Page 29 of First Comes Forever

There’s a commotion as I hear Quinn scrambling to grab her office phone. I snicker to myself.

“Did I not just tell you you’re on speakerphone?” she hisses. “And my office door is open.”

I smirk into the phone. “You know better than to put me on speakerphone.”

Instead of scolding me, she seems to hum in approval. “Well, you seem more like your obnoxious self.”

“You’re welcome.” I curtsy even though she can’t see me.

“No, I’m serious. You’ve been so quiet lately. I volunteered to check on you today and make sure you were all right after last night.”

“Last night?” I ask.

“Yeah, you missed girls’ night. We figured your internet was on the fritz again, but we tried to FaceTime you like ten times. Mani, jokes aside, I’m worried about you.”

I have flawless internet at Elm Community. Spotty service is an excuse I’d use to miss girls’ night when I was having a tough time pulling myself out from under the covers. The benefit to living this far away is they can only call me incessantly. They can’t bang down my door and demand proof of life. Well, technically, they could. And if I keep missing our longest-standing tradition, they really all might show up in L.A. soon.

“It’s already Saturday?” I ask, pretending to be surprised. Of course Quinn is working on a Saturday. “This whole damn week has been a blur. Don’t be worried, I’m just busy.”

It started with my disappointing non-pregnancy news, then quickly evolved into my homeless and carless situation, and wrapped up in a nice bow two days ago, with me offering Adam Montgomery sex, and him metaphorically responding with a “thanks, but no, thanks,” handshake.

But I’m not telling Quinn all that.

“I’ve just been distracted trying to lock down some new business. I’ll FaceTime you guys next week. I promise.”

“How is business going?” Quinn asks.

I suck in a little breath and hold it. Yet again, here is an opportunity to be honest. A chance to tell one of my best friends in the world I’m struggling. An opportunity to ask for help.

“Good.”Dammit, Amani. Just try.“Actually, can I ask you something?”

“Of course, what’s up?” For a moment, I tap my finger against the countertop, watching my light pink nail click against the granite. “Mani?”

“Do you ever hate your job? Or just aspects of your job? Actually no…not the aspect…just people?”

“Of course I do. One of my direct reports thought ‘EOD’ meant ‘End of December.’ Can you believe that? He was planning on being six months late with an analytics report that we needed for Q3 investor reporting. He literally told me the report was too much labor to get it done. This guyismy analyst.It’s literally in his job description. I had to write him up for neglecting job duties, and now the entire office has nicknamed me ‘Devil Wears Prada.’ There’s no winning as a woman in corporate these days. I have to be the boss, without being bossy—the double standards, I mean…” She audibly exhales. “Sorry, babe. Tangent. That’s not what you meant, is it?”

“No,” I say with a sigh. “I meant, have you ever been at the point where you start questioning whether or not humanity is inherently good?”

“What does that mean?”

How do I explain this?“You know how people can be likeThe Matrix.You plug in, go through the motions, fake a smile, and you pretend so much you actually think everything is okay. But when you unplug and you’re looking at what’s really going on, it’s a robot-war shitstorm and humanity doesn’t really exist. These aren’t people, it’s just evil, empty AI shells.”

There’s silence for a while, and then I hear Quinn furiously tapping against her keyboard again.Good grief.She couldn’t even go five minutes without attending to her emails—

“Hey, are you closer to LAX or Burbank Airport?”

“What?” I ask.

“Evil empty AI shells, Amani? You’re not okay. I’m booking a flight.”

“Quinn—”

“What’s our pact? Hm? Of all of our friends, you and I have an unrivaled pain tolerance when it comes to the world’s bullshit. We promised to be honest with each other, didn’t we? When was the only time I ever told you I was in a bad place?”

I’m hesitant to say the words because the rule is, we don’t talk about Savannah, Quinn’s mom. It’s the only way Quinn copes. We’re not allowed to bring it up. “When your mom died.”

“Right. And once I finally asked for help, you pulled me out, didn’t you? That’s why I kept that stupid, creepy necklace. It’s a reminder that even when you feel like there’s no hope,there’s hope. Because we’re all right here for you. So tell me now, Mani, is all the sketchy flakiness over the last year because you’re busy or because you’re hurting?”

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