Page 32 of Damaged

“No, the police don’t have to name which friend did it since it was self-defense. It just says when one of the men attempted to stop the assailant, things turned violent.”

I don’t know what to think of this. James being capable of violence isn’t a surprise. “You had me scared for a minute,” I say. “I’m just glad he wasn’t accused of killing the girl next door.”

“It says he used abrick, Sophia. That doesn’t bother you?”

“He sounds resourceful,” I say and sip my coffee.

“I didn’t expect you to be defending the dude who just fired you.”

“I’m over it. New Sophia doesn’t stew.”

“Maybe youshouldstew.”

I shrug. “I got a year’s pay. He said he’d hook me up with a new job. I’ve had worse things happen to me in the last year.” By worse things, I mean Jake.

Alana purses her lips like she just remembers this. It’s a pitying look, and I hate it. She doesn’t even know just how much she should pity me.

“It’s not your year.”

“No,” I say, and the two of us squeeze hands. “It’s not.”

I wish I could explain just how much it wasn’t my year. How Jake had been cheating on me since we were sweethearts. And that even though he annoys me, my stupid heart won’t stop its savage pounding around James.

It’s my fault. I bottled myself up like this. And as close as I am to shattering the glass, I feel the words crash and pile up in my throat. I never said anything about the extent of my problems then, and I’m not going to now.

I just want a hand to hold.

“I have some good news,” Alana says, breaking the silence.

“What’s that?”

“I talked to Hailee this morning. She’s coming to New York in a couple weeks with Alex.”

“Oh, that’s great,” I say, but even I can hear the lack of enthusiasm in my voice. There was no exclamation point.Hailee makes me think of James because her perfect boyfriend is billionaire buds with him.

“Anyway, you two should hang out a lot while she’s here. You’re not working, and she won’t be either.”

I nod. I’m not looking forward to that. I’m happy for Hailee. She got her life together big-time in the last few months. New job. New boyfriend. New state.

She had always looked up to me as someone who had their shit together. I’m not looking forward to her finding out that I’ve fallen apart.

I eat my cinnamon roll, just so Alana doesn’t worry about me. But really my stomach feels like it’s being squeezed in a giant fist.

We talk for another half hour, but not about anything deep, and then before I know it, we’re hugging and she’s leaving.

I don’t want her to go.

I want to beg for her to skip rehearsal. Get Thai takeout for lunch and watch crappy movies with me all afternoon. But wouldn’t that be pathetic? I can’t make up my mind whether it would be or not before she’s walking out the door and I’m closing it behind her.

I kick off my athletic pants where I stand. They were a charade anyway. This was an underwear kind of day.

I go back to the couch and see that I have two missed calls from Richard. I’m sure he wants my keycard ASAP.

He’ll need to change all the computer passwords, too. The gallery is essentially a bank in terms of the assets it holds.

I sit on the couch, already dreading the prospect of how I’m going to spend an entire day to myself, when there’s a knock on the door. I look around first to see if Alana forgot something, but I don’t see anything.

Maybe she turned around because she realized the sheer amount of sadness I was hiding from her. Slim chance.

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