“Emily, can I ask you a question? Why the hell do you work here?” I hoped she understood what I meant. She was clearly brilliant. I knew I only wanted to be here as long as it took to save up enough to get back to the city—three, four months. After all, I was just pretending. But what did Emily want? What mantra got her through her days?

She rolled her head in a circle, stretching her neck. As she did, a gold cross on a chain came untucked from the neckline of her shirt, and she reached for it without looking and tucked it back in. “Great question. I didn’t go to college. So this, believe it or not, is the best I can do around here. There are hardly any jobs to begin with, now that everything on the other side of town is shutting down. Plus, it helps me keep up my acting skills. I have to pretend that the people who come here don’t make me want to rip my fucking head off. Present company excluded.”

“I’m flattered,” I said.

“You’ll see what I mean.”

“Lily?” Deidre called. Her voice echoed from the hair salon. “Please come into my office.”

“Time for you to get another lesson in Ass-Kissing 101.”

“I think that’ll make my hangover come back.”

“She can make you feel the misery of every hangover you’ve ever felt, all at once.”

As I walked back to Deidre’s office, I pictured Emily on a stage or a film set. The way her face could shift from one mood to the next, the way she was conscious of how she moved through space, her gestures precise, her posture perfect, the way she so easily pretended to click through the books when someone asked her to schedule an appointment, so that they’d feel lucky and grateful when she managed to book them a space, like they’d received a special favor—all the while I was watching the empty slots scroll by and had to turn my face away so that I didn’t give anything up. Was she like that with everyone? What secrets did she hide with her blunt humor, that quick wit? I wondered what aspects of her life, her personality, she wasn’t letting me see.