Chương 13
Not elegantly.
Not carefully.
She kicked off her shoes again and moved in the middle of a circle of friends with both arms in the air.
At one point, she caught me watching from the bar.
She pointed at me.
I shook my head.
She pointed harder.
“No.”
She walked across the dance floor.
I backed away.
“Absolutely not.”
“You owe me.”
“For what?”
“For emotional damages.”
“You tried to throw me out of my hotel.”
“Exactly.”
“That sentence does not support your argument.”
She grabbed my sleeve.
“Thirty seconds.”
“I don’t dance.”
“You danced at my cousin Lauren’s wedding.”
“You are my cousin.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I was twenty-one.”
“And terrible.”
“Then why invite a repeat performance?”
“Because it’ll make me feel better.”
“That sounds selfish.”
“I’m growing slowly.”
I let her pull me onto the edge of the dance floor.
She laughed before I even moved.
“Wow.”
“What?”
“You still dance like somebody is pointing a gun at you.”
“I’m leaving.”
“No.”
She caught my wrist.
“You have to stay until the chorus.”
“That is not a real rule.”
“It is tonight.”
I stayed.
I hated every second.
Then I hated slightly fewer seconds.
Megan appeared beside us and shouted something I could not hear.
Emily shouted back.
Trevor danced with a dinner napkin tied around his head.
Robert stood near the tables while Diane tried unsuccessfully to make him join.
For a few minutes, the party became what it probably should have been from the beginning.
Not evidence.
Not performance.
Just people making fools of themselves under rented lights.
When the song ended, I escaped.
Emily followed me to the bar, breathing hard.
“You survived.”
“Barely.”
“You were worse than I remembered.”
“That seems unnecessary.”
She picked up a glass of water.
“I’m trying honesty.”
“You’re abusing it.”
She drank half the glass.
Then she looked toward Daniel.
He stood near the entrance talking to Robert.
“Do you trust him?”
I followed her gaze.
“No.”
She nodded.
“Neither do I.”
“But I believe he’s trying to make something right.”
“That’s different.”
“Yeah.”
She traced a ring of condensation with one finger.
“What if Northline calls him and he says the wrong thing?”
“That could happen.”
“What if they hear enough and decide I’m too risky?”
“That could also happen.”
She frowned.
“You’re terrible at reassurance.”
“I own a hotel, not a church.”
She smiled briefly.
“I hate interviews.”
“Everyone does.”
“No, I really hate them.”
“What happens?”
“I start answering normally, then I hear myself talking, then I think I sound rehearsed, then I try to sound less rehearsed, which somehow makes me sound like I’m hiding a body.”
“That seems fixable.”
“How?”
“Stop managing how you sound.”
She stared at me.
“You say that after watching me tonight?”
“Especially after tonight.”
She looked down at her water.
“You think I should tell them everything?”
“No.”
Her eyes lifted.
“Why not?”
“Because everything isn’t useful.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means tell the truth they need to evaluate you.”
“And if they ask whether I altered reporting?”
“Answer.”
“And if they ask whether Daniel directed me?”
“Answer.”
“And if they ask why I didn’t object?”
I paused.
“Then don’t give them the polished version.”
Her mouth tightened.
“I don’t know what the unpolished version is.”
“Yes, you do.”
She looked away.
The band ended the song.
Applause moved through the room.
“I was scared,” she said.
There was no drama in the words.
“I thought if I pushed back, Daniel would think I couldn’t handle the account.”
“Then say that.”
“That sounds weak.”
“It sounds true.”
She looked at me for a long moment.
“You’re annoyingly good at this.”
“I spent years interviewing people who lie about why they left restaurants.”
“That’s different.”
“Not that different.”
Priya approached with the payment agreement.
Emily looked at the paper.
“Reality.”
“Unfortunately.”
She signed where Priya indicated.
Priya explained the monthly amount, due date, and automatic reminder schedule.
Emily read every line.
I noticed.
“Good habit,” I said.
She gave me a look.
“I’ve had a week.”
“Fair.”
When she finished, Priya took the document.
“You’ll get a copy by email tomorrow morning.”
“Thank you.”
“And happy birthday.”
Emily smiled.
“Thank you for not throwing me out.”
Priya glanced at me.
“It was discussed.”
Emily’s mouth fell open.
I looked at Priya.
“You’re fired.”
“No, I’m not.”
Emily laughed so hard she had to put down her water.
At eleven, the band stopped.
The lights came up slowly.
Guests began hugging Emily, collecting coats, searching for phones, and negotiating who was sober enough to supervise the rideshare pickups.
The ballroom changed personality almost immediately.
Without dim lighting and music, it was just a large room full of used glasses, crooked chairs, half-eaten cake, and confetti someone had apparently smuggled in despite the contract.
Luis emerged from the kitchen and stared at the floor.
“I hate confetti.”
“I didn’t approve confetti.”
“Confetti does not care about your authority.”
He walked away muttering in Spanish.
Emily stood near the cake table saying goodbye.
She looked tired now.
The armor was gone.
Her makeup had smudged slightly beneath one eye.
Diane came over carrying Emily’s shoes.
“You left these under a table.”
“I know.”
“You’re going to step on glass.”
“There isn’t any glass.”
“You don’t know that.”
Emily took the shoes.
“Yes, Mom.”
Diane started to say something else.
Then she stopped.
“Call me tomorrow.”
Emily looked wary.
“For what?”
“Nothing.”
Diane’s voice softened.
“Just call.”
Emily nodded.
Robert came over next.
He had his jacket folded over one arm.
“Breakfast tomorrow?”
Emily made a face.
“What kind?”
“The kind where nobody evaluates your career.”
“That restaurant doesn’t exist.”
“Pancakes.”
She considered it.
“Fine.”
“Ten?”
“Eleven.”
“Ten-thirty.”
“Deal.”
He hugged her.
This time she hugged him back.
When they left, Daniel remained near the doors.
Emily noticed.
I watched both of them pretend not to notice each other.
Eventually, Daniel approached.
“The authorization was reversed.”
May you like
“I know.”
“I’ll call Northline if they contact me.”
