Page 28 of The Second Chance Year

Plus, there are dozens of pictures of Kasumi and her friends looking youthful and vibrant, but still natural at the same time. A group of Xavier’s kitchen staff makes faces at the camera. One of the prep cooks scatters fresh herbs on a plate. Looking at these photos, I realize that Kasumi is a talented chef, but she’s never really been passionate about cooking. Even back in culinary school, she was always more interested in styling and presentation.

“You should do social media professionally,” I tell her, handing back the phone.

“That would be amazing,” Kasumi says, her voice wistful.

I sit up. “Seriously, Kasumi. Whydon’tyou?” In just the minute I was watching, my cake racked up another hundred likes. “You’re easily as good at this as your friend, what’s his name… Devon?” Devon, the social media influencer who hosted the carnival-themed New Year’s party. But I can’t mention that, of course. Because that party won’t happen for about seven more months. “You’re basically doing it professionally anyway,” I point out. “You’re just not getting paid for it. And you’re handing Xavier all that free promotion.”

She bites her lip. “I do think about it sometimes. I just can’t imagine putting up with Xavier’s bullshit forever, you know?” She hops off the bed and crosses the room to open the fridge. “Or the sexism of restaurant work in general.”

Sometimes, I can still feel Rob’s hand sliding up my thigh. I shudder at the memory and push it out of my head. “I know what you mean.”

“Do you?” There’s something in the tone of her voice, an edge to it, that has me sitting up straighter. “It seems like it doesn’t bother you that much.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Kasumi pops the top on a can of seltzer. “Nothing… it’s just…” She sinks back down on the bed. “You didn’t used to put up with all the bullying. But lately, it seems like you’re okay going along with it. We’ve all kind of noticed.”

I toss my magazine on the bed next to me. “Who is ‘we’? The servers? Because I didn’t ask to be sent out on the floor with them, you know.”

“But you didn’t push back, either.”

I slide off the bed and pace across the room. “You know it’s not that easy to push back. All I’ve ever wanted to do is be a pastry chef. I need this job. If I lose this job, I could be blackballed by the whole industry.” I turn to her with my hands on my hips. “Xavier might be a dick, but he’s a dick with a lot of influence.”

Kasumi shakes her head. “That would never happen.”

It did happen!I want to scream.It did happen, and I lost everything!But I can’t. Because it didn’t happen in Kasumi’s reality, in my current reality. It happened in my Very Bad Year. The year I’m doing everything I possibly can to keep from repeating. “You have no idea what could happen.”

Kasumi sighs. “I don’t want to fight with you about this.You’re my best friend. I’m just worried. You don’t seem quite likeyouanymore.”

“I’m still me.” I drop my arms from their defensive position. “Maybe I’m just themewho’s grown up a little. Themewho realized you can’t cause a scene every time you don’t like something. You have to pick your battles.”

Kasumi gazes across the room, her brows knit together. After a beat, she seems to shake it off, jumping to her feet.

“You know what? I’m sorry I brought it up.” She heads for my walk-in closet. “Let’s figure out what we’re going to wear to Sonya’s thirtieth birthday party. Her boyfriend rented out the entire rooftop deck at the Hotel Budapest. It’s going to be epic.”

Kasumi flings the closet door open and then reels backward. “Holy shit.”

“What?” I hurry to her side. “Is it a cockroach? Ihatecockroaches.”

“No.” She looks at me, wide-eyed. “It’s half of Madison Avenue taking up residence in your closet.” She waves her hand at the heap of high-end shopping bags piled on the floor.

“Oh, yeah. That.” I haven’t exactly gotten around to putting away the clothes Alex bought me. When I came home the night he gave them to me, I chucked the bags in my closet and have been ignoring them ever since.

Kasumi is gaping at me. “Are you a Kardashian? Do you have a secret shopping addiction? What’s happening here?” She grabs a handful of bags and drags them out into the room.

“Alex bought them.” I clear my throat. “He, uh, he wanted me to have some nice things to wear to his work events.”

Kasumi’s mouth forms into a silentohhhh. She surveysthe high-end labels scattered all over my floor. “Well, that’s very… sweet.”

“Yeah, itissweet, right?” Why do I sound like I’m trying to convince myself? “It’s just…” I trail off.

The truth is these clothes aren’t me. Other than a Diane von Furstenberg wrap dress I pulled out for one of Alex’s after-work happy hours, I can’t really see myself wearing any of this stuff. The Louboutins may be gorgeous, but there is a very good chance I will fall over in them. And where am I going to carry a Prada bag? The Food Bazaar? Yoga class? Even to an event like Sonya’s birthday party, I’m much more comfortable in a dress from a Williamsburg boutique and a quirky pair of earrings I bought at the Brooklyn Flea.

“It’s just that you might have wanted to pick out your own clothes?” Kasumi fills in the blank.

“Well,” I say, trying for upbeat. “These are the latest styles.”

“You have your own style.” She tilts her head, studying me. “Alex used to like it.”

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