Page 96 of The Lovers
“Warmer, warmer.” I hear Coco’s voice from behind me. She’s talking about my clothes. She’s become a sounding board for my aesthetic evolution, weighing in on how to strike a balance between personal style and professional branding.
She dangles a set of keys in front of my face when I turn around.
I won’t launch my agency for a few more months, but the space in which I will do the launching is still up in the air.
“My friend Hugo owns the space and he’s nottechnicallyshowing it for another month, but if you want to get it premarket price, he’s willing to listen.” The group text, aptly namedDesert Bitches(by Coco, of course), also yielded some leads on studio spaces all over the city, but this is the first one in budget and in my ideal area.
My phone starts to buzz.Zoe.
“We’re waiting,” I say when I answer.
“I’m walking over from the parking garage now,” Zoe says, out of breath. “Do not leave me behind.” I hang up without confirmation.
Zoe won’t quit Love, Always until a month before we launch, but I’m already paying her a small hourly rate to help facilitate all our pregaming. My hope is that by the end of Q2 I can make her salaried and give her a more fitting title than “assistant to the director.”
“Did I tell you that Jenni is dating one of the dudes fromSelling Sunset?”
“There are dudes on that show?” I quip.
She raises her brows. “Exactly.”
“So you’ve officially given up then?” I ask. She doesn’t reply to that, but I really hope—for both of their sakes—that she has. I don’t know what kind of person would make Coco genuinely happy, but Jenni isn’t the person.
“Jesus, she’s going to get hit by a car.” Coco completes her sidestep of my inquiry, focusing instead on watching Zoe dodge a Tesla in the pedestrian walkway.
Zoe has not developed chill even though she now no longer questions her value to me.
She whips an iPad out of her bag and illuminates it before shoving her sunglasses up to hold her hair back. They strain against the pressure.
“Okay, I have our specs for the studio space, so we can compare with this one.” Zoe looks up to see we’re both staring. “I’m here, let’s go.”
Coco chuckles as she opens the door, letting us into a tightstairwell with a large, bright window at the top. The stairs take us up to the studio, an open loft with windows on three sides. It’s a blank canvas except for the functional and attractively designed kitchenette and bathroom. The lack of other walls or décor is both a pro (absolute freedom) and con (there’s nothing existing to build off). I walk the floor as Zoe takes some measurements, dutifully inputting them into the iPad.
I step up to the window, taking in the view of the row of dining and shops on the street below. If I get this place, I’ll have to live and work out of it. My budget does not allow for a separate apartment and my lease is up next month. My parents have agreed to house some of my furniture and extra belongings until I can get a more permanent living space.
“What do you think?” Coco asks. “Knee-jerk reactions only.”
“I want it,” I reply. “But you know Zoe won’t swing for it if she thinks it’s too small.”
“It’s massive,” Coco replies. “You could roller-skate in here. Set up a dance floor and boogie.” Coco does a disco jig to demonstrate.
My stomach twists.
The last time I danced was with Kit at Millie’s wedding. My jaw clenches, but Coco doesn’t seem to notice the tender spot she’s inadvertently pushed on.
“Oh shit!” Zoe exclaims from the other side of the loft.
“Please tell me that’s a goodoh shit,” I say, even though it sounds more like the disastrous kind.
Zoe looks like a kid who got her finger caught in the cookie jar. Not promising. She approaches, iPad out in front of her, and I can tell by her twitchy expression that she is about to launch into an overexplanation.
“What I’m about to tell you might piss you off,” she says. Coco guffaws. “So bear that in mind and confirm you want to risk it but will not hold me accountable.”
“Zoe, this, right here, is freaking me out,” I reply. She blinks and stutters to a stop, waiting for me to respond to her request. “Okay, yes, I confirm.”
She turns the iPad around to show us the screen. She has YouTube pulled up and the Mystic Maven main page open. It doesn’t register with me for a second that the reason she’s showing me this screen is because Kit has uploaded a new video.
“After she announced her hiatus, I set up alerts for new video postings in case she came back. I know you’ve been playing it cool since the wedding, but we can all tell you are hurting.”
