Icons
Lili isn’t sure how she got here, only that she couldn’t stay where she was. Boots had placed a steady hand on her back, guiding her through the doors. Someone, maybe Wendy, had draped a sweater over her shoulders. Gareth had quietly taken her phone before any more damage could be done. And Shane had ordered her a drink she didn’t ask for. They surround her now, a quiet fortress—Boots, Wendy, Gareth, Shane.
“I don’t know how I’m supposed to wake up tomorrow and just… keep going,” Lili says, her voice faltering, like tomorrow already hurts.
Boots reaches across the table, squeezing her hand. “You don’t have to figure anything out tonight. Just breathe. Tomorrow will come, and when it does, you’ll deal with it—on your terms.”
“You do realize you’ll still be living under the same roof as them both, right?”
The table stills. All four heads turn toward Wendy. But she doesn’t stop. “I mean, I assume you’re kicking him out. But Daphne? How do you even begin to coexist with that?”
Wendy stops mid-breath, the silence suddenly deafening. She blinks, scanning Boots, Gareth, Shane across the table, each of them wearing the same quiet judgment.
“What? I’m just being honest.” Her eyes flick back to Lili. “Would you rather I lie?”
Gareth clears his throat, trying to redirect. “I can talk to management. See if there’s anything we can do. Maybe leverage the building’s reputation—”
“That’s a problem for another day,” Boots interrupts.
Lili slides her empty glass forward. Shane catches the signal and flags the server.
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“What I need,” she says, steel beneath the exhaustion, “is to survive tonight. Maybe burn the whole fucking place down tomorrow.”
She takes a breath, fighting a sob as her voice softens.
“But seriously, thank you. You all being here… I don’t think I could do this alone.”
As the others fall into conversation, Wendy catches Boots’s eye, and with an unspoken cue, they drift a few steps away, just out of earshot.
“So,” Wendy says, swirling what’s left in her glass, “you got our offer. What’s the verdict?”
Boots takes a slow sip, unfazed. “If we’re being real? You lowballed me. Normally, I’d be insulted. But I know the game you people play. I’m not exactly losing sleep over it.”
“Then counter,” Wendy presses. “Alan’s not the type to walk away.”
“Wendy, I’m not dying to go corporate. Kind of kills the fun when you’re not calling the shots.”
“But have you ever felt the power of an organization like NDA behind you? The capital, the connections, the reach? Your events would be bigger, louder, everywhere—”
“I got it the first time. We’re at Icons, not a shareholder meeting.”
Wendy leans in, and the light finds her eyes. “You think corporate kills the fun? Please. You’d still be calling the shots. Cutthroat? Sure. But the rush? The payoff? Worth every drop of blood you spill. And Alan? He liked you. I saw the way he looked at you.”
Boots’s brow lifts, unimpressed, already seeing through it. “If the boss is into me like that, then I’m definitely not interested in the job.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Wendy says, breezing past, “I’m saying you have something rare. It’s not just talent; it’s presence. Power. Don’t you ever wonder how far that could take you?”
“I don’t need to prove myself. Not to anyone.”
“It’s not about validation, Boots. It’s about limits. Testing them. Breaking them. Isn’t that why we’re all here? Not just to chase our dreams, but to surpass them. You really think I left New York—the greatest city in the world—for the weather?”
Boots exhales a dry laugh. “Why are you pushing this so hard?”
“It’s the agent in me,” Wendy says, the edge in her voice softening just enough to sound sincere. “That, and my insatiable desire to see women succeed.”
Boots lifts her glass, that sly grin saying everything she won’t, especially that Wendy’s not getting the upper hand. “You’ll know when I decide.”
“I’ll be waiting,” Wendy says. “Just don’t take too long.”
“Patience,” Boots replies. “Timing is everything.”