Page 64 of Damaged

Alessia points at my plate daintily. “You know, crabs and lobsters are more related to spiders and bugs than they are fish.”

“Mhmm. I saw that same video. Disgusting,” Kate says and looks at me. “I don’t know how you eat the stuff.”

Am I seriously being judged for eating crab legs? I hold my fury in. Poorly. “Well, it’s simple,Kate. Sea bugs are delicious when you dip them in butter.” I take a big bite of crab, holding an entire leg to my mouth like it’s a flute, and stare her in the eye.

Kate looks at me with a snarl. Her face is contorted in disgust like I’m a human fart cloud. I’m being a little unhinged around these rich folks, but I don’t care. I’m content being as different from their posh asses as possible.

The conversation resumes, and eventually it steers exactly where I don’t want it to: me.

And it’s Kate who starts it.

“So, what’s it like renting in New York City these days? I haven’t done that since I was a teenager. I hear it’s crazy.”

This bitch has her Ph.D. in underhand comments. She even picks the moment when my mouth is stuffed with crab. Which has been most of the dinner, to be fair. But I should’ve been more strategic. I should’ve been taking smaller bites.

I play it cool. I lean back and tilt my head from shoulder to shoulder as I tap my fingers and chew. I swallow. “It’s not great. Especially when your neighbor is a billionaire. They tend to drive rent up,” I say, looking at James.

“Wait, you two are neighbors?” Kate asks.

“He’s a floor above me.”

“Wow, James Callaway. Slumming. I had no idea.”

“Quit it, Kate,” James says like he’s her dad.

Kate giggles, but it’s fake, and I can tell she’s a little embarrassed at being called out.

Kate’s boyfriend—Jax or Jaques? I don’t know. Her boyfriend, the very blond Dutch dude with beady eyes and a big chin that juts out farther than the rest of his face, looks at James like he’s going to say something in her defense, but he keeps his mouth closed. Instead, the Dutchman turns to me.

“James was telling me he was taking someone named Jessica to Egypt. That’s not you?”

I’ve already told everyone my name, but I don’t fault them for not remembering. “No, I’m Sophia.”

“Why the change of plan?”

“She broke her leg,” I say.

“Ahh,” the Dutchman says like everything suddenly makes sense. “You’re the backup assistant, then?”

“Um… sure.”

“Did she do good?” he asks James, while pointing at me like a doofus with his fork.

“She did incredible, Johannes.” James’s eyes have darkened. They’re narrowed, showing little of the whites.

“Hey, what do they call that in America?” He snaps his fingers. “The backup quarterback, right?” Johannes asks.

James doesn’t respond.

“To the backup quarterback!” Johannes raises his glass in a toast. The others do too, except James and me. He sits at the head of the table, sideways in his chair. One hand rests next to his plate. He looks dangerous.

I see Johannes and Kate are not opposites. They have that similar talent of being able to mask an insult in a toast so they can get away with being mean in the open.

I look at James. He’s closed his eyes. He’s grimacing, but he’s not saying anything.

I just want to go to bed. I’ve had enough crab for the night. I pick up a wine bottle and fill my glass to the brim.

“Are you planning to work up through the ranks, then?” Johannes asks me.

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