“You really are a Scorpio stellium,” I say. “Withholding as fuck.” I inhale from her cigarette and blow a tube of smoke into the midnight sky.

“I thought you said astrology was a scam,” she says, taking the cigarette back.

“It is.”

We follow the throngs from the Mirror Box to Jax’s apartment. The hallway is jam-packed. I scan for Beau, but there are too many bodies. Cinnamon and I try to push through and get splashed with droplets of liquor and beer, but the molly makes it all feel good and jolly. We finally funnel into the main room. There is a disco ball and a packed dance floor, and the bass is pulsing.

“What do you think?” a woman shouts in my ear. “Is Next cheugy? Will I become a sweatshop lingerie model?”

I assume she’s talking to someone else.

“Let’s get a drink,” says Cinnamon. She grabs my hand and pushes the catalog model aside. And then the crowd seems to part like the Red Sea, and I see him, the man of my dreams, pouring some ice into a Solo cup.

We approach.

He sees me and smiles. “Ice?” he asks in a sort of funny tone, and I realize he’s making a joke about my nickname.

“Ideally with some liquor in it,” Cinnamon says. I like that she talks for me.

“Whiskey, okay?” Beau asks. He fills another cup with ice.

“Yeah,” Cinnamon says. “But not too much.” She puts her arm around me and my skin tingles. “We can’t stay long.”

I’m disappointed, but I also respect that Cinnamon is making me seem desirable and evanescent. She’s dangling me in front of Beau so that she can snatch me away, like I do with a piece of turkey to Lydia when I’m feeling sadistic, and he will be absolutely desperate for more.

Beau hands us our cups and I take a sip of mine. I’m surprised that it tastes good. Cinnamon is right: we should be on molly all the time.

“Eyyyyy.” The suspected Leo I always see with Beau appears out of nowhere and puts his arm on Beau’s shoulder. “I recognize you,” he says, but he isn’t looking at me. He’s looking at Cinnamon. “From Mirror Box.”

Cinnamon morphs into the babydoll. “I recognize you too,” she says with a soft voice, then bites her lip.

“Jax,” he says, kissing Cinnamon’s hand. “I’ve seen you dance a million times, Cinnamon, and I have some notes. You have a lot of potential.”

Beau seems embarrassed by his friend’s gall, but Cinnamon is unfazed. “Oh?” she coos, “I’d love to hear them sometime over a lap dance.” She sticks her tongue in Jax’s ear and he squeezes her ass. Cinnamon motions toward me. “This is my girl Ice.”

“Ice.” Jax raises his eyebrows. “I hope you stay away from the border with that name.” He cackles.