“You know what they say about girls like us—one bite and you never go back.”

She was both moved and deeply confused at being grouped with someone like Ursa; she’d never considered herself in the same realm.

“Because I’m an artist,” she said.

“Yeah, like, I think his other girls were type-A personalities, perfect and superfeminine like Braithe...oh my God, this is sounding so bad. Perfect as in Little Miss Perfects, if you know what I mean. They’d drink one glass of rosé and get wild, and think a fun night in was organizing the closet with their boo. And that’s what she called him by the way—boo.”

“Marchessa?”

“No, Braithe. That’s why Marchessa got angry and said something to her. You know how they’ve all been friends since the beginning of time and all.” She said the last part, Rainy noticed, with a note of bitterness. There was a club within a club when it came to these women; the original group had a secret language and traded private jokes as easily as siblings.

Rainy opened her mouth to say something, but at that moment Braithe swung through the doors, wearing a long black cover-up and dark sunglasses. Rainy kicked Ursa lightly on the foot to let her know they weren’t alone. She had no idea if Ursa would recount their entire conversation for the others later, but at the moment, she needed to process what she’d just been told. Braithe barely looked at them as she dragged a lounge chair next to Ursa’s and dropped into it.

“You feeling okay?” Braithe directed this at Ursa, who gave her the thumbs-up without turning her head. “I’m never drinking again,” she announced before popping in her AirPods. During the four minutes it took for her to get settled, she hadn’t so much as glanced at Rainy.

It felt like a slap in the face after the previous night. Hadn’t they danced arm in arm hours ago? Had she imagined Braithe pleading with her to join them? Perhaps she’d misinterpreted something. Or maybe, after a morning of reflection, Braithe was pissed about the way Rainy had acted at the restaurant.

Her feelings were further validated when, five minutes later, Tara arrived and Braithe took her AirPods out to chat with her.

“Hey,” Rainy said, leaning over to Ursa. “I’m gonna head out for a few hours. If anyone asks, just say I don’t feel well.” Ursa nodded, and Rainy gathered up her things. No one acknowledged the fact she was leaving or said goodbye. It stung worse than she wanted to admit. It took her what seemed like forever to make her way back to their suite, maneuvering around the slow-moving gambling crowd and then waiting for an elevator that wasn’t packed so tightly you could smell your neighbor’s shampoo.