Seven Days in June(28)

“Nah, people are strange enough in real life. I don’t need to view their psychosis through a zany filter,” he said, scowling. “But yeah, in some masochistic moments, I’ve looked you up. You and Audre are like a mother-daughter Thelma and Louise, with your museums and road trips and rallies. Travis Scott at Radio City.”

Eva preened, deservedly smug. “Audre’s a great kid. She got the best of me and her dad.”

“What’s he like?” Shane knew he was going too far.

“Travis Scott?”

“Audre’s dad.”

Eva sat back in the booth, hard. She grimaced and massaged a temple with her knuckles. “He’s stable.”

Shane went further. “Where is he?”

“You tell me. Where do men go when they’re done?” Eva’s eyes blazed. “He’s none of your business. You don’t know me anymore.”

“I know too much,” he said, his words weighted with old pain. The kind that makes a home on the fringes of your thoughts forever.

“You don’t,” she sighed. “I’m not who I was. And when I look back, I’m horrified.”

“You were just trying to survive,” said Shane. “When you’re drowning, you’ll do anything to get air.”

Eva studied her black mani, her expression maddeningly blank. And then Shane’s brain ordered him to utter the dumbest sentence ever.

“I’ve been meaning to call you.”

Hearing himself say this, Shane knew he deserved Eva’s incredulous, outraged brow raise. She looked equally likely to flip the table or die laughing.

“Riveting,” she said. “I’ve been meaning to try lash extensions.”

Shane tried again. “I couldn’t call you, because I was too fucked to make rational decisions. Things were bad for me for years.”

“Please,” she scoffed, “you’re one of the most celebrated writers of our generation.”

“And one of the drunkest,” he said. “Look, fame doesn’t save you. It just means that fans try to hack your Pornhub account to get your credit card info, track your whereabouts, and show up at your New Zealand Airbnb in revealing clubwear.”

“Revealing clubwear? I’m struggling to understand your demo.”

“You got grown men out here in witch hats. The nerve of you.”

“And why don’t you just stream Pornhub, like a civilized person?”

Shane looked offended. “Viruses.”

“Ah.”

“Anyway,” he said, cracking his knuckles, “part of AA is making amends. I wanted to be permanently clean before I ever contacted you again. Now I’m ready.”

“Oh, so you contact me when you’re ready? You’re arrogant enough to think I want to talk to you?”

Shane looked her squarely in the eye. “Yeah. I am.”

“Fuck you.” Eva grabbed her bag and stood up.

“Don’t go,” he blurted out, halting her with his pleading eyes. “Please. I know what I did was unforgivable. I broke our promise. And now I can explain why.”

“No you don’t. I’m good!” She wasn’t good. She was trembling and it killed him, knowing her anguish was his fault.

It always was, he thought.

“We have unfinished business,” he said. “You know we do. We’ve made careers off it.”

Eva sat back down. The tension rippled between them, charging the air and stretching for seconds that felt like hours. Shane was praying she’d speak—but she just sat there, fuming and staring down at the table. Slowly, she began ripping her napkin into pieces, her mouth set in a tight, narrow line.

When she finally looked at him, her glare was a conflagration.

“We didn’t make careers. I made a career,” she whisper-yelled. “You drunk-wrote four classics? I have to write a shitty book a year to survive. You can’t be bothered to tour? I have to constantly promote. You’re philosophically opposed to social media? I have to post all day to stay relevant. You’re lucky I don’t take a selfie with you for likes!”

“In this lighting?”

In AA, Shane would diffuse tension with a joke. Luckily for him, Eva was too lost in her rant to hear it.

“And I’ve never even been to New Zealand! I spend all my time churning out Cursed! I owe Cece another one, and I don’t have a single idea, and now I’m gonna go broke, and even worse? I keep back-burnering my dream book!”

“What’s your dream book?”

“Doesn’t matter,” she snapped. “The point is, I work my ass off. While you, with minimal effort, have become a legend.”

“I’m only a legend ’cause I’m mysterious.”

“You’re a legend ’cause you write about me.” She grabbed her milkshake back, spilling a bit on her hand. Distractedly, she sucked it off.

Shane’s brain left their conversation for a few agonizing moments.

“You capitalized off of my trauma,” she raged. “A time when I was in crisis. Not lovable. Not Eight.”

Shane stared at her, eviscerated. Not lovable. Eva had no idea the effect she’d had on him. How he saw her. How could she not know?

“Eight’s lovable because you were.” His voice was firm, definite. “You can’t imagine what you were like then.”