You’re the babydoll, not me, I want to say. I wonder if I hate Cinnamon because I hate myself, since we are basically the same according to the stars. But as Paris Hilton wisely said, “The stars are blind.”

“You’re the astrologer, right?”

I nod.

“You never finished my reading,” she says. She seems more lucid tonight. Maybe she’s sober, or maybe it’s just my depression throwing everything into sharper relief.

“You never paid me,” I say.

She pulls some cash from her bra.

“I’m off the clock,” I say. I need the money, but not that bad.

“Maybe another time,” she says.

“Maybe,” I say.

I pace around a bit, smile weakly at dancers and patrons I vaguely recognize. I can’t sit in the front because I have no money. So I sit in the corner and stare at people staring at the dancers until I finish my drink and go home.

DAWN.

I can’t believe it has been over a month since Tara dumped me and I still haven’t gotten laid. I am starting to panic. Not only do I have what my court-appointed therapist called an “outsized libido,” but I crave companionship. My days are so depressing. I try to be a positive person, sunny and upbeat, but there is no escaping it: my life right now is very grim.

It’s fall and getting dark before 5:00 P.M. Steph and I aren’t speaking. I’m still furious at her for selling me out at Jay’s Bar. I could have taken both of those women home if not for her. Steph reminds me why I don’t have lesbian friends. I am trying to think about whether I have any friends at all anymore. I think of myself as popular, but I am spending all my nights alone, with Cook’s and 48 Hours, trying to hide my indoor smoking from Karen.

And just when things can’t get any worse, my high school enemy, Lisa Kennedy—not those Kennedys—shows up at the Blind Pig and I have to wait on her. She is comically condescending. “Oh, Dawn!” she says. “You still work here? What a riot … some things never change!” I want to throw her glass of wine in her face, like they do on those Real Housewives shows, and tell Lisa she’s still a cunt with an underbite, but I’ve used up all my opportunities to be bad. Roberto wouldn’t have it. So I swallow my pride and say, “Great to see you, Lisa.”