Girl Trouble by Miranda Baker

bit, until there was only the merest suggestion of a curve in the bottom of the cup. When the bialy had been reduced to cornmeal and crumbs, she started in on the hazelnut croissant, hoping if she stuffed herself, she wouldn’t feel so empty, so full of…nothing.
    She’d known it was a mistake the minute she’d arrived at Kat’s door, but it had been too late to stop. The match had been lit, and it burned. Now everything was ruined, demolished by Kat’s reckless ultimatum, and all they had left were ashes. The sweet treat turned bitter in her mouth. How could Kat be so selfish?
    She stood and gathered her dishes, leaving them in a bus tub and dumping her trash in the can. She stepped out the door and began walking. The sun was higher in the sky, but the air felt cool and damp, thick with the scent of salt and living things. She paused to admire some white flowers growing on a chain-link fence. A second too late, she identified the blossoms and swayed, clutching the fence for balance, sucker-punched by the scent of jasmine. There was no escaping Kat.
    A couple of guys carrying surfboards passed her on the sidewalk, and she trailed after them, discovering a boardwalk lined with more shops, street vendors, henna tattoo artists, skaters and people of all kinds. Music blared, changing every ten feet, as she moved along the boardwalk. The chaos matched the tumult in her heart, and she kept pace with the crowd, uncertain of her purpose. If she had wanted to leave Kat, she’d be at the airport by now. Why wasn’t she?
    After walking the length of the boardwalk and all the way back, she was no closer to an answer. She ducked out of the crowd and trudged across the sand, although she doubted the ocean would have any answers for her, either. She felt lost, adrift, and she’d left her anchor flattened against the wall. The memory of Kat’s devastated expression made her cringe, suddenly desperate for confirmation that she’d done the right thing.
    There was one person she knew who always told the truth. Bonita dialed before she could lose her nerve.
    Crystal answered immediately. “Come Again is fine. No worries here, boss.”
    “I had no doubt.” Bonita forced a laugh. “I wish I was calling about business.”
    “If it isn’t business, I assume it’s pleasure. How goes the Hollywood hookup? I saw a picture of you and a certain goddess of the silver screen in the entertainment section of the paper this morning. It didn’t take an empath to feel the vibe you two were putting out. Way to go, but you’re going to have your hands full with that one.”
    Bonita imagined Crystal winding her long, black hair up into a loose knot on top of her head, letting it fall, finger-combing the dense, black waves and looking smug.
    “You have no idea.” Relief poured through her. Of course Crystal would understand. “Did Destiny tell you she and Johnny gave Kat topping lessons?”
    “Lucky bitch.” Crystal chuckled. “No, but Destiny’s been impossible ever since you left. She’s probably afraid you’re going to fire her.”
    “She deserves it,” Bonita said darkly.
    “Are you sure she doesn’t deserve a raise?” Crystal’s voice rippled with amusement.
    Bonita ignored the question. “Can I ask you something?”
    “Fire away.”
    “Do you think I’m an emotional masochist?”
    Sudden noise arose in the background. “I have customers. Hang on a sec.”
    Bonita identified laughter, the crinkle of paper and the distinctive tinkle of the bell on the front door of Come Again. While she waited, she slipped off her sandals and made her way through the families on the beach until she reached the ocean. After dipping a toe in the cold water, she meandered along the shore, avoiding seaweed, sharp bits of glass and pointy shells.
    After a few minutes, Crystal came back on the line. “I wouldn’t say you’re an emotional masochist. More like your average, everyday control freak.”
    “What? I am not.”
    “See? You even