Page 25 of Fun at Parties
My phone vibrates with Caleb’s response, saving me from myself.Hey. Trip is good. Hope you’re well too. Yeah, I know someone who can help.As clinical as it is, I can’t bear to look at his message any longer than I have to.
“He’s got a guy,” I announce. “If I text this number, we’re in.”
“That doesn’t sound shady at all.”
To my surprise, another message from Caleb pops up on my screen.You need to do something about what’s happening on your socials. People are being really hard on me and Paige. Can you please like my last post? It’ll show that there are no hard feelings.
Really, Caleb? No hard feelings? My feelings are extremely hard. And if he thought his popularity would protect him from backlash, that’s on him. He probably figured I’d do what I usually do and act like everything was fine. He didn’t count on my breakdown.
It still stings, but this exchange makes one thing clear: I don’t miss him. Not like I missed Nate after what happened between us. Spending time with him again has thrown the contrast into sharp relief. There’s a difference between feeling the loss of a person and feeling the loss of the comforts and amenities of a relationship. With Nate, I was wrecked because I no longer had him. His sly jokes and steady ease.
With Caleb, I felt betrayed. Gut-punched. My ego took a blow. I was stressed about whether Tracy and our riders would be disappointed.
I don’t know if the difference is because Nate wasspecial, or because I’ve changed. Hardened. Gone cold, like Caleb said. I’m not sure which possibility is worse.
Caleb’s last post is a montage of clips of Paige and him in Hawaii. My finger refuses to tap the Like button, so I navigate to Paige’s profile instead. She’s posted something similar. I watch him kiss her shoulder while they watch a sunset, and I know he probably filmed six different versions of it, and I am so glad he’s not my boyfriend anymore. I like her post instead of his.Good luck,I think, and pressing the heart on the screen feels like pressing my hand to my own.
Ahead, the outskirts of the city rise out of the desert: big developments with identical houses, highway lights, overpasses and signs indicating a web of roads instead of just one that goes on for hundreds of miles. I loved this part of my drive west when I moved to L.A., when after hours of interstate I could feel that something different was coming.
A notification pops up on my phone. An email from Tracy. I gather my nerve and open it.
Quinn—do you have service in Tahoe? Haven’t seen any more activity on your socials. You’re a star right now, but these things fade fast if you don’t take advantage. If you do, it will help propel the brand to the next level. I know you want that for yourself and your colleagues. You’ve always been a team player. Summer is still available to jump on a call today.
It feels like she’s right behind me, breathing down my neck. What happens if I can’t take advantage? Or if I’muncomfortable using my life as a tool to propel the brand forward?
I shouldn’t have to brace myself to read an email from my boss. But more pressure and higher standards are an inherent part of reaching the next level. I want to be one of the chosen favorites. Caleb has been one since the beginning, and he gets the best time slots for rides and an incredible bonus every year.
That could be me. If I can turn this situation into higher pay, I’ll be able to chip away at my debt at a faster rate. I have a number in mind. When I reach it, I’ll be able to breathe easier, not so worried that the cushion this job provides will be torn out from under me.
No need, I reply.Fun posts incoming tonight!
I hope this city works its magic, because I need to follow through.
Chapter 8
Las Vegas, Nevada—2,536 miles to Seapoint
When we reach the Strip,I watch the crowds through my window. Many of these people are dressed in their Vegas best, which reminds me that I have nothing to wear to the club tonight. My suitcase is full of sweat-wicking activewear.
“You check in first,” I insist when we get to the hotel’s front desk. “I’m going to run to the bathroom.” I take the long route and wash my hands twice before heading back to meet him, trying to figure out how to convince him to go upstairs without me so I can sneak over to my hotel across the street.
Luckily, he needs the bathroom too. I’ll pretend to check in while he’s gone. While I wait, I play with my ponytail and ignore the nerves congealing in my stomach. “What floor are you on?” I ask brightly when he gets back.
“Nine,” he says. “You?”
“Fifteen.”
We ride the elevator with a group of khaki-clad guys with badges on lanyards around their necks, chatting about some finance convention.
Nate skips the ninth floor. Instead, he exits with me on the fifteenth and grabs the handle of my suitcase. “Have a great night!” I tell the guys on the elevator, attempting to mask my internal panic. Getting caught in this lie would be so embarrassing. I lead him down the hall and stop in front of a random room. “What’s the plan?”
“You settle in, take a power nap, whatever you want.” He shifts his bag from one shoulder to the other. “I’m going to drop my stuff off and then look around. Maybe I’ll find him and we won’t have to go out tonight. Meet here at ten?”
“Let’s meet downstairs instead.” I shuffle through the cards in my wallet, pretending to look for my room key, and we part with an awkward wave. I give him five minutes and then head back to the elevators, to the hotel across the street.
It’s got a retro vibe, like Frank Sinatra once smoked a cigarette here and they’ve tried really hard not to let the smell escape ever since. The color scheme is polluted seafoam and stale cotton candy, and there’s a path to the casino worn into the floral pattern on the carpet. Once I’m in my room, I leave my suitcase in the bathtub in case of bedbugs, set my succulent on the desk, and peel off the bedspread. I use a washcloth to pick up the TV remote and move it to the table in the corner.
The cigarette odor is even stronger here—maybe thisis the actual room where Frank smoked it—but it’s mixed with a powdery air freshener scent. For someone who hates smells, this place is not ideal, but I knew what I was signing up for. At least I’m alone, and the room’s cool air feels like heaven compared to the blistering heat outside.
