“Riggs’s real estate empire was, in some sense, built on the back of Connie Wilmott’s beauty; the money she earned from that film funded his earliest forays in that world. Interest in Bluebeard has remained feverish in part because of her reluctance to appear in public to support or discuss it. Her silence has allowed a cult-like obsession with the film and with her to build up. Instead of remaining a woman, Connie became an icon onto which fantasy is eternally and seamlessly projected.”

Lulu is more awake than ever. She picks up her phone again. Bea just messaged her a picture of herself in her hotel room with the texts:

so switzerland is boring and cold everyone here really is a blond GIANT the skiing is good but that’s all there is everything is just so . . . white

Lulu doesn’t know what Bea means by that—if she’s talking about the whiteness of the mountain, or the people. Bea talks about race so infrequently that Lulu forgets Bea isn’t white sometimes, which she told Bea once, and Bea didn’t like. So she doesn’t know what to say to this. If she makes a joke about snow, will she be missing the point again? Or by not saying anything, is she chickening out, the way she did with Ryan at The Hotel when he was talking about Gypsies and she basically let him off the hook?

Considering this, Lulu scrolls up idly and sees something that makes her flinch: The last time she messaged Bea was the night of her party. It’s been a full week and Lulu has been radio silent on her best friend. Shit.

Ughhhhhhhhhh I’m sorry, she writes back.

Bea responds right away. I guess LA must be pretty interesting

I’m sorry about that too, B
I promise
you haven’t missed anything

You and Cass been hanging out a lot?

Lulu stares at her phone screen. She doesn’t know what Bea means by that.

Bea sends I haven’t seen you in any of the usual suspects’ flashes as if to explain herself.

Yeah I guess, Lulu sends, because she doesn’t know what else to say.

When the Sloane Flash went up, Bea messaged, Heyyyy what’s going on? everything okay, and Lulu sent back, I’m okay, I promise. She was lying, but she wasn’t not-okay in any ways Bea could help with.

She didn’t want help, because she didn’t want it to be happening. Nothing about the Sloane Flash made sense in Lulu’s life, which she had constructed so carefully. In a fraction of a second, she had undone all of her work to make herself a pretty girl, with pretty friends, and a nice, hot boyfriend—all of her efforts to only ever be seen in this one particular, legible way.