Page 4 of Taste of Addiction

“You too, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight, Graham.”

“Goodnight, Angie.”

I place my phone on the windowsill and finish the chapter I was in the middle of before I got the call. I close the book, shut off the light, and tread through the house until I am up the stairs and back in my room.

I brush my teeth and hair and then lie in bed with my iPad. I open up my secret email and reread all of the notes and research topics I sent to the account. I still have an internship to strive toward—even if my dream is more of a distant fantasy at this moment in time.

* * *

I wake up to the sound of an unusual rhythmic ringing coming from my nightstand. I flip open the protective cover on my iPad and answer the video call from Claire.

“Oh wow, girl, you look like you are fresh out of prison. Quarantine hair, don’t care?”

I look at the tiny box that contains a close-up of my face. Wow. She got the prison part correct; that is exactly what this place feels like. “Yeah, and a bunch of other things I don’t care about either,” I say with a shrug.

“Oh no, you don’t. Don’t do that.” She looks down at her fingernails and back to me.

“Do what?”

“I can already see the signs.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Claire? Just spit it out.”

“You have let yourself go.”

I look down at my fuzzy heart shirt and then back up to take note of my rat’s nest hair. My eyes are swollen and reflect back defeat to me on the video chat screen. “Way to build up a girl’s confidence.”

“Listen to me, Angela Renee McFee. It has not even been twenty-four hours since you have been sent to prison without a key.”

“How do you even—”

“Graham filled me in on your new crash pad, but that man only gives crumbs of information when all I really want is a damn sandwich.”

I laugh. Claire has a way of always lightening the mood.

She snaps her fingers into the screen, making my focus return to her. “But you will not continue on with this I-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude. It does not look good on you. And all the frowning is just going to give you premature wrinkles. Plus, brighten up, it’s the best day to shop out of the entire year. So that is what we’re going to do.”

“What? How?”

She clicks her tongue. “Together. Virtually.”

“Now?”

“Yes, dammit. Now. I have these urges—”

“Sounds like a personal problem,” I tease.

“Hush. So, I have these urges to buy something frivolous. And expensive.”

“Okay.”

Claire holds up a poster featuring the names of the stores she wants to shop at, including cutouts of generic items she plans to buy. “Look, I even made a vision board to help keep us focused.”

“I am—”

“Thankful and impressed,” she interrupts. “I know.”

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