“I say we play a little game.” Janae, wonder of wonders, was up and not yet pulled into the darkness. Maybe she really was happier. Or the fake champagne had done its job. Her lipstick was completely kissed away, and her bra strap sat high on her shoulder, a sign of overcorrection.

“How about Never Have I Ever?” Jennifer suggested.

“No,” Liza and Dorsey said at the same time again, then looked at each other.

“We don’t know these people, Janae. We maybe shouldn’t tell all of the family secrets just yet,” Liza said with a look to her sister.

“And I have zero tolerance for games,” Dorsey added.

“Gosh. What are we up to now? How many things are we going to add to this list of things Dorsey doesn’t tolerate?” Liza asked.

“DJs,” Dorsey said. His delivery was so dry that she once again did not know if he was joking or serious.

“Okay, let’s play a game,” Liza said, never taking her eyes off Dorsey. “I think hide-and-seek is just the thing to—how did you put it, Jennifer?—get the blood flowing.”

ACTION OVER DELIBERATION

I hope you all are staying safe in this weather. thank you for joining me tonight. It’s so weird to call into my own show, but I am stuck, y’all! We’re gonna play a prerecorded quiet storm session for y’all. I hate that I can’t be live. But you can! Show me your winter cozy poses and make sure you use the hashtag #Bennettblizzard so I can see all of your pics,” Liza said.

An hour later, Liza was huddled underneath a desk, enjoying herself despite the circumstances. Dorsey sat out the game in favor of reading what was no doubt a terribly pretentious book. But Liza thought everyone was having more fun because of it. Even Jennifer had an impish grin on her face as she ran to hide, instantly looking more like her more carefree brother in that moment. Liza struggled to keep her eyes open, because every time they closed, she saw Dorsey’s trembling thumbs over her collarbone. What if Jennifer had not come in when she did? Would she have moved his big shaking hands over her breast? Would he have taken her cues and pushed her against that damn floor-to-ceiling window? She wasn’t against a rough, quick tumble. Liza, he’s not the hot waiter. He’s the rich asshole who is destroying your neighborhood. Focus. She found it strange that she had scarcely thought of WIC this whole time. Normally, when she liked a guy, she would be halfway through their imaginary wedding ceremony by now and constantly thinking of him. But her fear for her sister was foremost in her mind. She was glad she had come to at least intercept the liquor.