Now, having nice clothes is imperative to both of her jobs, making most of her wardrobe tax deductible. Red Warren has a dress code, but she also does online modeling by posting on an app called Rule of Thirds, whose acronym is unironically pronounced rot. It started off as a hobby until a brand reached out, asking if they could license some of her photos. Things escalated fairly quickly after that. Her hobby became her side hustle, enabling her to drop literal thousand-dollar payments on the principal balance for her student loans.

Joy packs up Pepper’s overnight bag as well. Four days is too long to leave her alone.

The sun is starting to rise when she knocks on her neighbor’s door forty-five minutes before she’s supposed to be at Malcolm’s house.

Mrs. Norman, an early riser, squints at Joy through a crack in the door. “Joy, baby? Is that you?”

“Yeah,” she says. Pepper meows inside her carrier. “And Pepper.”

She opens the door, adjusting her robe soon after. Mrs. Norman is old enough to be Joy’s grandma and kind of looks like her too. Her hair is in pink spongy rollers secured by a black net and white scarf. Full of kindness, her eyes twinkle with the mischief of a life well lived, and she has a knowing patience that only comes from having seen it all. Joy absolutely adores her to the moon and back.

“Everything okay?”

“I know this is last minute, but do you think you could watch Pepper for a few days?”

“Oh, of course, come on in, baby, come in. Let me make you some tea,” she says, ushering them inside. “Was that you I heard making all that fuss late last night?”

“Yeah.” Joy laughs awkwardly. “That was me.”

“Crying and hollering like the world was ending—I swear on my sweet John, God rest his soul, I almost came right on over to check on you, yes I did. Had me over here worried out my mind.”

Joy leans against the small bar as she watches Mrs. Norman flit around the kitchen, spry as ever. “Sorry about that. I’m feeling better now.”

Mrs. Norman gives her a knowing side-eye, waiting for the rest of the story.

“You’re as bad as Grace.” Joy exhales into a reluctant laugh. “It’s about Malcolm.”

“I knew it.” She shakes her head as she retrieves two mugs from the cabinet. “You know, I have a grandson about your age.”

“Not you too. Please. My mom has the whole let’s set Joy up with a bunch of strangers thing covered.”

“Now, now, hear me out. He’s smart with a good job, handsome. You should let me introduce you. Let me get you his number.”

“That’s okay,” Joy says quickly. “Thank you, but no. I’m really not interested in dating right now.”