Chapter 13: Live

I opened my mouth to answer him.

Nothing came.

June tenth was a Wednesday.

That was all I knew for sure.

"At work, probably," I said. "Wednesdays were stability tests."

"Probably isn't going to cut it," Sam said.

"I know."

"Check your calendar."

"My calendar was on my Thayer account. They shut it off the day they fired me."

He sat down slowly across from me.

"Then we find another way."

I looked at the signature again.

The loop on the H. The O that didn't close.

I'd been sick every morning that whole month.

Half of June was a gray blur of crackers and ginger tea.

"I'll figure it out," I said.

"Hannah."

"I'll figure it out."

On Thursday afternoon the bride called my prepaid phone.

"Have you seen her page?" she said.

I hadn't. I'd stopped looking.

"She's reopening tonight. Six o'clock. A livestream from the studio. She's calling it a healing day."

"A what?"

"Free blowouts for anybody who stood by her through the hate." The bride's voice shook. "She painted over the door."

I didn't say anything for a second.

"I'm going," she said. "I'm not asking you to come. I just wanted somebody to know where I was."

"I'm coming."

Sam said no four different ways.

Then he got his car keys.

Alyssa Monroe Studio was on the ground floor of a glass building in downtown Bellevue.

The door was white now.

You could still see a faint pink shadow under the fresh paint if you knew where to look.

Inside it was all cream walls and gold mirrors and orchids in tall glass vases.

Maybe thirty people stood around holding champagne.

A big screen on the wall showed the livestream as it went out, with the comments scrolling up the side.

Eleven thousand people were watching.

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