Jacqueline couldn’t remember. Whatever it was, Marlow thought, taking a sip of her water, it evidently paid well.
Honey pulled out a chair for Marlow at the kitchen table. As they sat, she called to David: “Would you start us up some cheeseburgers? Marlow’s never had one.”
“Of course I have,” Marlow said.
Honey ignored her. A mousy makeup artist, dark-skinned, all bird legs and face-hiding curls, approached and seized Honey’s arm. “Hi, Elsa, darling,” Honey said to the girl. “Have you met Marlow? She bit me in the face.”
Elsa took a quick, sharp breath, Marlow noticed, but she didn’t look up from her work—she was carefully removing Honey’s device with rubbing alcohol. That was the way to do it painlessly, Marlow remembered, if you weren’t in a rush. “Lovely to meet you,” Elsa said flatly.
“Nice to meet you, too,” Marlow said. “I was provoked.”
“Of course!” Honey laughed. “Oh, I was very provocative back then.”
Elsa didn’t respond. She handed Honey’s device to David, who took it into the kitchen and put it in a drawer. Then she began to rub the white square of skin where Honey’s device had been with a sponge soaked in tan liquid.
“Anyway,” Honey said to Marlow. “You think you’ve had a cheeseburger? You’ve had smashed-up crickets with fortified cashews on a quinoa bun. Who here,” she said, twisting around in her chair, “would kill themselves if you lived in a place where people called that a cheeseburger?” Elsa and David raised their hands, rote, like this was all part of their job.
Marlow felt the onslaught of pettiness creeping in like a headache. “I don’t see what’s so great about meat,” she snapped, “unless you only want to live to eighty.” She heard how humorless she sounded, how much heavier she seemed than all the other people buzzing lightly in the room. But meat—really, it was disgusting. This was something she had always known.
So why was she desperately inhaling the smell—burning, metallic, carnal somehow—that rose out of the sizzling pan on the stove?
David put the burgers in front of them. The patty wept a clear, fast ooze—pinkish-clear, like blood and water—that pooled around its bun on the plate. Marlow’s stomach spasmed, begging her to take it in. She lifted the burger and sank her teeth into the bread and then the beef, all salty give. The cheese stretched luxuriously as she pulled away. She took another bite and then another, tipping her chin this way and that to get good angles on the sandwich. When she saw that the burger had dwindled to a third of its size in her hands, she felt a plummeting sorrow. She looked up and saw Honey watching her, amused but somewhat on guard, as if Marlow was an animal that, against her better judgment, she had brought inside. “My goodness,” she murmured, her eyes twinkling.
“You’re right,” Marlow admitted, through the meat. “It’s—I’ve never.” When she was finished, she wiped her mouth and said, trying to sound casual, “I’m assuming that, like with our burgers, people usually just eat one?”
Honey laughed and signaled to David to bring Marlow another. “Not a bad idea,” she said. “You’ll need your energy for the party tonight.”
Marlow watched David slide another portion onto her plate—glossy bun, bright toppings. It was hard to look away from it. “Party?” she said to Honey. “I’m not going to any party. I’m here to hide.”
Honey shrugged. “Oh, don’t worry. We wear masks.” She waved her wrist, which Elsa had finished working on. The paleness where her device had been was completely blended away. “And no devices. So no one’ll know it’s you, and even if they do, they can’t call you in anyway.”
“I’d rather stay in my room,” Marlow said firmly. Then, feeling rude, the nudge of her duffel bag still at her toes, she added, “I mean, if I have one.”
Honey laughed. “You have a room. But my parties tend to—spread. There isn’t really anywhere to hide. You’re better off masked, among the masses.” She stood up and went into the kitchen. She and David began discussing party details; he showed her a set of cocktail glasses, she told him why they were all wrong.
Marlow bit into her second burger. Masked—she clung to that word. She saw herself killing time, anonymously, at the party—maybe even killing enough time that people outside lost interest in the hunt. She saw herself, if opportunity or necessity called for it, slipping out of Honey’s apartment with some other partygoers, her next move protected by the