Cary lifted the pen next to her and gave it a loud click, hoping to rattle something in her mind into working. Small talk will not kill her, but she wouldn’t put money on any fight she was in with it. Maybe compliment her outfit? No, Cary had a feeling Odila could see right through a white lie--also, she was dressed like a middle-schooler. Ask what she does for fun? No, she really, truly didn’t want to know.

“So,” Cary said in a teetering blurt. “How’s Dusty doing?”

Odila’s smirk didn’t break as one of her eyebrows dramatically raised. Cary could almost see the ‘what the hell is it to you?’ dance across her gaze before she answered, “As well as you can be. Why?”

“Just wondering,” said Cary. “You two are pretty close, right?”

“Dusty is the sunshine of my life,” said Odila. It was said devoid of her usual dramatic flair, and slapped the blush into Cary’s cheeks all the harder for it. “My life would be a dark place without her.”

“Uh,” said Cary, blinking furiously and suddenly feeling like the poor man who was previously in her spot. “So, yes then?”

“Well Christ Cary, I only bared my soul,” said Odila with a snort. “Are you sure you do peopley stuff for a living? I think you missed your calling as a sheet of driveway pavement.”

“Right. I walked right into that one,” said Cary with a sigh. “So you guys have known each other awhile now?”

“Eh, couple years,” said Odila, looking up to a corner of her mind. “Three? Four?”

“That short?” said Cary. “You gave the whole ‘childhood friends’ vibe.”

“Oh my GOODNESS!” said Odila, clapping both her hands to her cheeks. “Cary! Are you trying to say we like each other? As in like, likeity like-like?” Her hands dropped to her sides as she gave a snide laugh. “No seriously, Cary, just ask us outright if we’re lesbians instead of pulling an impression of my dear abuela.”

“Are you?” Cary asked dryly.

“Oh NO! Am I?!” said Odila, opening her eyes even wider than before, another solid clap on her cheek. “But! But we’re both girls! What does that mean?”

Cary felt the weight of stones in her brow, and it took all her self perseverance to stop her fingers from giving Odila the rise of pinching it back. Still, she couldn’t help but notice that Odila got much more animate when talking about Dusty. It was risky, she reasoned with herself, but maybe it’s worth the push?

“You know, I actually heard one of your colab songs not too long ago,” Cary said, tilting her head a little closer to Odila. “‘Long Lost Last Chance’. It really suits the two of you.”

“Oh really?” Odila said. “Well go on then, don’t hesitate to put your foot in your mouth!”

“Well, the music was...I want to say brave,” said Cary. “Vibrant and lively, with a hint of melancholy. Very much like Dusty. But the lyrics ring a specific kind of hope.”

“Really!” said Odila. “Do tell!”

“It’s tired,” Cary said, “but tempered by the sheer need to survive. No, it was crying out in triumph for surviving,” Cary almost smiled as she said it. “It couldn’t be written by anyone but you.”

“Wrong!” Odila sang brightl, snapping her fingers across her face. “Gorgeously amateurish mistake, my dear Care-Bear!”

“Iona told me it was a collaborative effort,” said Cary. “You can’t pull a fast one on me.”

“Well, yeah! But I sure as hell didn’t write anything that sweet,” Odila cackled. “Actually, the whole song was a huge joke. Literally.”

“That’s a lie!” Cary snapped. It’s sharpness, like a rush to defense, surprised her. Judging by brief cringe of stung anger, Odila was surprised as well.

“Are you serious?” Odila said, once again without her usual hammy overplay. She lifted an index finger, pad up, with casual accusation. “Fine. Then here’s something for you--I wrote that song as a sarcastic joke. Dusty teased me for being a pessimist. So,” she suddenly drew herself up with a dark smile, “being the charmer I was, I wrote that upbeat little tune just to poke back at her. I made it as dippy and stupid as I could. A big, beautiful sham.”

“So does that mean Dusty wrote the lyrics?” asked Cary. She was pretty sure it was obvious, but Odila wobbled, as if she didn’t expect the counter.

“Yeah. That’s right,” said Odila with a nod. “And that’s why you’re an idiot. All that beauty and soulfulness you wax poetics about? It’s Dusty’s,” said Odila. She breathed roughly. “And now Cary? You get to join the shit pile of people who never give her the credit she deserves.”

“I…” Cary started. “I’m guessing she gets that a lot.”

“Wow!” said Odila. She tried to keep her tone facetious, but it already rang with an angry depth. Her palms thundered on the table top. Her smile was strung together by wide, angry eyes. “You don’t say!”

“Iona told me there’s an unspoken rule that you always sing it if it comes up in concert,” said Cary. She could feel that rush again, some instinctive sight of an opening. “And I can see why now.”

“That’s right!!” said Odila. “Because she’s Sexy Goddamn Dream! The most brilliant artist I ever met, turned into a pair of walking tits for fifteen-year-olds to masturbate to!”

“No, it’s not to hide her away,” said Cary, shaking her head. “It’s because you sing it the best. Because you love her that much.”

Odila looked like she was about to jump over the table and slap her. Her grin turned to a grimace. The sharp of her smile showed through lips thinned tight over her jaw. There was a parted space, the very beginning of a shouted retort. But she was silent.

“Of course you aren’t the type to write a song that straightforwardly sincere,” said Cary, with a laugh of sudden realization. “But you’d sing it with all your heart. Because you’re saying sorry, aren’t you? For being another person who didn’t listen to her?”

“Okay, you think you got this figured out? Huh?!” Odila spat back. “I don’t need you speculating about my life on top of--”

“You love her view of the world a lot more than you do your own,” Cary said, “don’t you?”

“Hey! Hey! I gotta question!” said Odila. “What the hell does this have to do with me getting a job?”

“Because if I’m reading this right,” Cary said, “You’re approaching this job interview and her the same way. Caring to the point of killing yourself, but protecting yourself by keeping your distance and saying ‘I’m not good enough’, right?”

“You don’t know nothing!” said Odila, shoving the large table enough to make it groan inches closer into Cary.

“I’m going to give you some advice, since I don’t think you’ve had a lot of friends or jobs,” said Cary strenly. “Having a job won’t keep you safe from harm. And being someone’s friend won’t keep them safe from harm.” She smiled sadly. “I bet you’re the type that thinks if you’re only friends, you could never--”

“Okay! I got it! Point taken!” Odila screamed. “You win, alright? I’m a shitty human being incapable of human relationships! You’ve got your profile!” She threw two fists into the table, with enough force to almost lift her from her seat.. “Now why doncha SHUT UP?”

“Cary? I’m sorry, I know this a bad time,” said Iona into the earpiece Cary forgot she had. “But you gotta wrap this up. There’s only five minutes left for the interview.”

Oh, Cary thought. Great.