on the table. Her head sat in the curve between her thumb and index finger, the rest of her fingers spread, blocking Aston out of her sight. Aston kept rocking back so that the front legs of his chair reared into the air. He was frowning mournfully—until he saw Danny. He pulled him into a headlock. “Looking fresh, my man!” he shouted. Craig and Melissa looked up from their phones at Aston’s exclamation, reviewed Danny, and locked eyes with each other. They didn’t say anything to Orla, who sank into a chair next to Mason. The second her butt hit the seat, Mason turned to her and said, “Nope.”
She spread her napkin across her lap. “What?”
“Orla.” Mason took a forceful glug of his wine and grimaced as he swallowed. “I’m not putting him on the show.”
“I’m not asking for him to have a starring role.” Orla sipped her water—it was flat. She found a bottle of Pellegrino and tipped it into a random empty glass. “I just wanted him to look presentable. So you wouldn’t have to shoot around him.”
“And thank you so much for that,” Mason said. “But I’m gonna keep shooting around him.”
“Shh,” Orla hissed. She thought she saw Danny’s ears stiffening toward their conversation. “Why?” she whispered, feeling desperate.
Mason seized a roll—deep brown, with floured white diamonds—from the basket on the table. He tore it apart. “What Danny’s doing to you?” he said. “I’ve seen it a million times.”
“What he’s doing to me?” Orla said. She gestured at Danny, the boy from home, redone in things that she had paid for to make him look like part of her life. “Does it really look to you like he’s running the show?” she said to Mason.
Mason dipped his chin apologetically. “Of course it does,” he said. “Of course.”
She wanted to protest, but Danny was changing seats, making his way around the table toward her. Before he reached her side, she leaned close to Mason, her hair almost falling into his glass, and said, “If you don’t need him, maybe you don’t need me, either.”
Mason stared back plaintively. “That’s a possibility.”
* * *
Floss and Orla and Aston and Danny rode home after dinner together, silent as Amadou wound the SUV north. Floss and Aston sat with space between them in the middle, heads trained out their respective windows, while Orla bounced in the deep back, under Danny’s arm.
A red light stopped them outside a shop with a pink-and-white marquee. The headless mannequin propped in the window wore a crisp navy suit. Danny crossed his hand over Orla’s neck and pointed, pushing her head uncomfortably to one side, at the dummy. “I like that,” he said. “Maybe we’ll check that place out tomorrow.”
Floss turned around to face them, her flawless features washed in the ghost-story glow of her phone. “You really do have some nice new things, Danny,” she said. “Some real investment pieces.” She paused. “Now, tell me again. You work in a big fridge, right?”
Orla’s face began to heat.
“You get paid by the hour?” Floss pressed.
“Shut up, Floss,” Aston snapped.
Danny remained cool. “That’s right,” he said. “I manage a cold-storage warehouse. But if this is what you’re getting at—yeah, the clothes were a gift from Orla. A very generous gift.” He kissed Orla’s ear.
The car stopped outside the girls’ building. Amadou got out and shut his door softly. They waited in silence for him to come around the other side.
Floss was wearing a jacket hung with ivory feathers. The plumage trembled as she raised her finger in the air and moved it in a circle. “All of this,” she snapped, “is a gift from Orla. You’re in our world as her plus-one. Don’t forget that.”
“Ignore her,” Orla ordered him. “She’s jealous.”
And there it was, crushing her: Danny’s face didn’t look like it should. He wasn’t offended or embarrassed. She could swear that he almost looked hopeful. All of a sudden, she knew exactly what he thought she meant. The thing she had tried to keep from knowing—he’s using you to get to her—came tunneling up, unstoppable.
“Not jealous of me, for being with you,” she said, correcting his mistake. “Jealous of you, for being with me. She used to have me all to herself.”
Floss was smirking. She had seen Danny’s face, too.
The door of the Escalade clicked open. Floss got out, then the boys, then Orla. She took Amadou’s hand. Adrenaline made her feet shake in her latest pair of shoes. They had a column, running up the front,