DOROTHEA

THIRTY-NINE

"(SHE) LOOKS UP GRINNING LIKE A DEVIL!"

———

August 24th, 2018 - 11:07pm
Lenox Hill, New York City

...Twelve Hours Earlier - Chelsea, New York City...

"I'm never going to be able to eat peanut butter again."

"Great! More for me."

"In that case, I'm also never kissing you again."

"Worth it."

"I'm serious, Dorothea Jane. If I have to inhale it on your breath one more time, I'm most definitely going to gag."

Dorothea smiled to herself as she dipped her spoon into the jar of nut butter. "Sticking your tongue in my mouth isn't the only option, you know."

Taylor laughed stiffly, sipping her coffee. "Sorry, not taking the bait. Find another stupid fish in the pond."

"Tempting. But I think I'll just stick to the gutter where I found you—" Dorothea gasped at the sudden smack of searing pain radiating from her ass. "AH! Fuck, Taylor—"

"Sorry, just fishing in the gutter—"

"I don't think that's how you catch a fish."

"Oh? Would you prefer me using something other than my bare hands?—"

"Ladies."

Both Taylor's and Dorothea's attention shot to the sound of Tree, who suddenly appeared in the singer's penthouse kitchen. The manager stopped a few feet from the couple, letting the silence reach a level of awkward for her own entertainment yet simultaneously made the other two want to melt into the floor. She watched Dorothea draw a breath to fill the void and immediately cleared her throat. "Sorry to interrupt—"

"You're not," Taylor assured.

"Well..." Dorothea hummed.

"You're not."

"Okay..." Tree folded back a smile and turned to Dorothea. "Just coming by to say that hair and makeup will be here at three. But more importantly, how are you feeling? Any more cramps or other things I should be worried about?"

Dorothea chuckled, "I think my mom's got the worrying thing covered. No need for you to stress about it, too—"

"Um—hello?"

"Right." Dorothea glanced at the singer. "My mom and your client."

Tree chuckled, "Well my client should be focusing on tonight." She turned towards Taylor. "Your turn. How are you feeling? Anything I should be worried about?"

"Besides the threat of surprise interruptions from psychotic narcissists?" Taylor asked. "Don't think so."

"At least you can joke about it," Tree mused.

"Yeah, it's amazing what disappearing off the face of the earth does for your perspective," the blonde replied dryly.

Dorothea twisted the plastic straw in her iced chai cup. "And the people who truly deserve exile are always the last to go."

She could feel the other two now looking at her. Dorothea lifted her gaze from the counter to the singer's. There was a look of understanding that went deeper than the bottomless floor of her dark ocean hues. There weren't words to put to it. It was a feeling that Dorothea could only grasp because she had once —or twice— felt it too.