Peter deserves to suffer for this stunt, no question. Yet confronting him about it might provoke questions I’m not prepared to answer. If everyone canceled, why did we attend the party? And what did we see or do once we got there? I’ve never been a fan of sharing my private business with colleagues, but this experience between Solange and me is superpersonal, and I don’t intend on sharing it with anyone, let alone my dirtbag coworker who’s obviously dead set on getting me fired. “I’m not sure. Still working out the possibilities in my head.”

“Let’s think about this for a minute.” She narrows her eyes and twists her lips back and forth. It’s her pensive expression. The one that tells me I’m about to get the benefit of her singular wisdom. I love that she wants us to work this out together.

Quickening her pace, she sticks an index finger in the air. “Scenario one: Peter didn’t know it was a sex party. I bet lots of people hated him in law school. He’s the guy everyone resented because he had a mean competitive streak and monopolized every class discussion. We had someone like that in grad school. So maybe this was all a prank, and he would have been just as surprised as you were. He’ll assume you decided not to go and that’s that.”

“I wish it were that easy to explain, but knowing Peter, I doubt it is.”

“Okay, fine, so let’s consider the second scenario,” she says, holding up two fingers. “Peter knew it was a sex party, and he was hoping Kimberly and Nia would be offended by the night’s festivities and blame you for taking them. Once he discovers they canceled, what then?”

“The stunt becomes pointless.”

“Exactly,” she says, painting double check marks in the air. “Which means he won’t say anything unless you do. If you think about it, not saying anything and keeping him guessing will secretly infuriate him. He’ll spend weeks wondering if you’re going to retaliate in some way.”

I give her a devious smile. “That’ll torture him.”

She rubs her hands together. “It’s deliciously vindictive. Beneath you, really. And yet it has the potential to be extraordinarily satisfying.” Then she reaches into her purse and pulls out a set of keys with a fob. “This is me.”

Well, one thing’s clear: Solange isn’t inclined to discuss the party. And I suspect her willingness to brainstorm how to tackle the Peter issue was meant to prevent us from even acknowledging what happened back there. Can’t say that I disagree with her approach; maybe that’s the best way to handle this anyway. Pretending does seem to be our fallback position.