a prick.”
Her gaze locked on to mine. I saw hesitation in her features. Her eyes softened, but just a little. “Ellie, you’re vulnerable right now. You’re just getting back onto your feet. You shouldn’t make any huge commitments.”
“It’s not a commitment.”
She regarded me. “What did he want this time that couldn’t wait?”
I felt my cheeks heat. “He wanted to know if I’d join him in Vegas.”
“And that couldn’t wait like one second?”
“The flight is early tomorrow morning.”
She blinked. “He booked you a flight before asking?”
“He’s got a high-powered and fast-moving job, Dana. He’s just that kind of guy.”
“Like your father? Like Doug?”
My face began to burn. Anger rushed softly into my chest.
“You’ve barely gotten back from Europe and the Cook Islands. What about your new contract?”
“I’ll manage.”
She buttoned her coat. “Everything is always on his terms, have you noticed that? And he’s isolating you from everyone, including me. He’s monopolizing all your time. He goes all out, spends every minute with you, then he pulls back and disappears and makes you pine for him. Then just when you’re getting really desperate to be with him, he clicks his fingers like this”—she drunkenly snapped her fingers—“and you drop everyone, come running. Like a puppy dog. He forces you to make a snap decision to commit to being exclusively with him in some distant locale, no time to think or even call him back?”
“I’m the one who chooses to be with him, Dana. He’s not forcing me to do anything.”
She stared. “Really? So you chose to speak to him during the rest of the movie, during a time I had set aside to spend with you? What am I? Some . . . some old toy that you take out of a box for amusement and then drop when something better and shinier comes along?” She reached for the door handle, but then swung back to face me. “I canceled a prior arrangement to hook up with you, you know that? Do you not see . . . Wait—never mind. I’m not looking for sympathy. Just—just don’t bother to ask me over again unless you actually want to spend time with me, okay? I’ve got a life, too, you know. I’m not some piece of shit you can just walk all over.” She reached for the door handle.
“Dana, that’s bitter.”
“Yeah, whatever.” She opened the door, stumbling slightly. She’d had more wine than I’d thought. That was all this was—just the booze talking.
“How are you getting home?” I asked.
“Fuck off,” she muttered.
“Excuse me?”
She barked a small laugh but had a sad look in her eyes, like she wanted to cry—Dana did that
