“You are so great at mapping out what everyone else should do. But can I share something with you? You’re lukewarm on WIC. I can tell. You’re only pressing it to shut Ma up. If he stops by, Deya said you’re barely even in the room. You leave Ma and Deya to swoon over him while you text with an unsaved number. Like all day, every day.”

Liza was glad Janae was on the phone and couldn’t see her face. Her ears burned at the mention of her frenzied texting. She thought she was being discreet. But in the past month, she’d waited for Dorsey’s thoughtful questions or awkward interpersonal struggles with a little too much breathless anticipation. After all the hateful memes, she helped him deal with the darker, intrusive side of internet fame, and he . . . well, he listened to her. He made her feel like she didn’t have to shout from 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue to be heard—that she could whisper and he would come running. But it was a spell that was broken too easily by reality.

“So do you want to talk about everyone else’s secrets, or do you want to talk about your mystery man?”

“Mystery man? Your heteronormativity disappoints me, Janae.” She fumbled for something else to focus on. “Deya needs to stay out of my business.”

“Is she lying?” Janae challenged.

“Janae, look, I—”

Liza’s phone vibrated in her hand. It was a FaceTime request from Chicho, who never FaceTimed since she thought the camera was “too truthful.”

“Um, it’s Chicho.” Liza was as confused as she sounded. She’d probably realized the enormity of her mistake. Liza would not go into “I told you so”s She was bigger than that.

“Chicho? Her ears must be burning.”

“Yeah, really. I gotta hop off.” Liza pressed the button and answered. “Chicho, is everything okay?”

“No, everything is not okay. The podcast for the inaugural episode is next week, and I have nothing. This is supposed to go on for a year. I don’t have one thing written. This is hard, and I want to quit. I need your help. Can you come?” Chicho’s face showed guileless panic. A small part of Liza had hoped her friend had finally seen through the fraud that Colin was and wanted to come back home, but she just needed help with her six-figure job.

“I can come.”

“Oh, thank god. I can pick you up in a town car. We have a bomb-ass guest room. I want you to stay for the week and hear the first episode.”

“I can’t hang out at your house for a week.”

“Why? Because Mama Bennett is such a charmer?”

“Ugh, she’s been terrible for months.”

“I know. My mom can hear her telling you and me off through the walls.”

“Oh, I saw your dad. He’s looking pretty cleaned up.”