‘Oh God. Don’t tell me you had sex with him?’ she asked.
‘Of course I didn’t!’
‘Did he try?’
‘No, I don’t think so.’
‘Did you?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Think?You either did or didn’t.’
‘We were drunk. I know I didn’t, silly.’
‘How do you feel about him now?’
‘I’m not sure. I know I feel bad.’
‘I feel bad for you too.’ She sighed.
‘You do?’
‘And Rob. Have you spoken to him yet?’
‘No, but I’d like to. If he ever phones me back.’
‘Oh, Am, perhaps you should try to talk things through with him before you jump into bed with a hot Brazilian.’
‘He’s American.’
‘Similar thing. What are you doing today?’
‘Prepping for the Baby Mom launch this evening.’
‘You must have an hour to spare. I’m going to kidnap you for a coffee date. Send me the address. I’ll ring when I’m parked outside.’
‘I’ll get an Uber to meet you, it’ll be quicker. I need a plan.’
Vicky and I arranged to meet for breakfast at Urth Caffé in downtown LA. I managed to leave the house in an Uber before anyone else, especially Jimi, was up. My mouth was dry, head spinning, stomach rumbling, and I couldn’t wait to see my best friend. It had been six long months since we were last able to be together IRL.
The second I spotted Vicky at a table inside the café my spirits lifted. She looked exactly the same, except more tanned, and with a pink Prada Spectrum Bag across her body which I’d bet was definitely real and not one of the designer knock-offs I had bought her from Manhattan’s notorious Bag Man.
We hugged each other tightly for a whole minute and the woman who ran the place asked if we were long-lost sisters.
‘We may as well be,’ Vicky replied excitedly. ‘I love her like a sister.’
‘Chosen family!’ I seconded.
Over lattes and fresh blueberry muffins, the conversation turned to Jimi. ‘So, who is he?’ Vicky asked.
‘He’s Jose’s younger brother. He’s from Miami, he’s a DJ,’ I replied.
Vicky rolled her eyes. ‘I don’t mean his Instagram bio. I mean who is hereally?’
‘He does Mandy’s social media; he’s into meditation and practising gratitude.’
‘And?’