Callie’s heart tripped because she had stupidly assumed Sidney would stay for the afterparty. She scooped up her purse and trailed her out the door. Fortunately, Sidney went left instead of right toward the exit. Then she took another right toward the ladies’ room. The phone was to her ear. Her voice was a growly mumble. The romantic drama continued.
Old-lady perfume wafted out of the Sunday school rooms as Callie trailed behind Sidney. The odor made Callie long for her early Covid days when she couldn’t smell or taste anything. She turned, checking behind her. Everyone else was streaming toward the parking lot, probably on their way to work. Callie took a right then pushed open the door.
Three sinks on a long counter. One giant mirror. Three stalls, only one of them occupied.
“Because I said so, you dumbass,” Sidney hissed from the last stall. “Do you think I care about your fucking mother?”
Callie gently closed the door.
“Fine. Whatever you say.” Sidney let out a frustrated groan. There were a couple more fucks, then she seemed to decide that since she was sitting on a toilet, she might as well pee.
Callie turned on the faucet to make her presence known. She stuck her hands under the cold water. The bare flesh under her torn fingernail started to sting. Callie pressed into the side, bringing out a thin line of blood. Her mouth filled with saliva again. She heard Andrew’s voice, so much like Buddy’s voice, echoing through the dark stadium tunnel.
Madeline Félicette Collier, aged sixteen.
The toilet flushed. Sidney came out of the stall. Her face was absent a mask. She was even more attractive in person than on her social. She told Callie, “Sorry, fucking boyfriend. Husband. Whatever. He got mugged yesterday afternoon. We’re talking just hours before our wedding. But he won’t call the cops or tell me what happened.”
Callie nodded, pleased that Andrew had come up with a good lie.
“I don’t know what his problem is.” Sidney twisted on the faucet. “He’s being a total dickwad.”
“Love is brutal,” Callie said. “At least that’s what I carved onto my last girlfriend’s face.”
Sydney’s hand went to her mouth as she guffawed. She seemed to realize her face was uncovered. “Fuck, sorry, I’ll put on my mask.”
“It’s cool,” Callie said, peeling off her own mask. “I hate these fucking things anyway.”
“Preach.” Sidney punched the lever on the soap dispenser. “I’m, like, so ready to be over these meetings. What’s the point?”
“I always feel better hearing people are worse off than I am.” Callie took some soap for herself. She adjusted the water to make it warmer. “Do you know any good places to get breakfast around here? I’m staying at the St. Regis and I can’t take another room service meal.”
“Oh, right, you’re from Chicago.” Sidney turned off the faucet, shook out her hands. “So you used to be a dancer?”
“Long time ago.” Callie pulled out a paper towel from the dispenser. “I still do my routines, but I miss performing.”
“I bet,” Sidney said. “I took dance all the way through high school. I loved it, like, crazy I-wanna-do-this-for-the-rest-of-my-life loved it.”
“You’ve still got it,” Callie said. “I noticed it when you walked across the room. You don’t ever lose that poise.”
Sidney preened.
Callie pretended to look for something in her purse. “Why’d you stop?”
“Not good enough.”
Callie looked up, skeptical eyebrow raised. “Trust me, there were a lot of girls who weren’t good enough who still made it onto stage.”
Sidney shrugged, but she looked enormously pleased. “I’m too old now.”
“I would say you’re never too old, but we both know that’s bullshit.” Callie kept her hand in her purse, like she was waiting for Sidney to leave. “Hey, it was nice meeting you. I hope things work out with your husband.”
Sidney’s disappointment was writ large on her face. And then her eyes did exactly what Callie wanted them to do. They traveled down to the purse. “You holding?”
Bingo.
Callie winced with faked regret as she pulled out one of the prescription bottles. Stimulants were generally the last thing that Callie wanted, but she had assumed a woman of Sidney’s generation would be all about the Adderall.
“Study Buddies.” Sidney smiled at the label. “Mind sharing? I am so fucking hungover.”