“I think so. He didn’t say specifically, but he was, like, whatever happened between Claudia and Chad is their business. He was, like, as we both know, Claudia isn’t exactly a virgin. And then he was, like, getting involved in this would be a mistake, son.’”

“He threatened you?”

“I mean, he didn’t have a gun.”

Actually, thought Edie, he might have. The summer they spent in bed together, Ridley showed her a handgun he’d just purchased. He was representing a football player who’d gotten caught picking up an underage girl in the Bronx, and the girl’s pimp was bothering Ridley, asking for money to convince the girl not to testify. It’s not easy to get a gun permit in Manhattan, Ridley had told her. He insisted she hold it and she remembered it had seemed enormous and frightening in her hands. Like it might spontaneously blast her in the face. She also remembered, with a cold shower of shame, that she’d found it sexy.

“When you saw her did she say anything about a guy she was dating? From school? Trevor?”

“She was with him at my party, but he didn’t seem like her type.”

“What do you mean?”

“He seemed intimidated by her.”

Neither of them said anything for a few seconds. A horn blared outside. Another horn answered, louder and longer. Edie pulled out her phone.

“Who are you calling?” Ben asked.

“My mom.”

EDIE

Ben gave her his phone, and on the way home Edie tried to turn what she’d learned in the last three hours into a path that led to her sister. But there was way too much she didn’t know. When was the video made? And where? And what happened after it ended? Was Trevor involved? Who was Trevor? As the cab rolled past Union Square, Edie tried to ignore the growing anguish of her rapidly swelling breasts and started creating a story: Chad found out that Ridley was fucking their mom, and he decided it was his turn to bone a Castro girl. And Claudia, who’d felt bad for him since breaking his teenage heart, who saw Chad as pathetic when she should have realized he was dangerous, never saw it coming. Her sister was smart about so many things, but who could expect her to be smart about men yet? Edie remembered with a shudder that Claudia had texted her last fall after she’d drunkenly kissed Chad. Edie could have called—should have called. But she didn’t. Instead, she’d sent a series of emojis: grimace, lol, facepalm.

The pressure in her breasts was almost unbearable when she finally got back to Gramercy. She walked in, breathless and bent over, her shirt now soaked with milk. Nathan was in the kitchen, and he wasn’t happy.

“I just gave her a bottle,” he said. “It’s been almost four hours.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”