“Tired,” I told her, “but—I don’t know. I mean. I love them.”

“They’re more than good…God, it feels so different in here. Less dismal. That’s a real change.”

“Did you hang out in here a lot before?” I asked.

“Not really.” She shook her head, smoke coming out her nose.

“Were you close with her?” I couldn’t help myself but ask, even as I wanted to pull the words out of the air and stuff them back in my mouth.

“Ugh. I don’t want to talk about Carey,” she said, screwing up her face. I tried not to roll my eyes, but goddammit, I was getting sick of this. Carey was everywhere, in everything, but nobody wanted to talk about her. “I’m actually here for me—”

I interrupted her. “Max, I have one question.”

“Fine.”

“Why did Carey stop making sculptures?”

“I have no clue. Tyler knows, for sure. You should ask him.” She looked annoyed.

“Fine. What is it?”

“I have a favor to ask. Fleur, my writer, who was at the party, I don’t think you met her, anyway, she’s coming to live up here in a little bit and then we’re gonna work on the book for a month. You have to tell her everything. About me, I mean. And I’m going to need your help with all my photos.”

I climbed down from the ladder, grabbed another jar, and climbed back up. “I don’t think you want me to do that.” I tapped the jar, and a shower of blue powder rained down onto Humility.

“I’m a straight shooter.” She winked. “I’ve got nothing to hide.”

“Okay. What about the year you had cornrows?”

“Hilarious. Go ahead.”

“The dad you fucked in the coatroom at Helen what’s-her-name’s bat mitzvah.”

“Finger fucked. But yes, sure. That guy was such a pro,” she said wistfully.

“What’s he doing now?”

“He’s in prison for tax evasion.”

“And Petey?”

“Absolutely,” she said happily. “There’s a whole chapter on Petey.”

“Charlie?”

“Well. No. Ha. I mean, the, like, adult part of my life isn’t even a good story.”

I exhaled heavily. “I have so much to do,” I told her. “I need to keep going. I don’t have time for your stuff, to be honest. I’m sorry—until these are ready to sit and dry, I’m busy all day all the time. I have less than a week to paint, but then I’m around.”

“Then let’s get you an assistant,” she said, pulling out her phone and texting rapidly. “Pine City can always put up more people.”

“No. Max, don’t worry about it. My last assistant got a way better job. Goat Group started giving health insurance.”

“Are you sure? It’s no big deal.”

“Nobody can know about this.”

“That’s what NDAs are for. I want you to feel supported.”