Page 92 of Seven Days in June

Happy Saturday, gorgeous people! You’re cordially invited to my abode today at 1pm. Bring nothing but your dazzling personalities and most scandalous industry gossip. As usual, this is a private affair. No phones. But! Since this is a day party—parents, feel free to bring your kiddos. I’m designating the downstairs guest bedroom a kiddie wonderland, catered by Dylan’s Candy Bar and Shake Shack. (One thing: I do adore your children, but please discourage them from touching the chintz chinoiserie settee in the lounge. It was a wedding gift from my husband’s godmother, Diahann Carroll.) See you shortly!

EXACTLY NONE OF THE INVITED AUTHORS, VISUAL ARTISTS, WEB WHIZZES, filmmakers, and fashion designers on Cece’s list were surprised that the invite came a mere eight hours before the party started. That was her tradition—and it kept everyone on their toes. “Stayready so you don’t have togetready” was one of her many mottoes.

Her penthouse was littered with modern art, sharp corners, and priceless objets d’art, but it was also a true indoor-outdoor space, with a massive terrace overrun with greenery, and bathroom windows looking out onto the Lower Manhattan skyline. Cece had worked hard with interior designer Lee Mindel to make the space function as no more than a chic backdrop. So when she entertained, thepeoplewere the decoration. In that setting, each of her guests turned into a star. They stood out as unique, special, colorful characters.

Oh, and theywerecharacters. Milling about were some of Artsy Black Manhattan’s loudest personalities. There was Janie, the Story-Topping Memoirist. Craig, the Rascally Gallerist. Tilly, the Giggly Graphic Novelist. Keisha, the Proudly Basic Jewelry Designer. Rasheed, the Intolerably Fine Book Agent. Cleo, the Fashion Photographer Obsessed with Her Blessings. Lenny, the Film Editor Who Pledged Q at Duke and Needs You to Know It.

Everyone was there. The sun shone bright and warm through Cece’s windows. Champagne was flowing. Beautiful waiters served bacon-wrapped asparagus, tiny crab toasts, and parmesan tuiles. Vegans were offered petite Iittala glass cubes filled with fresh-cut fruit. A deejay (hidden in the kitchen) played chill but fun tracks à la Solange, Khalid, and SZA. Some guests were kiki-ing on the terrace, many were strewn across the couches, and the parents weretrulykicking up their heels, because their little Chloes and Jadens were downstairs in their finest Zara Kids ensembles, blessedly out of sight and taken care of.

Eva wore her favorite “summertime sexy” look: a black romper with a strapless bustier top (it made her legs look endless, and her boobs luscious). She’d swept her curls to the side with a vintage pin and added smoky eyes. She was in full siren mode.

She was also loopy as hell after a night of no sleep and endless orgasms. Neither her brain nor her legs were working properly—and she kept dissolving into embarrassing, secret giggles.

Eva loved Shane and he loved her. Nothing else mattered. Certainly not what anyone else thought. But earlier, they’d tried to make a plan for how to approach the day.

Today, 10:28 AM

SHANE:You going to Cece’s?

EVA:I have to, she tricked me.

SHANE:Then I’m going, too. I fucking miss you.

EVA:You saw me this morning.??

SHANE:I’m in withdrawal.

EVA:Same x1000.

SHANE:How do we act, in public?

EVA:Normal!

SHANE:But what’s our normal? Naked?

EVA:Good point. This is weird.

SHANE:We’ll figure it out.

EVA:You know she threw this party to get the tea on us, right?

SHANE:Fucking Cece. You gonna tell her?

EVA:I won’t have to. She’ll know.

And Cece did know, the second she laid eyes on Eva. She was dripping with sex; it wasobvious. Eva couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so light. So unguarded! Shane had fucked away all her defenses. And now she was a mushball. Giddy. Aglow. Swooning from happiness in plain view of forty-five gossipy Blacks. But she didn’t care. Around 3:30 a.m. (after the gelatogasm), she’d had an epiphany.

Something had been unlocked in her. For so long and in so many ways, Eva had been holding herself back. Now she wanted to figure out who she was—and thenbeher,delightin her. Delight in everything! Have an actual life and live it! She vowed to herself to be honest—with herself and with everyone. In pain? Admit it. In love? Claim it. Life was too short to be anything but herself.

Listen to me, she thought.I get one slice of dick and turn into a wide-eyed Disney princess.

She didn’t realize that she’d laughed out loud until Belinda and Cece looked at her with eyebrows raised. They were struggling to maintain a conversation with Belinda’s latest service-industry boy toy. She’d traded in her Trader Joe’s dude for Cain, a copper-skinned snack she’d hired from TaskRabbit to build her IKEA dresser.

Cain was twenty-four, stocky, sexy—and he spoke only in one-word responses.

“So,” started Cece, resplendent in a fitted fuchsia pantsuit and white teddy, “it’s a fun party, right?”

“Vibes,” Cain said, nodding.

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