to him, when the reality of what had just happened finally sank in. She put a finger over his lips and pulled him back inside the apartment. “Never say that again, do you understand me? Listen to me, Sal. Are you listening?”
He nodded, his eyes glazed. He’d had a couple of beers, but they’d been consumed at least an hour before. He wasn’t drunk. He was in shock.
“We were inside the living room, and you went to use the bathroom before driving me home. I went outside to find your dad to say goodnight, and when I didn’t see him, I looked over the railing and saw his body. I called nine-one-one—”
“Marin, no—”
“I called nine-one-one,” she repeated, taking the cordless phone off the charger, “because a terrible accident happened. Your drunk fucking father fell off his fucking balcony. You were nowhere near the balcony when it happened. Do you understand?”
He nodded, and she made the call, and the cops bought the story. Several people at the party earlier attested to Sal’s father being drunk and stumbling around. He’d had a history of injuring himself while intoxicated—once, when Sal was in high school, he fell into a mirror when nobody was home, and cut his own face.
She and Sal broke up for good a month after that. Neither of them admitted that Sal’s father’s death was the thing that finally fractured them. How could they, when Sal refused to talk about it? But it was the last straw in a romantic relationship that, as Marin told Lorna, was never meant to be.
Her email alert chimes, bringing her back to the present. It’s a confirmation from her financial adviser that the money’s been received on the other end. It’s official. No refunds, as Julian said. It’s done.
If letting go of her little boy’s hand in a busy farmers’ market is the worst thing Marin has ever done, then this is the second worst. Except this time, she’s done it on purpose.
She checks the Shadow app. There have been no new texts between Derek and his mistress since he tried to end the affair this morning, only to change his mind a few minutes later. It’s the grief talking, of course it is, because the Derek who’s been sleeping with a twenty-four-year-old is not the man she married. Everyone handles loss differently. Marin screwed up. Derek screwed up. She can’t fix her mistake. But she can fix Derek’s.
What else did Lorna say to her? I believe in forgiveness.
McKenzie Li deserves no more of her time or energy, not one more second, not one more ounce. Marin presses the icon on the Shadow app until the little “x” appears, then taps it decisively. A notification window appears.
Delete “Shadow”?
Deleting this app will also delete its data.
She hits Delete. Then she sends Vanessa Castro a quick email.
VC — It’s no longer necessary to investigate the affair. I’m handling it.
Thanks,
MM
The investigator replies almost immediately.
Understood — VC
And then, because she’s already showered and dressed, and since what’s done can’t be undone, Marin goes to work.
PART TWO
I’m only faking when I get it right
—SOUNDGARDEN
Chapter 15
Kenzie gives the ramen noodles a stir, keeping an eye on the timer so she doesn’t overcook them. Even an extra ten seconds can turn them into mush. She has nine more packages of instant ramen in the cupboard, as they’re always five for a dollar at the Cash n’ Carry, and they have to last her a week. Tonight’s flavor: beef.
The noodles will make her puffy tomorrow, but she doesn’t care. She has at least three Instagram-worthy photos in her phone from her hotel stay, none of them selfies. She knows her angles and she’s good with her camera timer, and with a little editing, they’ll be ready for posting.
Derek asked her once what the point of it all was, and why she cared so much if fifty thousand strangers liked her. But it’s not about being liked. People can hate you because you’re famous yet still care what you’re up to, who you’re dating, what you’re wearing, where you’re going. A hate-follow is still a follow. It’s about visibility, the importance of being seen. These days, who you are online is almost as good as who you are in real life.
“But why?” he’d pressed, confused. “Do you make money from this?”
“I’ve gotten some products for free,” she said. “But if I can get my account up to a hundred thousand followers, I might start getting paid to advertise. I know an influencer who