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I hear shuffling downstairs. Imani must have let herself in. My posse is complete.

“Up here, girl,” Juan shouts, and puts Izzy on the floor. She scampers into the corner to wait until she can get his full attention again.

We both wait with bated breath for Imani to make her, no doubt, impressive entrance into my bedroom.

“This is how you dress for a par-tay!” Juan says, holding up his hand for a high-five with Imani.

I hug my best friend, careful not to ruffle her stunningly colorful silk dress.

“I get what you’re saying, Jay.” I address him. “Imani looks magnificent, but in the end, it’s just a dress. So what’s the big difference?”

“I’m not gonna tell you again, sister,” Juan says, all theatrics. When I see them next to each other, they must have coordinated their outfits. Juan and Imani will, as usual, be the belles of the ball, which is exactly how I like it.

They’re the front I hide behind when I go out, according to an unspoken pact we made decades ago. When they walk in anywhere, all eyes are on them, even if I’m right behind. Compared to their vibrant colors, I’m inconspicuously beige. In their bubble of extroverted fabulousness, I feel safe and secure. They’re my connection to the outside world. My lifeline. They’re all the things I’m not but need to be to survive in this town. Sometimes, only Juan accompanies me and other times only Imani, but most of the time, it’s the three of us together.

“Leave her alone, Jay,” Imani says. She gives me a once-over. “You look absolutely fine.” She puts her hands on my shoulders. “Do you feel comfortable?”

I nod.

“Perfect.” She kisses my cheek. “Then let’s go. I can’t wait to dress down this bossy executive you told me about.”

I railed about the impromptu lunch Michelle St James invited me to, as I always do. Venting is how I process a lot of the tension in my life. That, and long, exhausting sessions with Marcy, my personal trainer.

“Is Chad staying with the babies?” Juan crouches next to Izzy. If it were possible, he’d be more obsessed with my dogs than I am. Izzy turns onto her back for him and presents her belly for a rub. Juan happily obliges.

“Yes,” I confirm.

“Who’s your daddy, girl?” he whispers to Izzy, who wiggles her tiny body around in response.

I say goodbye to Izzy as well, and pet Rogue and Princess profusely on my way to the door. Before I head out, Juan rolls a lint brush over my clothes.

“Nora and her girls are ready to crush this party,” Juan says, as we step into the car.

* * *

“Who is that absolutely gorgeous drink of water?” Through the doorway, Juan eyes the young man Michelle St James brought to Stella’s party. “I highly doubt they’re dating. His queer vibes are through the roof.”

“Even from here, I can see he’s too young for you, Jay,” Imani says. “Have some self-respect.”

“I have no shortage in that department, darling.” Juan drapes his arm around Imani’s shoulders. “Let’s work the room and make stuff happen.”

We walk in and Juan and Imani do a great job of deflecting initial attention, but it’s only a matter of minutes before all eyes are on me.

I introduce them to Michelle, whose plus-one’s mouth falls open when I stand in front of him. A reaction I’m all too familiar with.

“This is Austin,” Michelle says. “My son.”

Ah, the hugeHigh Lifefan.

“Oh, my god,” Austin squeals. “Nora Levine! No fucking way.”

“Language, dear,” Michelle says, but she doesn’t sound scolding. If anything, she looks amused. She leans into my ear. “I knew it was going to be like this.” She rolls her eyes. “Don’t feel as though you need to indulge him. He’s a big boy.”

“Mom. You’re embarrassing me,” Austin says.

“I think you’re doing a pretty good job of that yourself, darling.”

“You must have known I was coming,” I say to Austin.