Then again, she thought, she hadn’t really lied—she’d just switched topics. It wasn’t like Spencer told her every little tiny detail. She didn’t want to know every tiny detail. She had once seen an open box of condoms poking out from under a pile of his clothes, for example. She never whipped them out and said, “What, or who, have you been doing with these?” He told her the stuff that mattered to him. She had known about his major crushes, his biggest frustrations. The gory details weren’t important. He had to have left out some pretty big things along the way.
But he had never lied. If she had asked him something, he would have told her, no matter what it was. She knew that for a fact. If she had wanted, for some insane reason, to hear the gory details…he probably would have given them to her. Or, at least, he would have told her as much as he thought a younger sister could hear without her head exploding. He would not have looked her in the face and denied something.
And she didn’t have her period. That was actually a lie.
The train stopped, and he began to wheel off his bike. She followed him as he lifted it up the stairs into the heavy, humid night. He was already talking about something else—something that had happened to him at work that morning. But she wasn’t listening. There was a low pounding in her head, like a pump gone haywire.
She had to tell him. No matter what Eric said. It would be fine. He wouldn’t care. It would change nothing.
Her phone beeped, registering a message that had come in when they were underground. Her hand shook a little as she flipped it open. It was from Eric.
You’ve made a country boy very happy, city girl, it read.
“Who was that?” he asked. “Mrs. Amberson?”
She flipped the phone shut and shoved it into her pocket.
“Yeah,” she said, amazed at how quickly another lie flew from her mouth. “You know what she’s like.”
She would have cracked—started laughing uncontrollably, started screaming. It was unclear. But fate dealt her one other kind hand. As they approached the hotel, they noticed the black Mercedes lolling in front of it with the hazards on. The driver was out of the car and up the street a bit, talking on his phone.
“What’s going on here?” Spencer said, jumping on his bike. “I think we need to go and have a look.”
He rode off ahead. Scarlett walked slowly, trying to catch her breath. She’d made him happy. That was the kind of message you sent if there was a thing—a real thing. She was barely paying attention as Spencer circled the car like a shark, tapping on all the windows to torment the occupants. They didn’t respond to his efforts. The doors and windows remained closed when Scarlett approached.
“What do you think they’re doing in there?” Spencer asked, jumping off his bike and wheeling it to the curb. “If you were going to pick a place to have sex in a car, would it be in front of your own house, blocking traffic?”
“Probably not,” Scarlett said.
She suddenly felt a weird affection for Lola and Chip and their cozy little life.
The door flew open, and Lola got out. She was wearing the Dior dress. Chip looked like he was about to get out after her, but then he caught sight of Scarlett and Spencer standing there. His face was a mess—red, wet. Lola looked comparatively composed, though her eyes were clearly a bit on the runny side and her mascara was smudged a little under the eyes.
“Are you okay?” Spencer asked, as she approached them.
“I’m fine,” she said, brushing back some hair that had stuck to her damp cheeks. “Can you just ask him to go? And be nice to him, Spence. Okay?”
She said it so quietly and with such obvious discomfort that there was no way that Spencer was going to say a word in reply.
Lola went inside. Spencer passed his bike over to Scarlett and went over to the car and leaned over the door. Scarlett couldn’t hear what he was saying, but clearly he wasn’t mocking Chip. Chip put up no resistance. The driver got back into the car, and the Mercedes pulled off.
“I don’t believe it,” Spencer said. “She finally did it. She actually dumped him. I think…I think I feel bad for him. That’s annoying. But also, how great is this?”
As he went toward Trash Can Alley to lock up his bike, a glowing cigarette butt came sailing down next to Scarlett, striking itself out on the pavement on impact. She looked up, and was not surprised to see a thin trail of smoke and a shadow above.
“Interesting night, O’Hara?” a voice asked. “I have a feeling they’re only about to get more so. See you in the morning.”
LOLA SEES A DINOSAUR
Lola was in the Orchid Suite, stripping off her dress when Scarlett opened the door.
“Here,” she said, as Scarlett came in. “This is for you. I think it looks nicer on you, anyway. I’m not sure I can really wear black. Not everyone can. It’s a myth. I’m too pale.”
Scarlett accepted the dress and watched as Lola pulled on a pair of pink shortie pajamas and then set to work dumping out the contents of her underwear drawer onto her bed. She began refolding her panties into perfect little squares, which was something she usually did to relax herself in times of stress.
“Do you want anything?” Scarlett offered quietly. “Tea, or water, or something?”