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“Where’s Clancy?” she asked.

“Sleeping,” Laurie and Lauren said at the same time before quickly grinning at each other.

Lauren chimed in, “He goes to bed at seven on the dot. Otherwise, we’d go insane.” She mixed Lola’s drink and handed it to her.

Lola took a sip, struggling to swallow.

Aly said, “Too strong?”

Lola winced as it went down. “No, it’s great.”

Lauren laughed. “Sorry. I have a heavy pour.”

“It’s fine,” Lola insisted. “God forbid I loosen up a little.”

They all laughed. “Don’t be nervous,” Lauren said. “We’re happy you’re here.”

“We are,” Aly said and kissed her on the cheek again.

“I’ll take a cocktail if you’re still making them,” Laurie said, handing her empty glass to Lauren, who smiled wearily as though this was her lot in life.

“Anyone else need a refresh?” she asked the group. Everyone handed her their glasses, and Lauren declared them all useless before trailing into the house, empties stacked and tucked in her arms.

“So, Lola, where are you from?” Jess inquired, leaning forward in her seat.

Lola flushed, finding Jess just a bit too stunning to look directly in the eye. Aly seemed to notice and smirked her way. “LA,” Lola finally offered. “You?”

“No way, me too,” Jess replied. “Whereabouts?”

“Laurel Canyon!”

“Altadena,” Jess added, raising her hands in preemptive surrender.

“So you know that’s hardly LA,” Lola teased, “but I’ll take it.”

“I know, I know. The mountains were my backyard. But still. You and I have more in common than us and any of these East Coasters.”

“Amen to that,” Lola said. “So what brought you to New York?”

“Love.” Jess eyed Colette, whose steely expression dropped momentarily. “We met when we were living in Los Feliz, and then Colette decided she wanted to be part of the New York lit scene. I followed her.”

Colette rolled her eyes. “It was a little more complicated than that. It’s hard to break out as an author when you’re not near the publishing industry. In LA, everyone just wants to know about your screenplay.”

“I get that,” Lola said.

“Do you?” Colette asked, her voice curt.

There was an awkward pause as Lola grappled with what to say next. Sure, she may not be on the forefront of literary fiction, and sure, she didn’t get hand-delivered books from Sally Rooney herself, butstill, she at least knew whatIntermezzowas. And Lola would pick up a smutty romance here and there. It wasn’t like publishing and media were that disconnected. Lola squeezed Aly’s leg under the table, a silent plea for help.

“Colette, can you be nicer?” Aly asked.

“I’m being nice.” Colette pouted. “I just didn’t realize Lola knew anything about the literary scene.”

Lola stopped herself from rolling her eyes. It was bad enough that she was the only straight girl in the group—now she also couldn’t be taken seriously because she didn’t subscribe toKirkus? Great to know.

Lola ignored Colette, turning back to Jess, who seemed to bewatching the interaction like a mildly entertaining tennis match. “Do you think you’ll ever move back?”

“I’m back and forth a lot for work, but it’s hard to see myself there at this point. Maybe when we’re ready for a slower life,” Jess said. “What about you?”