“Not really. I just order the same thing every time, and you’re going to love it, too. A fried biscuit with avocado, a medium fried egg on top, and their special sauce. It’s Korean or something, which is weird for a country cooking kind of place, but it’s f—it’s good. Trust me.”

I frowned. That didn’t sound appetizing at all, but it was a free meal and better than turkey meat on plain wheat bread, so I wasn’t going to complain.

I handed Jojo my camera, and she told me all about exposure, aperture, shutter speed, and ISO. She had me play around with the different creative modes on the camera—the P, A, S, and M—showed me how they were used, and then educated me on why they were superior to the icon modes.

By the time I scarfed down the weird but delicious Jojo biscuit, I was already adjusting the camera and taking a few shots of the café and outside.

Jojo clicked through them, shaking her head. I bit my nails, waiting for judgment.

“Ridiculous,” she said. She handed me back my camera. “You really have an eye. Wick is going to shit, because he’s getting ready to lose his assistant.”

“No,” I said, waving her away. “Really?”

Jojo grinned, putting her elbows on the table and leaning in. “Really. You’ll still be helping at the office and cleaning his coffee table, I’m sure, but you’re going to be great. I can tell.”

“I’m not a journalist. I can’t write. I paid someone to do my papers in college.”

Jojo made a face. “You had to write papers for a degree in ceramics?”

I closed my eyes, embarrassed. “Yes.”

Jojo cackled, and I laughed with her, really laughed, for the first time in a long time.

“Thank you,” I said, trying to catch my breath. “I didn’t know I could laugh like that sober.”

Jojo rested her chin on the heel of her hand. “I know you’re supposed to be some kind of family fuck-up, but you’re not that bad. I can’t imagine you’ve changed that much in a month.”

“It’s amazing what detox and responsibility will do for a girl,” I said, only half-teasing.

“You’ve been doing so well. Not one slip-up.”

“It’s hard to drink or buy weed when you’re broke. And even if I had, I wouldn’t tell my boss.”

“I’m not your boss, and you’re not a liar. It’s not just about the money, Ellie, and it’s kind of sad, because I’ve been watching you work so hard, you’re still waiting to get it wrong.”

“That’s not true,” I said, shaking my head and fidgeting with my water glass.

Jojo breathed out a small laugh, and then began gathering her things. “Let’s go. You have work to do.”