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224 pages, Paperback
First published February 3, 2015
She held the thought of Marcus in her mind, like a Saint Christopher medal, or a dream catcher, or maybe just a hidden flask of whiskey in her purse--something that made survival possible.
And it is at precisely this point that Anne leans forward slightly and says, "You know, Carson won't stay with you."
Sasha blinks. She had almost forgotten who Anne was.
Anne smiles grimly. "He's just c**t struck, is all."
The writer in Sasha rushes forward to examine this sentence. C**t struck. The term is so ugly, yet so arresting, that she almost admires it.
Two things occur to Sasha at this instant. One: Having morals is not something she's ever aspired to. Successful writer, loyal friend, pretty girl; those have been goals, but she can't say moral person has ever made the list, and that's kind of startling to realize. Two (and this possibly should have occurred to her quite a while ago): She doesn't have to sit here and listen to this. She can leave.
Here is what Maya's boss said to her after they made love the first time: "Did you know that peanuts are one of the ingredients in dynamite?" Maya stopped pulling her tights back on and stared at him. He was clearly one of those men whose brains generated arcane semi-educational tidbits of knowledge right after sex. Maya thought of them as come facts.
Sasha looks up and sees Monique down the block, and has that thrill you get from seeing someone familiar on the streets of New York, like looking through a box of old paperbacks at a garage sale and finding a copy of a novel you love.