Lola looked down modestly.
“Scarlett,” he said, looking a bit nervous now, “we have a big favor to ask of you. We know you plan on looking for a summer job…”
It wasn’t just a plan—it was a desperate need. A job meant money for clothes, for movies, for basically anything above and beyond eating lunch and getting her Metrocard for the subway. It was the money everyone else in her school just got handed to them in the form of a credit card.
“…but we’re going to need some of your time. Possibly a lot of your time…looking after the front desk, answering the phone, cleaning up. Things like that. We’ll try to up your allowance a little when you go back to school to make up for it.”
It didn’t seem like something that could really be argued. The reality of life without Belinda, with no staff at all, was simply too stark.
“It doesn’t sound like I have much of a choice,” she said.
Spencer and Lola were both giving her looks of pure sympathy. But the meeting was far from over. Everyone turned to Spencer. He drew in his cheeks completely and looked as innocent as you could with a sucked-in face.
“Spencer,” her mother began slowly, “last year, when you graduated from high school, we all made an agreement. You had one year after graduation to get things together. One year to get a paying acting job in TV, or film, or commercials, or Broadway. Something that pays.”
“I’ve been to more callbacks than anyone I know,” Spencer said. “It’s a tough business.”
“And we’re proud of you,” she replied. “We know how good you are. But the year is going to be up in three days. You promised that if you didn’t have acting work, you would accept the offer to the culinary academy. You got a year’s deferment, but in order to get the scholarship, you have to agree by then.”
“Three days,” Spencer said, exhaling slowly.
There was a moment of heavy silence, during which the fumes from the waffles got slightly more intense.
“Having dumped all of that on you,” her mother said, obviously feeling guilty, “we’ll clear up the kitchen, and you guys can talk this out a little. We just needed to put it all in front of you, and this was the only time we could do it. And Scarlett, we’ll talk tomorrow about the specifics. Enjoy today.”
“Enjoy today?” Scarlett repeated, when they were gone.
“Yeah,” Spencer said, shaking his head. “Bad close. Very bad. No points for style. Really, it sucked through and through. In fact, I think that was the most suck ever compacted into ten minutes. You couldn’t cram any more in.”
Scarlett noticed a black car stopping in front of the building. She couldn’t see it very clearly through the window at that distance, but she knew who was in it. So, apparently, did Spencer.
“I stand corrected…” he said, eyeing the car.
“I have to go,” Lola said apologetically. “I had no idea about all of…this…until this morning when I came down to decorate. I have to go to a breakfast with Chip before work.”
Spencer examined the contents of the now cold-and-gluey syrup, sticking his finger in the jug and pulling out the thick film. He seemed to consider dropping this in his mouth for a moment, then decided against it and scraped the tarlike substance off with the butter knife.
“A breakfast?” he said mildly. “Didn’t you just have a breakfast?”
“It’s for his dad’s investment partner’s birthday,” Lola answered. “They’re having a little breakfast thing at their club before they go out on the boat for the day. I’m not going to eat—I just have to put in an appearance before I go to work.”
Spencer had never quite forgiven Lola for dating Chip, Durban School’s senior class secretary, Gothamfrat.com’s #98 on the “New York’s 100 Top Prep School Scenesters” list. Spencer took a lot of glee from the fact that Chip only made ninety-eight, considering that someone at Durban wrote the list in the first place. That had been his nickname ever since.
“One doesn’t want to be late for one’s appearance at the club,” Spencer said. “One doesn’t want to start talk. Give Number Ninety-eight my love and kisses.”
Lola gracefully ignored this little needling by stacking all the used silverware on her plate.
“It’s free makeover day at the store today,” she went on. “It’s going to be tragic. Every tourist in New York is going to be there. I’ll try to get back as soon as I can, and we can talk. And Scarlett…happy birthday. It’ll be okay.”
She hurried out, her heels just barely clicking against the herringbone floor. She slid the doors shut behind her gently, leaving Spencer and Scarlett alone with the remains of the party. Spencer got up and watched as Chip greeted Lola outside the car.