Colour. Part 17

He didn’t look like he believed me but he threw some bills on the table and stood. “You’re exactly right. It’s none of your business.”

I stood, too, and stared back at him. “So what time are you picking me up tonight?”

Here I was, playing the part. I should have been proud but there was nothing left but hollow disappointment.

A small smile began to play on his lips. “Seven.” He walked away but paused before the door. “And Johanna? This conversation isn’t over.”

Morgan fussed with her hair and then glanced back at me. I was in the bathtub shuffling through an old magazine, antsy and frustrated.

“Did you flip out on Tate?”

I sighed. “There’s nothing to flip out over. I got too caught up in the glitz and forgot all about reality.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” she said for the millionth time that day, watching me from the mirror. She applied some mascara and cursed when it smeared across her eyelid.

“You were probably right not to at fir