“Anyway”—she brings her focus back to me—“I know your office has strict rules about dating clients, but, girl, get a clue. Every secretary on earth is working to meet a rich businessman. No one is actually working to work.”

“I’m not just a secretary. I’m a legal secretary,” I huff, feeling defensive. “And, while I’m not crazy about my job, it isn’t just to meet some—”

“Whatever. Same difference,” she interrupts, circling her hips to the music.

I narrow my eyes, wanting to shake her back to reality and then stab her with my red Louboutin stiletto. Sanam isn’t cruel; she’s just clueless.

Or maybe it’s me who’s dense. No. It’s her.

The girls around me flit in excitement as some rap song I’ve never heard comes on. I can feel my despair seeping through my thighs, heavier than I wish they were.

Should I just take some Molly? Maybe, if I did, I could actually be happy again.

I bite my lip, running through my usage checklist for the millionth time. I have no preexisting health conditions. I am not taking any medication that interacts with MDMA. I’m aware of the dosage guidelines, and I know that the positive effects of this drug are maximized between eighty-one to one hundred ten milligrams. I will be sure to drink two cups of water. My costume is thin, which should keep me cool to avoid heatstroke. Molly could be the pause my body yearns for, but my mind won’t allow.

Sanam brings her skinny, hairless arms high above her as the music thumps.

“I never really liked this rap music.” She shakes her tiny ass as sweat beads at her unlined forehead. “But I love the vibrations. Can you feel it? We’re all one. Humanity is meant to become a single body, full of unity!”

I cock my head in confusion at her spiritual words, so unlike her.

“And I’m getting married. And that house he just bought me? God! Can you believe it?” she squeals.

In front of us, Allie climbs up onto the rectangular table overflowing with liquor and ice. Lowering her own diamond-encrusted hand, she brings Sanam to stand up with her. A few bottles of vodka topple to the ground, the glass shattering near my feet and soaking the floor. The girls only laugh at the mess they made. Reza, of course, is footing the entire bill for the weekend. Meanwhile, they’re dancing like they’re starring in a porn, making come fuck me eyes at any man with a pulse. Okay, maybe not that bad. But still.

Sanam screams to me, “Come up, Lauren!” She’s enjoying the attention she’s receiving from partygoers, her moves exaggerated and overly sexy.

I click my tongue, turning away. No way in hell am I dancing on a table. Jesus, but I need an escape right now. Still, I wish I weren’t the way I was. I want to just take the drugs and be happy like everyone else. I want something to shut me up for once, so I can actually enjoy life instead of questioning and thinking of all the possible outcomes. I want to dance without a care, too. But … I can’t.