“Six shots? You’re kidding.”
“Six shots,” Deb confirmed with a hiccup.
Harriet, who’d been dutifully stacking into a Tupperware the homemade buckeyes Athena had made in honor of the book’s Ohio scenes, made a disapproving harrumphing noise.
“What did you guys think about the tunnel scene?” Janine said, her voice a little mumbly as she slumped into Jen’s banquette. “With that, what was her name? One thing I’ll say about our girl Fiona. Verrry equal-opportunity. Did I ever tell you guys about in college, when I—hello, and what do we have here?”
Colin and Abe, both in heavy wool coats, had come into the kitchen. Their cheeks were flushed from the cold, and their faces were too serious for the room.
Abe fled upstairs abruptly, but if he’d been rude, the women didn’t seem to notice. They beamed at Colin.
“How was the movie?” Jen said carefully. It felt inappropriate to act tipsy in front of Colin.
“Fine,” Colin said. “Can I help you guys clean up?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Jen said at the same time that Janine hissed something that sounded like, “Yaassssssss.”
With a messily dramatic point of her arm, Janine directed Colin to carry the folding chairs to the closet. When he turned his back, she mimed grabbing his rear.
Cute, she mouthed, and dissolved into giggles. She pointed sloppily under her right eye and mouthed, He’s wearing makeup.
“Janine,” Jen said. “Control yourself.”
Janine saluted and lost her balance and laughed even harder. “Sir,” she asked Colin, “are you in college?”
“Grad school,” Jen said.
“How old is he?”
“Twenty-five,” Colin said quietly.
Jen smiled at him in a way that was intended to transmit it was all silliness, not harassment in the least.
“Twenty-five,” Janine sang. “I remember twenty-five.”
“We’re very pleased for you,” Jen said.
“Wait. Do I?” Janine sounded lost as she stood up and wobbled over to Colin, cupped his chin with her hand. “You are an itty-bitty Goth baby.”
It would have been an awkward moment for most anyone, but later that night, Jen would think of all the different ways that Colin might have reacted.
He might have stepped backward to free himself, or smiled politely or tried to laugh it off or even pushed away Janine, who was half his size. But whether a person became predator or prey had nothing to do with size or strength. It was all mindset.
Becoming a mother—Abe’s mother—had turned Jen into a vulnerability detector. She couldn’t stomach watching someone flail, even fictional characters, even cartoons. Every Bambi, every Dumbo: It’s Abe, her body would scream. That could be Abe.
So, when Colin froze in response to Janine’s touch, when his spooked eyes met Jen’s, she snapped into action.
“Janine, are we going to have to enroll you in sensitivity training?” Jen pulled Janine off Colin and pushed her in the direction of the banquette. “Who’s driving her home?”
“I will,” Priya said.
Collapsed against the soapstone countertop, Janine blew a big sloppy kiss in Priya’s direction. “My hero.”
“I’m so, so sorry,” Jen said to Colin as she walked him to the door. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” he whispered. “Thank you.”
It took all of her strength to not rub his back as she would have with Abe. Some people just needed a little more help.
* * *
Annie stayed in Lena’s driveway until she saw the lights go on inside.
Whenever Annie brought up Rachel, Lena’s canned reaction reminded Annie of her first job after college, which had been assisting a public relations department.
Yes, Rachel is doing GREAT. And … topic pivot. When someone answered like that, there was always more to the story.
Did Rachel have friends? An explosive temper? Had Rachel’s personality ever changed on a dime? Did Rachel have a problem with addiction?
On the night of the party, Rachel had been tending bar. Even from feet away, Annie could feel her storminess, her general dissatisfaction.
Not to mention that ugly scene at Bryce Neary’s funeral.
Annie wanted Lena to level with her, because she was pretty sure that Lena had insider information: What was regular teen angst and what was something more?
* * *
When Annie got home from book club, she found Laurel stretched out on the couch in the darkened den that smelled faintly of nail polish. Laurel’s headphones were plugged into Mike’s old MP3 player.