She furrows her brows at me and then raises them and pulls out her phone. “Okay, I’ll play your little game.”

“Type in ‘Night + Market Silver Lake.’ It’s the Song location. On Sunset.”

She gives me a look, types it in, and then says, “Got it.”

“Okay, find the menu. They’ve got something called Startled Pig, though they don’t always have it. They have this um … oh, larb, they’ve got like two or three kinds of larb. They have a crispy rice salad—”

“I’m not sure what this is supposed to be proving, except that your obsession with food has started to stretch globally.”

I let out a growl of impatience.

“I need something better. Oh!” I clap my hands together and point at her. “You know Grayson Gamble?”

“The one from that Marvel movie? So fit.”

“Yeah, that’s him!”

“I know you hate that guy.”

“Do I?” I ask, feeling practically airborne with my eagerness to prove myself. Partially because I want someone else in on this with me, but also because if she believes me, she can help me to believe myself.

“You said he looks like a Disney prince that cries after sex.”

This catches me off guard and I say, “Actually, he turned down an Enchanted spin-off and one time he cried during sex, so that was an excellent read.”

“You said he looks like he sits sidesaddle on the loo.”

I laugh at this. “That’s very funny. I can’t confirm it, but I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Because you’re so close, the two of you.”

“I can tell you where he lives. You can zoom in on his house on Google Maps. I can tell you exactly what the house looks like. I actually live there with him. It doesn’t really feel like my house. But that’s its own thing.”

“I’m not saying you would do this, you’d have to be barmy … although, at this point … but, Meg, you could have looked all this stuff up. Memorized some mansion in Beverly Hills, or—”

“Silver Lake.”

“Whatever that is. Or looked up some random menu for a restaurant and memorized it. I don’t know why you’d do that. But you could have.”

“You’re right, you’re right.” I pat my lips with my fingers, thinking. “We could call Grayson.”

“We could call Grayson Gamble?”

“Yes!”

“Even that, while insane, still wouldn’t prove you’re…” She shakes her head and widens her eyes. “Are we really having this conversation, Meggie?”

“Actually, I wouldn’t know his number by heart.” I struggle to think. “Oh, God, I know—when he was thirteen, he burned his house down.”

“Jesus!”

“Everyone was fine, but his parents were obviously miserable about it, and he never told anyone it was his fault.”

She crosses her arms. “How’d he do that?”