“So I started going to Subtropical in hopes of running into him. I’d do my readings there and make my memes and write my articles.”

“So cool,” Cinnamon says. “I’m so in awe of what you do.”

“Oh my god, don’t be,” I say. “Astrology is a scam.”

Cinnamon laughs so hard she almost slips off her chair. “I love that you say that after I paid you three hundred dollars,” she says. “Seriously, I love it. We’re both scamming the shit out of people.”

I laugh and feel good, like my terrible interaction with Beau earlier didn’t even happen. Or it happened, but it doesn’t mean as much.

Cinnamon pulls what appears to be a vape pen from her parka pocket and takes a hit. I start salivating a little. As she exhales, she offers it to me, and I practically snatch it.

“Thank god,” I say. “I’m more of a smoker than a drinker, but I haven’t been able to afford weed recently.” I take a big hit and feel my muscles start to relax.

“So that’s why you upcharged me,” she says. “Some of the girls told me you did their readings for free.”

I feel guilty, and the weed makes me self-conscious and compounds the guilt, and I think Cinnamon can see it on my face, or she can feel it, because she is a Scorpio stellium, or because she is a human being.

“It’s totally fine,” she says. “I understand the freelance hustle.” She pauses. “I made so much money that night, and you really helped me understand myself.” She didn’t have to say that.

“I’m glad,” I say, and I mean it. “I gave the free readings a while ago, back when I was making money.”

“It ebbs and flows,” she says.

“Sure does,” I say. “Oh my god, quick sidebar. My parents are super humiliated by me and my lack of steady income, so I told them I have a salaried job as the astrological consultant for SpaceX.”

This time Cinnamon laughs so hard she does slide off her chair. She is on the floor, writhing unapologetically. It feels so good to make someone laugh hard enough to lose bodily control. And I hadn’t realized how funny my lie is until now. I never realize I’m being funny until someone falls off their chair laughing.

“That is so fucking good,” she says. She goes back behind the bar and grabs us two more beers, even though I’ve taken only a few sips of mine. There is a bartender now and a few other patrons, and I wonder when they had slipped in. The bartender doesn’t seem to mind that Cinnamon is taking beers without paying. He just slaps her ass.

I take another sip of beer, which tastes better now that I am high.