“You look like shit,” she says as soon as I open the door.
Taking a step back, I motion for her to come inside. I’d rather my neighbors not witness the berating I’m certain to face from a hot-tempered Italian. She may be small, but her anger is mighty. And loud.
“Are you sick?” Inez asks as she passes. To my surprise, there’s room for understanding in her tone. “I’ll admit, I’m not happy Gary Brooker called me before you did. I don’t like to be caught off guard. These things are easier to handle when I know what to expect.”
I kick the door closed with my foot before making myself comfortable on the hardest couch ever made. The worst of this hangover is behind me, but the emptiness in my stomach is unnerving and fatigue has yet to settle. Falling back to sleep would be a breeze if Inez weren’t in my living room, yet again, ready to pounce.
“Lucky for us, I’m a good actress and Gary doesn’t know that my favorite girl didn’t confide in me first.” Inez places the palm of her hand against my forehead and then my cheek affectionately, motherly. “You’re not warm. Is it a stomach bug? Should I phone a doctor?”
Her cool hand soothes my tepid skin, and I press into it for a moment longer before saying, “I went out last night and had too much to drink.”
She snatches her hand back and crosses her arms over her chest like a disappointed parent. “For fuck’s sake, Lydia. That’s not like you.”
I close my eyes and rub the throbbing at my temples and say. “Trust me, I know. It won’t happen again. I’ll call Gary in the morning and do what I can to right this wrong. If he doesn’t want to see me again, you can refer him to someone else.”
Inez takes a seat beside me and pats my thigh. She chuckles. “He made it clear he’s considering moving to a whole new building. That man is dramatic.”
“You’re not upset?” I ask. Sympathy isn’t something I seek out, but Inez is the only person in my life able to give it to me. After the emotional hurricane I’ve experienced today, there’s not much more I want than for her to tell me it’s going to be okay.
Except for Talent to tell me it’s going to be okay himself.
But that’s out of the question.
“You’re so perfect, I often forget you’re human.” Inez softens at my side and sighs, dropping her shoulders like she’s unloading the weight of the world. “The other girls are needy and problematic. I oftentimes feel more like a babysitter than a boss. I’m not mad at you, but I find it necessary to say that communication is important.”
“I understand,” I say.
Dog leaps onto the couch at my other side. Our time together has been short, but he’s learning that he’s better tolerated from a distance and I need space if this arrangement is going to work out. If only Inez and Talent would catch on as quickly as Dog has, I may not be drowning in suppressed drama.
“Are you aware there’s an animal in your apartment?” Inez asks. She curls her lip and scrunches her nose, leaning away like she might die if Dog comes any closer. “Get rid of it.”
“I tried,” I answer honestly, side-eyeing the dog. Not since the afternoon Dog Mom brought him back has he left my sight. Our deep trust issues are a two-way street.
Inez sweeps the arms of her sports coat with her hand, complaining about dog hair and allergies. “Do I have reason to be worried about you, Lydia? I can’t get you to have dinner with me during the week, but then I see you like this. Who’s this person you’re going out and drinking too much with?”
Switching my sideways glare from Dog to Inez, I point out, “I never said I went out with anyone.”
“You don’t have to. I was once twenty-six years old and liked to drink until the sun came up with good-looking men and women. These are activities a person your age should experience.” She lifts her eyebrows, but Inez’s gaze falls to the ground and she shrugs before adding, “But to prevent a situation like this from happening again, please take better care to make sure our lines of communication stay wide open. I’m here to protect you, and that’s a challenge when I don’t know what’s happening.”
Shame festers inside of my chest, not mixing well with the humiliation that still reddens my skin. There’s never been anything in my life I felt the need to keep from Inez. Maintaining a private life is one thing, but to purposely omit information about Talent crosses the line between white and bald-faced lies. What I don’t understand is why I want to keep Talent to myself. Is it because Inez was enthralled with him on a business level? If she finds out he’s in contact with me, will she take it upon herself to set him up with another girl who’s less messy than I’ve become?
I’ve made the decision not to indulge myself with him, but the idea of Talent with another girl from Hush enrages me.
“Now that we have that out of the way, have you had a chance to think about Camilla?” Inez exclaims with forced enthusiasm that automatically ignites my suspicion. She takes a hint from the expression on my face and continues, “Can she stay with you until we can find her a place of her own?”
“No,” I reply right away.
“Lydia, do you always have to be so—”
“Why can’t she stay with you?” I fall to my side of the couch, pushing Dog off.
“I don’t let my girls stay with me. It complicates boundaries and creates a confusing work environment. How does it look if I send them out to sleep with clients, only for them to come home and hear me bitch about their dishes in the sink?”
“You let me live with you,” I remind her.
“That was different. How many times do I have to say this?” She rolls her eyes.
“There has to be another girl she can stay with, Inez. Is there not a vacant apartment in this entire damn city?”
“No,” Inez answers in a clipped tone. “There’s not. While you’re out drinking too much, the tech industry is booming in the area and there’s a housing shortage. I can go on and on about the cost of rent and what it’s doing to up-and-coming entrepreneurs like Camilla. It’s covered on the news every day.”
I smile at Inez’s insistence to call us by anything than what we are, like we’re just a bunch of small business owners slinging pussy. Hush is building an empire one orgasm at a time, innocently enough.
Hiding my face into the concrete-like cushion, I mumble, “I don’t watch the news.”
She scoffs. “You binge drink and have an animal. You’re on your way to living an average life, Lydia. In no time, you’ll want to keep up on current events and then you will know these things.”
There’s a sudden rapping on the door, and I shoot upright and quiet Inez. The walls are thin, and I don’t want the trespasser to hear our muffled voices and take it as an invitation to knock harder. Inez is my only regular visitor, and since she’s actively invading my space, I have to assume it’s a solicitor or Dog Mom. I don’t have the energy to tolerate either.
I reach for Inez and use her like a human shield, planning to do what I always do when someone knocks on the door: pretend no one’s home. But the insistent Italian is quicker than me, and she’s outraged someone would bother me at this hour.