Page 102 of Seven Days in June

“My movie! Okay.” She cleared her throat, weirdly nervous. “Well, I write a series about a witch and a vampire. A producer, Sidney Grace, bought the film rights. And she’s fantastic. But our director wants to make the characters white, to be more mainstream. It’s crushing, actually. But hey, that’s showbiz.” Eva wiggled jazz hands, trying to make her career setback a little joke.

“Awful!” exclaimed Jenna.

Eric shook his head vehemently. “Nah. Nope. Unacceptable. Did you write the script?”

“Yeah, about a year ago.”

“Good. That gives you more power than you think you have.” Eric pulled out his phone and started scrolling through his contacts. “Me and Sidney go way back. I’m about to text her right now.”

“Wait, why?”

“Because I’m directing yourblockbuster, son,” he said with a sunny grin. “I’m between projects. House-husbanding is hard; I need to get back to work.”

“Our son is an adorable menace,” said Jenna, by way of explanation.

“And I’m a sci-fi geek,” he said. “Let’s do it. Let’s make some Black fantasy shit.”

“Let’s. Do. It.” Eva clapped on each word, bursting with creative excitement.

Just then, Jenna grabbed Eric’s arm and pointed across the room. “Honey, am I hallucinating, or did I just see Otis running around up here? Aren’t all the kids downstairs?”

“They have a babysitter,” said Eva, trying to sound assuring. “My daughter’s helping, too. She’s twelve and really responsible.”

“Oh shit,” said Eric. “No, that’s him. Unpacking some woman’s purse. Gotta run, more later…” And then he hurried off.

Jenna rested a hand over her eyes, in full-blown maternal exhaustion. “I knew bringing Otis wouldn’t end well. My son’s over there pickpocketing a Tony winner.”

Actually, thought Eva, adjusting her glasses,now he’s mooning her.

“Did you say your daughter’s twelve? Is that her out on the terrace with…Wait, is that Shane Hall? As inEight?”

Eva stood on her tiptoes, and over the crowd, she spotted Audre and Shane leaning against the railing, with their backs to the party—clearly deep in conversation. She whispered something to him, and he dissolved into shoulder-shaking, eye-crinkling laughter.

And for the third time that week, she said, “Jesus, Audre.”

“Well, well, well,” said Eva, tapping Audre and Shane on the shoulder. They both spun around, wearing identicaloh shitfaces.

“Hey!” said Shane.

“Hi!” said Audre.

“Audre, what are you doing here? You’re supposed to be downstairs, helping to watch the kids. Now there’s a little boy up here running around naked. This is an adult party. You had one job!”

“Yeah, that’s Otis,” said Shane. “Audre told me about him. What a terror.”

Audre shot her mom a brilliant, braces-laden smile.

Eva wanted to be annoyed. But she couldn’t help being tickled—and touched—seeing Shane and Audre bond. And without her, no less. What could they possibly have been talking about?

Maybe it was better that she didn’t know.

“Mom, guess what? I invited Shane to our brunch tomorrow.”

Now, this, she never would’ve guessed. Their annual pilgrimage to Ladurée was a sacred ritual. Eva actually took the time to carefully plait Audre’s hair into a majestic braided crown. And she put on Fenty bronzer!

This was an astonishing break in tradition.

No friend had ever attended. No auntie. No man. Audre looked forward to this fancy, private moment with her mom all year. Eva never thought she’d see the day when Audre would extend an invite to anyone—especially a guy she’d known for two days. A guy whom she’d brutally cross-examined in her kitchen.

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