“And I would . . . recite them?” I goggled at her.

“Hmmm . . .” Her eyes drifted. “Maybe one of the outdoor shots—”

The door opened and we both spun around, but only Nancy walked through, a vague smile planted on her face. “He needs a minute.”

Nora’s smile went very tight. “What about Ruby? Helpful?”

Nancy shook her head, not looking at me. “It’s great overall, but I think it undermines this particular appeal.”

I stared between them with creeping embarrassment. “No interview?”

Nora glanced at Nancy. Nancy didn’t react.

“You’re off the hook,” Nora said. “So thoughtful of you to offer, though.” I hadn’t offered. “I love the way you’ve been doing your hair lately, you know. So chic.” It was in a ponytail.

I let her squeeze my hand, once, tightly. Her fingers were clammy.

We stood leaning against the gray fleur-de-lis wallpaper until the door opened, and a strange parallel-universe version of Oscar walked through.

No jacket. No bow tie. Black jeans, a blue hoodie, a white T-shirt, a sleeveless Washington Wizards jersey. He looked like a basketball fan. From DC.

I felt my brain flipping through scenarios, none of them even remotely adequate. What were they thinking?

“Perfect.” Nancy patted him on the back and started to lead him to the elevators.

Under Nancy’s touch, Oscar’s shoulders drew in, almost imperceptibly.

“I am . . . confused,” I said.

“Don’t be!” Oscar shot me a smile as he walked by, but his eyes didn’t make it to mine. It was like he didn’t want me to look at him. “It’s cool, Ruby, I’m fine.”

I started to follow, but Nora held up her hand.

“Like I said, sweetheart, we’ve got it covered, but thank you! There’s food in the lounge, if you’re hungry. Strudel!”

I was too thrown to argue or force myself into the elevator with them, so I turned back to the office. Dad was sitting in the same spot, moving a glass paperweight from one side of his desk to the other.

“What the hell, Dad.” I shut the door behind me. “He doesn’t look anything like himself.”

Dad grunted. “He will at the concert. This is just one of those things.”

“Why would he even go along with this?” I turned, dizzy. “Because this Nancy person said so, and that’s it? Fall in line?”

Then I looked at Dad, realizing. They’d been alone for a good ten minutes.

“What did you say to him?”

Dad flipped through loose pages on his desk, chopping them into a neat stack. “I told him it was all a pile of shit, but part of the job is shoveling it. I said the PR people want a Cinderella story and that’s what we’ve got to deliver. He asked me if I’d do the same thing and I said absofuckinglutely.”