Marlin caught my eye from where she stood with Jes and Jack, and she waved, then pointed at Tyler and made the okay symbol with her fingers, raising her eyebrows as if asking a question: Did he tell you about the space?

I gave her a thumbs-up and sighed. “All right,” I told him as Max caught my eye and waved. “I should say hi.”

“I’ll go with you,” he repeated.

The stairs, a hard torrent of cement bars spiraling to the ground floor, were difficult to descend in Cady’s wooden heels and I went slowly, clutching the bumpy tube of the brass banister. Tyler stayed a step or two behind. At the bottom, Max was waiting for me with her arms held open. I could count the ribs beneath her skin.

“Hello, sweet friend,” she said to me, hugging me close. “Hello, Ty,” she said to him.

“Hiya, Maxy.” He kissed her on the cheek.

“You bought my painting,” I said. “It looks nice.”

“Good surprise or bad surprise?” Max bit her lip in childish anticipation.

“Good.” I tried to smile. Whatever Max and Charlie had paid for it would never see the inside of my bank account.

She swiveled to Tyler. “Did I hear that you sold Idi Amin’s lungs last week?”

“Maybe, maybe not.”

“Let me know when you have another dictator,” she said as she made eye contact with someone more important than either of us. She kissed us each on the cheek. “Try the ketamine,” she said, pointing to a bowl. “Find me later. Let’s talk, okay?”

I never got a chance to hand her the bottle. Flustered, I turned to walk upstairs, back to the food, but Tyler stopped me.

First he took the bottle and handed it to a server. “Put this in the cellar,” he said. “It’s through there.” He pointed to the kitchen, then turned back to me. “You’re sweet,” he said. “Nobody else bothered.”

“I noticed,” I said, trying to swallow my pride. I hadn’t realized that Max threw the kind of parties you didn’t bring gifts to. I turned around in a circle, trying to find a way out.

“Don’t split. You heard our hostess,” he chided. “Try the ketamine!”

I smiled—barely.

“It’s like a vitamin,” he said, “except it’s, you know, an animal tranquilizer.”

That I laughed at. Still—I held out, trying not to let him see the warmth I felt. “You’re going to let me borrow a studio?” I asked insistently. “Tomorrow? Because if not—I shouldn’t even be here. I should be packing.”

“Scout’s honor.” He held up three fingers.

“That’s Girl Scout’s honor.”

“Isn’t that better?”