“You look smoking hot,” Zoe declares when she steps back to examine the makeup she’s been applying to Cassie’s face. “Really sexy.”

Cassie looks at herself in the vanity mirror in her bathroom. Zoe found a photo of Katy Perry in the music video for “Dark Horse” and has been using it as a guide for how to do her Cleopatra makeup. And Cassie has to admit that Zoe did a fantastic job. Her eyes are lined with black, with sparkly purple and gold on her eyelids. The dark purple lips complete the picture.

“You did a great job,” Cassie says. “And the dress fits you perfectly.”

Cassie steps back to look at the white dress Zoe lent her to complete the look. It does fit very well—that’s not the problem. The problem is the huge slit in the side of the dress that goes nearly up to her hip. This is most definitely a sexy Cleopatra costume. It wouldn’t have been what Cassie would wear if she could afford to buy her own costume, but nothing in her own closet fits the bill. If she doesn’t wear this dress, her only other option is sexy cat.

Zoe’s eyes light up. “This gives me a great idea for the bookstore.” “What’s that?”

“An erotica section!”

Cassie nearly starts choking. “An… erotica section?”

“Sure! Why not? People would love it.” She taps her long black fingernails against Cassie’s sink. “You could have mostly books but maybe also some artwork. I would be happy to paint the artwork.”

Cassie imagines the look on Bea and Marv’s faces if they discovered Bookland had an erotic literature section. Then again, maybe they’d be okay with it. You could never tell with Grandma Bea. It’s certainly not the worst thing that’s been done to keep Bookland afloat.

Cassie tugs at the slit on the side of the dress. “It disturbs me that when you look at this dress, the first thing you think of is erotica.”

“Don’t be such a square, Cass,” Zoe says as she draws a square figure in the air with her fingers. “Anyway, I better take off before your Hot Doctor gets here. And remember…”

“Don’t do anything you wouldn’t do.”

“No. I was going to say try to nip a bottle of wine from those rich snobs. Something red, okay?”

After Zoe leaves, Cassie examines her costume one last time in her full-length mirror. Okay, the slit in the side is a little bit high, but it does look great on her. She got a cheap gold crown at the dollar store, and Zoe’s gold belt completes the costume. And the makeup is absolutely perfect. With her straight dark hair, she really looks like Cleopatra.

The intercom buzzes to signify Joel has arrived. She buzzes him up, giving her hair one final pat. They agreed not to tell each other about their respective costumes, figuring they would surprise each other. He tried to get her to tell him, joking about how awful it would be if their costumes clashed, but she resisted the temptation… and now she’s glad.

He’s going to be blown away.

The doorbell rings and Cassie rushes to answer it. She rests one hand on her hip in what she hopes is a sexy Cleopatra pose as she throws open the door.

Joel is dressed as Indiana Jones. She hadn’t noticed a resemblance between him and Harrison Ford before, but between the brown hat, the lasso, the brown leather jacket, and the day’s growth of a beard, he really looks like Indy. It’s super sexy. She’s glad he kept his costume a secret. She’s going to have trouble keeping her hands off him tonight. She only hopes he likes her costume as much as his.

Joel’s eyes go wide at the sight of what she’s wearing. At first she thinks he’s thrilled, but there’s no smile on his face. He stumbles backwards a step, then utters a single syllable: “Oh.”

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. All the color has left his face.

“Joel, what’s wrong?”

“You…” He rubs at his forehead. “I… I didn’t realize…”

Cassie’s heart speeds up. “What’s going on? You don’t like my costume?” She frowns. “Is it… inappropriate?”

“No.” He stares down at his brown boots. “That’s not it.”

She frowns. “So what’s wrong? I can’t change at this point. It’s too late.”

Not to mention all the hours Zoe spent getting her makeup perfect. She’s going as Cleopatra, period. Unless Joel has a damn good reason to tell her otherwise.

He lets out a long sigh, his eyes still pinned to the ground. “Nothing.

Never mind.”

It’s obvious whatever is bothering him is far from nothing. She’s worried he’s lying and he thinks maybe the dress is too slutty. But it is

what it is at this point.

By the time their Uber reaches the party, Cassie has worked herself up into a panic over her dress. She can’t believe she took fashion advice from a woman who apparently paints erotic artwork. This dress is a little too smoking hot. She’s not going to a college party. She’s going to be with a bunch of professionals a decade older than she is. Screw Cleopatra—she should have gone as a librarian. A non-sexy librarian.

Oh well, too late now.

It doesn’t help that Joel will barely look at her during the entire ride. In the elevator going up to Lydia and Pete’s apartment, she tries to hold his hand and he jerks away from her. She’s tempted to hike over to a clothing store and get something new.

But Joel would think she’s out of her mind if she did that. The dress isn’t that bad. And Lydia will like that Cassie took her costume advice. Maybe Lydia and Cassie will be new BFFs.

