Page 9

“It’s natural to feel lonely,” Marnie says. “You’ll get used to it. Is anyone else at the lake besides Eli?”
“As a matter of fact, there is. Katherine Royce.”
“The model?”
“Former model,” I say, remembering what Katherine told me as she wasgetting out of the boat. “She and her husband bought the house across the lake.”
“Vacation with the stars at Lake Greene, Vermont!” Marnie says in her best TV-pitchwoman voice. “Was she bitchy? Models always strike me as being bitchy.”
“She was super sweet, actually. Although that might have been because I saved her from drowning.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“If the paparazzi had been around for that,” Marnie says, “your career prospects would look very different right now.”
“I thought this wasn’t a business call.”
“It’s not,” she insists. “It’s a please-take-care-of-yourself call. We’ll deal with the business stuff when you’re allowed to leave.”
I sigh. “And that’s up to my mother. Which means I’m never leaving. I’ve been sentenced to life in prison.”
“I’ll talk to Aunt Lolly about getting you parole. In the meantime, you have your new model friend to keep you company. You meet her husband?”
“Haven’t had the pleasure yet.”
“I heard he’s weird,” Marnie says.
“Weird how?”
She pauses, choosing her words carefully. “Intense.”
“Are we talking Tom Cruise jumping-on-a-couch intense? Or Tom Cruise dangling-from-an-airplane intense?”
“Couch,” Marnie says. “No, airplane. Is there a difference?”
“Not really.”
“Tom Royce is more like the guy who holds meetings during CrossFit sessions and never stops working. You don’t use his app, do you?”
“No.”
I avoid all forms of social media, which are basically hazardous waste sites with varying levels of toxicity. I have enough issues to deal with. I don’t need the added stress of seeing complete strangers on Twitter tell mehow much they hate me. Also, I can’t trust myself to behave. I can’t begin to imagine the nonsense I’d post with six drinks in me. It’s best to stay away.
Tom Royce’s endeavor is basically a combination of LinkedIn and Facebook. Mixer, it’s called. Allowing business professionals to connect by sharing their favorite bars, restaurants, golf courses, and vacation spots. Its slogan is “Work and play definitely mix.”
Not in my line of work. God knows I’ve tried.
“Good,” Marnie says. “That wouldn’t be a good look for you.”
“Really? I think it’s very on brand.”
Marnie’s voice drops an octave. Her concerned voice, which I’ve heard often in the past year. “Please don’t joke, Casey. Not about this. I’m worried about you. And not as your manager. As your friend and as family. I can’t begin to understand what you’re going through, but you don’t need to do it alone.”
“I’m trying,” I say as I eye the glass of bourbon I abandoned in order to rescue Katherine. I’m gripped by the urge to take a sip, but I know Marnie will hear it if I do. “I just need time.”
“So take it,” Marnie says. “You’re fine financially. And this madness will all die down eventually. Just spend the next few weeks focusing on you.”