Since last time they were here someone has spray-painted actual lines for parking spaces directly in front of The Hotel, which makes it feel less magical. Lulu is pleased that Cass pointedly ignores them, pulling her car in so that it straddles two spots. The same black Range Rover, presumably Ryan’s, is parked sideways to take up the remaining three. “Full for the night,” Cass observes as they step out.

Lulu inhales lungfuls of cold, clean air. Last time she was here she was so caught up in the strangeness of it that she couldn’t see details, but now smaller things come into focus: the spray of pink jasmine being trained to grow along The Hotel’s second story, and the soft rustle of its leaves and blooms in the night. She listens to their small sounds and breathes that blank winter air and feels something go loose across her chest.

The lobby is brightly lit, and from outside Lulu can see a reality TV show playing on a flat-screen installed on a wall. A piece of printer paper tacked underneath it reads WARNING: THESE PREMISES ARE BEING MONITORED BY CAMERAS. Aside from the TV and the sign, the room is mostly bare.

Ryan is alone inside. He’s pacing around, smoking a clove cigarette and looking broody. Lulu wishes Bea were here so that they could make fun of him for being such a pretentious hipster together.

Instead, Cass greets Ryan with a kiss on the cheek. He slings a proprietary arm around her shoulders. “Ryan, you remember Lulu,” Cass says. “And this is Owen.”

“Owen Lewis, right?” Ryan asks. “I know your dad.”

Lulu glances at Owen. He hates talking about his dad. They get along—they’re pretty close, actually—but people get kind of weird about it.

“He played my dad’s seventieth last year,” Ryan goes on. “He’s a cool guy.”

“Oh,” Owen says. “Yeah. I remember that party.” His dad’s band isn’t usually the type to do that kind of thing. Lulu wonders how much money Riggs Senior had to spend to get them to agree.

But it’s a good thing, maybe, because the dick-measuring tension that was in the air feels like it deflates, then disappears. They both have dads people sometimes get weird about; tonight, at least, no one is going to make it weird.

Ryan turns to Cass. “So what are we getting up to?” he asks.

“Aren’t you supposed to be hosting us?” she returns.

“Fuck, you’re right, I am!” Ryan laughs. He detaches himself from Cass and looks around the space, frowning at its emptiness. “Hope you weren’t expecting a cool party or anything.”

“Lulu’s been here before,” Cass reminds him.

“We just left a cool party,” Owen says. “Wasn’t that fun, turns out. So we’re definitely open to other ideas.”