The smile on Lydia’s face when she throws open the door for the two of them almost convinces Cassie that the worry was all in her head. Unlike at the zoo, Lydia seems thrilled to see them.

“Joel!” Lydia grins at him. Then she flashes an even wider smile for Cassie. “Cassie! So glad you could make it.”

Lydia looks stunning in an ice-blue Elsa costume that compliments her pale skin tone and blond hair. It’s like she was made for that costume. Lydia—the ice queen. Lydia’s eyes flicker over Cassie’s dress, and she arches an eyebrow.

“Please come in,” Lydia says.

Joel practically shoves the bottle of wine he brought into her hands, then makes a beeline for the table with the alcoholic drinks. He pours himself a shot of something before Cassie has even crossed the threshold into the apartment, then downs it in one gulp. And then he pours himself a second.

What the hell?

Lydia tugs Cassie into the apartment. “Let me give you the grand tour,” she says.

Joel’s apartment is nice, but Lydia’s apartment is nothing short of spectacular. It’s big and airy with a balcony that gives a breathtaking view of the city skyline. Every piece of furniture is a beautiful antique, and Cassie wonders how Violet manages. But there are signs of the little girl all over the apartment, from the photos of her at every age displayed on nearly every surface to the entire bookshelf carefully organized with children’s books. And of course, there’s the giant dollhouse in the corner

of the room that is close to the dimensions of Cassie’s bathroom. When she was a little girl, Cassie would have given her right arm to have that dollhouse—or that bookcase.

“This is a great apartment,” Cassie murmurs.

“Isn’t it though?” Lydia beams. “It was a steal. Only four million.”

Only four million? Jesus Christ.

Pete wanders over to them, swaying drunkenly on his feet. He’s dressed as somebody from Star Wars—maybe Obi Won Kenobi. When he catches sight of Cassie, his eyes widen much the same as Joel’s did. “Whoa,” he says. Then he laughs nervously.

Cassie isn’t sure what’s so damn funny, but she doesn’t want to be as rude as he’s being. “Hi, Pete,” she says.

She glances over at the table with the alcohol and Joel is still there.

Still drinking. What is going on with him tonight?

“You look… nice, Cassie.” Pete’s slurring his words very slightly. He’s drunk. But not as drunk as Joel will be shortly. “Interesting costume.”

“Uh, thanks,” Cassie says.

Lydia shoots Pete a look. “Didn’t I tell you, Peter: only three drinks!

No more.”

“Sorry, Mommy,” Pete slurs.

Lydia flashes Pete a dirty look, but doesn’t say anything more, which is a wise move on her part. In Cassie’s experience, men who are that drunk are not great people to engage in serious discussions. It’s clear Pete has already surpassed the three drink limit.

Now that they’re done with the grand tour, Lydia leads Cassie over to the drinks table. Joel has finally wandered off, which is a relief. She isn’t sure how much he’s had to drink, but she’s sure it’s a lot. She doesn’t think she can carry him home.

Con’s wife Anna is standing by the drinks, eying the alcoholic beverages somewhat longingly. She looks adorable in a dress that is essentially a snowman, with the face painted on her upper chest and the bulge of her pregnant belly making up the snowman’s belly. Anna starts to smile, but it vanishes instantly when she gets a good look at Cassie.

“Oh,” Anna says, “hi… um, Cassie, right?”

Cassie frowns at her reaction. “That’s right. Cute costume.”

“Oh,” she says again. She puts a hand protectively over her abdomen. “Thanks.”

Cassie waits a beat for a compliment from Anna but it never comes. “How are you feeling?”

“Good…” Anna flips her hair over her shoulder. “But… um, would you excuse me?”

And then Anna gets out of there like Cassie’s got the plague.

Well, that was weird.

Cassie studies the various bottles of alcoholic beverages. She needs a drink like five minutes ago. Lydia picks up a bottle of champagne, pours it into a glass, and shoves it into Cassie’s waiting hand. “That’s a Billecart-Salmon champagne.”

“Oh?”

“It goes for three-hundred dollars a bottle,” Lydia says.

Three-hundred? That means each sip is five bucks.

“It’s a dry wine with a high finish and long intensity,” Lydia explains.

She may as well be speaking in another language. Cassie takes a sip. “Oh.”

“Can you taste the hint of raspberry and almond?” Lydia asks.

Cassie takes another sip. It takes like every other champagne she’s ever tried. “Yes?”

Lydia laughs. “No, you can’t.”

Lydia’s laughter cuts into her like a knife. But Lydia’s been so nice to her until now… is it really such a big deal she’s making fun of her for not thinking this fancy three-hundred-dollar bottle of champagne tastes exactly like the ten-dollar bottle she got for New Year’s last year? Yes, it’s insulting. But it’s not the most pressing problem of the night.

The most pressing problem is how much Joel’s had to drink and where the hell he went off to.