Chelsea Biggs was jogging down the sidewalk toward them. Scarlett had anticipated that some people would read Spies of New York—but not everyone. Another miscalculation.
“Just made it!” she said. “I heard about it during intermission and…”
Her eyes fell on the hooded figure that had turned away from them. There was a moment of confusion when she realized it was her brother, then she shrugged, as if Max’s appearance could be just chalked up to his constant attempts to annoy her. It was amazing how good Scarlett had gotten at reading the Biggs family signals.
“Anyway,” Chelsea said excitedly, “Eric messaged me and told me what was going on. I can’t believe I missed it! Did you guys talk?”
Chelsea really had no idea how any kind of normal human friendship worked. No one had told her that you weren’t supposed to run up to heartbroken ex-girlfriends and ask if they’d heard the glad tidings that you had taken over their role.
“No,” Scarlett said coldly. “I don’t want to talk to him.”
“Why not?” Chelsea asked. “Let him explain.”
“I’m fine with it, okay?” Scarlett said. This was supposed to be a lie, but she managed to say it with such surprising conviction that she wondered if she meant it. She even managed to add, “I hope you guys are happy,” without making it sound like she was placing a pox on the House of Biggs. These words, far from soothing Chelsea, only seemed to confuse her. She immediately looked at Max.
“What did you say to her?” Chelsea snapped. “What did you do?”
“Nothing,” he mumbled. “You said you went out. That’s what I told her. Because it was true. I don’t even know who this guy is…”
“Don’t listen to him, Scarlett,” Chelsea said. “We did go out, but not that way. Eric came to the show. I found out he was there, because they tell me who uses my comps. We talked after the show. He told me all about you two, and he was all upset because you didn’t show up. He said he’s been trying to talk to you for days, but you don’t answer. You’re my friend. You helped me when the show closed. I wanted to help you, too. I’ve been talking to him, trying to get you two back together. He really misses you. He was so excited to see you tonight…”
Dusty and dormant gears in Scarlett’s brain clicked into action, attempting to make sense of all of this. Eric and Chelsea were not dating. Eric missed her. And Max…
Max had stalked off in the direction of the subway without another word. Chelsea shook her head.
“He’s such a jerk,” she said. “I am so sorry he did this to you. He…”
Scarlett didn’t hear the rest, because she hurried off after him. He was taking huge, quick strides, and had gotten about halfway down the block.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“Where do you think I’m going?”
“You just walked away! We were still talking!”
“I wasn’t talking. I’m done.”
“Why are you so angry?” she said. “What did I even do?”
Max stopped and faced her. He was doing strange things with his mouth—sucking his lips in, shifting it to the left and right. There was something so intense coming off of him that it caused Scarlett’s pulse to jump and quicken.
“Fine,” she said, holding up her hands. “Don’t tell me.”
“You should go,” he replied. “Sounds like your actor boyfriend is waiting for you. Go on. Run.”
He made a brushing motion with his hand, as if scooting her along. It was so absurd and childish that Scarlett accidentally laughed. He turned and continued toward the subway.
“See you tomorrow,” she said as he walked away. There was no acknowledgment that she had spoken. Max’s back was a wall.
She walked back to Chelsea, who was standing there, waiting patiently.
“Don’t worry about him,” she said. “I’ll make him miserable at home for you. I can’t believe he did that. Well, actually, I can believe it.”
Scarlett started walking numbly in the direction of the meet up. Chelsea was still talking, telling her all the things Eric had said about her. The account seemed a little embellished, but the underlying message was clear: Eric wanted to get together with her. For real. Dating with a capital D. That’s all she had wanted for so long, and there it was. And yet, some part of her just wanted to run back and grab Max and shake him until all his teeth fell out. All her impulses toward Max were so—violent.
When she turned the corner, she saw them a block or so ahead. Her parents were talking to the actors, whom they hadn’t seen in a few weeks. They had gotten to know everyone during the show, and wanted to know how they were doing. Mrs. Amberson was talking excitedly on the phone. Spencer was rubbing one of his arms, but he was laughing. Eric held up a shy hand of greeting.