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features. I loved my hair, but hers just made it look so easy.
    “Did you just get back?” she asked.
    I smiled and dropped my bags. “I guess we're both just asking stupid questions now.”
    I set my keys in the bowl on the kitchen table, and plopped down next to Mira. Snowflake came winding around my legs, purring: Baby, you know she means nothing. You're my number one, girl.
    I gathered him onto my lap, shut my eyes and stroked his little grey head. The rumble of his chest even soothed my legs. Ah, this guy demanded a lot, but he was so much easier to love.
    “Good trip?” Mira asked, rubbing my near shoulder.
    “Very good trip.”
    “Did you uncover some secret supervillain club of tax evaders or something?”
    “I'm in the corporate finance division, not taxes.”
    “As an artist, I am not obligated to understand any of those words.”
    “You never plan on selling anything you make?”
    “I plan on my parents setting me up with some Indian millionaire.”
    I snorted. “As your friend, I am not obligated to believe any of those words.”
    Mira had been the most fiercely independent girl I ever met. Who else could have gotten me to change the entire course of my life? She’d been my Peter Pan, teaching me to fly, fly, fly.
    But living with her for a year and a half had taught me just how low she flew. She relied on parents an awful lot for someone who rebelled against everything they said. They had a strange push-pull relationship – well, next to my push-push one anyway.
    A thin smile spread over her lips. “If the guy was super rich, I would give him a second look. Every artist needs a patron.”
    “I don't know much about art, but I don't think the guy who sponsored Michelangelo made him spread his legs. Or bear him heirs.”
    “Heirs? Gods, Kiara, my parents are Hindu, not medieval royalty.”
    I rattled her long barely clothed leg. “Whatever, I'm hungry. Let's go eat.”
    “Ugh, no. Let's just cook here.”
    “Fine.” Inspiration struck me. “Actually yeah, it'll be my treat. A little thanks for taking care of Snowflake.”
    Snowflake turned his tawny face up at his name.
    “Sure-” Mira started, but then her brow crossed She shook her head. “Wait, wait, wait. Uh-uh. Those drinks are still in your future missy.”
    I sighed. “Fine, just not tonight.”
    I wasn't good with a stove, and not from lack of trying. My mother had been horrified by that – as if that was the prime injustice in our household. But you didn't need much to boil pasta and toss it up with meat sauce and veggies. I felt victorious against her for the second time that day as I served Mira.
    Mira and I ate quietly watching her reality show. I preferred comedies, but it at least kept her from asking questions. I didn't want to share last night until I was sure what it meant. Once it was out there, it'd be out there. She would not let it rest.
    I was washing up, when my phone rattled with a number. I sighed and prepared to flick it off, but it wasn’t my mom. I didn't recognize it. Then, with a flash I understood. I hurried off into the bedroom and shut the door.
    “Evening, Darlin,” I heard, the moment I picked up.
    “Hi, who is this?” I asked.
    “You're hilarious, you know that?”
    “You sound familiar, but it's way too soon for this to be that call.”
    “You can't expect me to wait with a night like that on my mind. What is this, middle school?”
    “I wouldn't know. I didn't go out with guys till late in college.”
    “That makes sense.”
    I clenched the phone tighter. “What exactly does that mean?”
    “Your pussy's still got that new car smell to it.”
    I nearly turned away from the phone. “Jesus, Deacon.”
    “Seems we cleared up that spell of amnesia.”
    “New car smell? Do girls actually like that line?”
    “Wouldn't know. I only date women.”
    The word 'date' exploded in my head. “Oh.”
    “Oh? You distracted over there? Still at work?”
    “No, no.” I cleared my head. “What do