Page 66 of Conspiracies and Chemistry

“One hundred percent.”

“Stop being perfect,” she said, “and go to sleep.”

27

A Satanic Ritual with Frosting

From Barry Wright’s manifesto:

Birthday parties are a tool of satanic cults. People sing a ritualized song to a person in a room lit only by candles. What else could they be doing but calling up evil spirits?

TESSA

“Are we sure about this?” My voice was squeakier than I intended as I surveyed my kitchen. Savannah’s buffet of appetizers stretched across the island.

“Is it crooked?” Oliver looked back over his shoulder. He held one end of a gold-foil Happy Birthday banner and was taping it to the window frame in the breakfast nook.

“Itiscrooked. But I meant, all this.” I waved at the snacks, gold-tinsel boas, sparkly sunglasses, party hats piled on the coffee table, and the cake on the dining table withHappy Birthday, Savannahpiped in icing on the top. (Although Savannah had insisted on preparing her birthday meal, I’d ordered the cake from a nearby bakery. No one should have to bake their own birthday cake.)

More than all the festivities in my formerly quiet home, bythisI meant Oliver’s presence here, where soon my friends would show up and see us together. I was pretty sure they knew we’d been sleeping together for two weeks, though Oliver left early each morning to shower and change at his place before we went to work separately. I couldn’t have asked Savannah to keep that juicy bit of news from Carly and Lucie.

Playing it off as casual sex with a younger man, my coworker, was one thing. Having him here as my date or cohost or, I didn’t know, more than casual sex was over the line. Lucie, at least, would make a huge deal about it.

Savannah had been chill so far. Last weekend, Oliver had worn those obscene gray sweatpants I couldn’t stop salivating over. She’d treated him like part of the household by greeting him when he poured us coffee and asking him if he’d be joining us for dinner. I’d even caught her asking him about the steps he’d taken to start his business and what he’d done to keep it successful. A frown had flitted over his forehead at that, but he’d shot a glance at me and talked about surrounding himself with smart people.

Leaving the banner dangling, he descended the stepladder and rubbed my shoulders. “Is a party too much? I can start texting people to cancel. I’ll stand out on the street and wave them away.”

“You would, wouldn’t you?” I uncrossed my arms and wrapped them around his waist. Then I kissed him. “It’ll be fine. It’s only Savannah’s kids and our closest friends.”

“This spread looks like it’ll feed everyone you’ve ever met.” He nuzzled my ear.

“I didn’t want anyone to go hungry,” Savannah said, setting a steaming casserole on the island. “If we have leftovers, we can send them home with the guests.”

When the door flew open, I startled.

“Happy birthday!” Carly fluttered in with Andrew, who held a magnum of wine. “Savannah, you look gorgeous.” Savannah’s cheeks went pink to match her ruffly dress, which she wore with Carly’s present to her, a pair of gold sneakers.

“Thank you.” Savannah engulfed her in a hug.

When Savannah turned to hug Andrew, Carly approached me. “You look pretty too.” She leaned toward me as if to kiss my cheek but wobbled back.

“It’s okay,” I said. “You can hug me.” I felt better in my body since that night Oliver slept over for the first time, when instead of being revolted by my menstrual blood, he’d reminded me it was natural. His frequent touches—a caress on my cheek before he left each morning, a brush of my hand when he gave me his printed reports at the office, a casual kiss on the back of my neck as I sat on my couch and worked on my laptop in the evenings—must have desensitized me.

She wrapped me in a hug, not as tight as one of Savannah’s, and whispered in my ear, “You’re glowing. Happiness looks good on you.”

“Who said I was happy?” I grumbled. But she was right. A month in, the results of the clinical trials were promising. The team smiled and laughed at work, and so did I. Living with Savannah was more fun than I’d imagined, plus she’d been feeding me an anti-inflammatory diet that was supposed to improve my symptoms. Each time Oliver walked into my house, my heart gave a silly skip. When he held me at night, all seemed right in my world.

Oliver stepped away from Andrew and rested his hand on my lower back. “More guests incoming.”

I didn’t jump this time when Lucie and Danny strode in. Danny carried a crate full of bottles. “Happy birthday! I brought our bartender,” Lucie said, her brown eyes blazing. “You’ve got to try his new cocktail, Of Mice and Gin. It’s amazing. I’ve pumped, and he’s driving, so we’re all going to get birthday-sloshed—except Danny. And teetotaling Oliver.”

“Thanks, Danny,” I said. “You can set up over there.” I gestured at the small bar tucked away in one corner of the living room. The prior owner had been into entertaining, and I’d halfheartedly filled it with a few wineglasses and my favorite Irish whiskey.

Slowly, the room filled with guests. When Justine walked in with Bridget, she made a beeline for Savannah. Since she’d started working on her divorce case, they’d gotten friendly, and I suspected they’d grow closer once the case was done and Justine could ease off on her professional distance.

Bridget stayed with me for a few minutes to talk about our work. I updated her about the progress we’d made at Discovery—nothing confidential, of course—and she told me about her latest tiff with the CFO, Cole Campion. And as usual, she complained about her sexist boss, the CEO.

“You should leave,” I said. “Another company will recognize your awesomeness. A smaller company would be glad to have someone of your caliber in the CEO role. You deserve it.”

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