“Did you come as a vampire strawberry?” she asked me with dubious delight.

“Something like that,” I said.

“Right on,” said Dee. “Unsexiest costume in West Hollywood is actually a distinction when you think about it.”

“I’m trying not to,” Yegina said as she gazed around the decor with a puzzled frown.

“It’s bloody offensive, isn’t it?” Dee whispered. “Turning Johnny Rotten into a cocktail,” she said. “But the drinks. Are. Amazing. Try a Captain Sensible.”

“Any updates from Janis about the crisis in Valdivia?” I said.

Dee’s face hardened.

“Oh no,” I said.

“The crisis in Valdivia has been settled,” she told us, her voice icy. “No further investigation by the school. Early retirement for Hal. A golden parachute. A certain student banned from campus but allowed to finish his degree. Apparently, Hal was very persuasive, especially with the collectors he’s helped to get bargain prices on the artwork of future stars.” She made air quotes with her hands. “‘We don’t want to take down a giant over one simple error of judgment,’” she said in a mocking tone. “That’s what the chair told her. And they were all thrilled about the new museum downtown.”

“What a crock,” I said.

Yegina was frowning and picking at her gauzy sleeves. She had fallen for Hal’s persuasion, too. And his vision. It was hard not to.

“This isn’t Janis’s scene,” said Dee, gesturing around the dim bar. “Or I wouldn’t have left her alone tonight. She was going to tuck in and read her biography of Georgia O’Keeffe, but when I left, she was just staring at the blank wall.”

There wouldn’t be any investigation. No news reports. Shoe Cathedral would open, to strong reviews. The school year would unfold, Erik would graduate, Layla would have her open studio, Zania would gripe her way through undergrad life, and in March, a year from the night Brenae shot herself, Hal would announce that it was time for him to step down. The tributes and venerations would start. The great director. Decades of mentorship. Hundreds of protégés expressing their gratitude and praise. And then a second tide of press would rise about the Goetz Museum, lofting Hal once again. Meanwhile, where would Janis be? Finishing her chemo, or getting sicker. Facing another budget shortfall. Listening to Bas propose layoffs and cuts. She had lost. I could not think of what to say.

“How are you holding up?” Yegina slid her arm around Dee, giving her a squeeze.

“I’m all right.” Dee blinked. “Getting used to gossiping about radiation and lymph nodes instead of exhibitions and openings.”

Her inked eyes began to glisten.

“Listen,” Yegina ordered her, “this is your night. Enjoy yourself for all of us.” She gestured around the crowded bar, her wing bobbing. “Look at everyone here for you.”